tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53639198180946255752024-03-05T08:20:33.977+01:00Girl in GeilenkirchenUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-66445734538728510542014-05-22T13:16:00.000+02:002014-05-22T13:16:05.769+02:00Our Biggest Adventure in Europe: July 2014!It's a great time to be living in Maastricht. Warm temperatures are finally here on a semi-regular basis, flowers are in bloom, sidewalk cafes are crowded, and there's almost always something happening in the Vrijthof! For the past couple of weeks, it was a carnival. I can't say I was sad to see all of the garish attractions being torn down on Monday. It's nice to live so close to all of the action but I was getting tired of hearing the theme from <i>Indiana Jones</i> on loop and all of the screaming from the upside-down rides.<br />
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It's only a couple of months until Andre Rieu will once again regale us with his orchestra and choir. This year marks 10 years of his concerts in the Vrijthof! He'll be here four weekends in July and it's very possible that during the last weekend, in a small apartment overlooking the square, we will be participating in our own exciting performance. To the soundtrack of classical music, I might start having contractions. And then we'll get a move-on to the hospital so I can deliver our baby! If for some reason we don't make it there in time, I guess we'll have to name him Andre.<br />
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Since this is my first baby, I don't really know the differences between having one here versus having one back in the states. I've been seeing a German doctor up until this point. So far, care has been extremely thorough. I have ultrasounds every time I visit the doctor. Initially, we didn't want to know the gender of the baby but it was nearly impossible not to find out because we've been able to see him so often. He's definitely a boy!<br />
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When I first found out I was pregnant, people back home warned me that strangers would approach me all of the time to touch my belly. Maybe that's true in America, but here no one has groped me. As the belly grows, sometimes people openly gawk. That makes me a little uncomfortable. Oddly, it's especially the case for elderly men and women. Their stares often seem reproachful, as in: "Shame, shame. Do you know how you got yourself into this position?" It's really weird. I feel like I'm a teen mom on "16 and Pregnant" sometimes. I'm probably just being paranoid.<br />
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I swim at a pool in The Netherlands and have a rapport with one of the lifeguards because I go there so often. His wife just had their first baby a few weeks ago so of course he's been offering me lots of advice and colorful commentary throughout the pregnancy. Some of my favorite conversations have gone like this:<br />
"Oh, so you're pregnant? How far along are you? Oh, really? Only four months? Well this (as he produces a camera phone photo of his wife) is what you will look like when you are six months pregnant!!!!!!! You will be big!"<br />
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"Try not to swim like that. It uses too much energy. Maybe you can try on your back only, moving your legs. Like a penguin."<br />
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My favorite was this:<br />
"Do you have any stretch markings?"<br />
"Ummm... no, not yet....."<br />
"Oh. Well, my wife has lots of stretch markings. I told her, 'At least a zebra has more stripes than you for now!' She did not think that was funny."<br />
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All in all, I'd say things have gone well. I'm happy to finally be in the final trimester. It's been very easy to stay active and fit throughout the pregnancy because I walk everywhere here and there's no Chick-fil-A. I prefer swimming and yoga but sometimes I exercise with pregnancy workout DVDs. They're pretty corny. Lots of, "Now, pull that belly in, little mama!" and, "Let's do some pelvic tilts now, mom! Don't forget your kegels!" I hope the neighbors can't hear these uber-cheerful trainers screaming at me about my weakened pelvic wall and uterus.<br />
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I feel him kicking around all of the time now and I wonder what he'll look like and sound like. We probably won't be here long enough for him to learn Dutch but I'm really happy that he'll be born in The Netherlands.<br />
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We've traveled to so many different places and have been lucky enough to experience many different kinds of cultures, drink lots of great wines and beers, and meet interesting people from all over Europe. It feels like every day here has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But I have to say, being able to share all of this with another person who will be half of me and half of my husband tops it all.<br />
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So the countdown begins to summer in Maastricht, Andre Rieu, and our baby boy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-45643347884998096742014-04-21T20:34:00.001+02:002014-04-21T20:34:04.013+02:00An Afternoon in Valletta, MaltaWe woke up early in Gharb for our final Maltese adventure in Valletta. We left at 9:30, reversing our original journey. We took a bus from Gharb to Victoria, then from Victoria to Mgarr, then a ferry from Mgarr to Cirkewwa. For some reason I thought Valletta was just another short bus or taxi ride from from Cirkewwa but I was wrong. We were on the bus for almost an hour after our already hours-long trek from Gharb. It wasn't too bad though. The streets were a little less bumpy and we were able to see a lot of nice scenery as we drove through the island on the way to Valletta.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Grand Harbor from<br />Hotel Phoenicia's Gardens</i></td></tr>
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At almost 2pm we finally reached our destination, the Hotel Phoenicia. It's conveniently located right next to the bus station so at least we didn't have a difficult time finding it once we were there. Hotel Phoenicia was built in 1939, the first luxury hotel in Malta. It's situated just outside the city's walls and sprawled over 7.5 acres of beautiful, fragrant gardens. The hotel hearkens back to the days of old-world charm. It really feels like you're stepping back in time when you enter the grand foyer and pass through to the opulent, chandeliered lounge area. The hotel is currently undergoing renovations to add some 21st-century amenities but you can still have a good look at its original grandeur. Thick-carpeted banquet rooms with heavy, luxurious drapes over the windows still sit untouched, waiting to be introduced to the future.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCN6WnMSr5BSRnGM3TsXOMytpn9PHt2gZgMkOddJ7wqQ97svZVj2jF3xkgeAd7QjGhxr13tzw_7Yu_41hRW222G86wFs3Pgf0sUJAurgI3rQg3S3TojXStQRQFx-PCWy80Shsi66hmYUug/s1600/val3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCN6WnMSr5BSRnGM3TsXOMytpn9PHt2gZgMkOddJ7wqQ97svZVj2jF3xkgeAd7QjGhxr13tzw_7Yu_41hRW222G86wFs3Pgf0sUJAurgI3rQg3S3TojXStQRQFx-PCWy80Shsi66hmYUug/s1600/val3.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>The pool is the best part about Hotel Phoenicia. After a leisurely walk through the gardens, pausing to look at breathtaking views of Valletta's harbor, you find yourself at the base of the city walls, a large and welcoming pool beckoning you to jump in for a dip. The water is kept at the perfect temperature-- slightly heated for the cool April breezes wafting through the gardens at sunset. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We definitely did some sightseeing in Valletta before lounging poolside at the end of the day.<br />
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We had lunch at the Pegasus restaurant in the hotel since we were tired and starved after our unexpectedly long journey to Valletta. This lunch was one of my husband's favorite meals so far this year. Both of us enjoyed sumptuous soups as starters and fresh, grilled sea bass for the main course. Our waiter was extremely friendly and eager to inquire about our thoughts on Malta so far. He was clearly very proud and passionate about his country and had lots of suggestions (if only we had more time!) for us. We told him we had enjoyed our time in Gharb very much and everyone we met was so kind.<br />
"Ahh, that is characteristic of the Maltese!" he said with unabashed pride. "We are a very friendly people. The only time you can say something bad about us is when we are driving. Then, we get very hotheaded!"<br />
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It was late afternoon by the time we finished lunch so we rushed out of the hotel to see what we could of the city before the sun set. Valletta is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The fortified city is well-preserved, its hilly, cobbled streets ending at the glistening blue waters of the Grand Harbor.<br />
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St. John's Co-Cathedral is a must-see. It was commissioned in 1572 as the conventual church for the Knights of St. John and it's dedicated to St. John the Baptist. The Knights' mission was to protect the Catholic faith from attacks from the Ottoman Turks. The cathedral's stunning interior features over 400 colorful inlaid marble tombs commemorating some of the most illustrious Knights of the Order of St. John. They date from the early 17th century to the 19th century.<br />
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The walls and ceilings glitter with gold and Caravaggio's largest canvas, The Beheading of St. John the Baptist is the alter piece of the Oratory. Not only is it his largest painting, it's also the only one he's known to have signed (completed in 1608).<br />
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From the cathedral, we wandered the streets of Valletta, taking in the views of the sea. We lined up with a large crowd to indulge in scoops of ice cream from Caffe Cordina, "Malta's Finest Coffee Shop." We were a little disappointed that we arrived in Valletta too late to visit all of its important sites, but just walking around the city was a pleasure. The sun was shining and the sea was sparkling so we really enjoyed our time, even though it was short.<br />
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We made our way back to the hotel for a refreshing swim at the pool and watched the sun set over the harbor as the walls of the city rose behind us. What more could you ask for?<br />
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Since we had to wake up at four the next morning for our insanely early flight, we decided to have dinner at the hotel's Phoenix Restaurant. We actually preferred the lunch at Pegasus over dinner at Phoenix, but the food was still good. We were serenaded by an old-school piano player who regaled us with Elton John classics. We were the youngest diners in the restaurant by about 30 years so it was certainly an appropriate soundtrack for the crowd. But I suppose you're never too young or old for B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets.<br />
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Malta is a wonderful place to visit. It's a slice of heaven in the Mediterranean. The water is breathtakingly beautiful and the people are extremely friendly. Everything seems to be suspended in time, especially the village of Gharb. It's a good place to go if you want to feel like you're at the ends of the earth... until you hear those rickety buses crashing down the dusty streets. But riding the buses has its own charms. The drivers are nice (and brave) and being on the bus makes you realize just how small the island is because everyone knows each other and offers a "Good Morning" or "Good Day" whether you're a tourist or their neighbor.<br />
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I'll miss you, Malta.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-43048181599216125792014-04-17T11:36:00.001+02:002014-04-17T11:36:40.001+02:00Getaway to Gozo (Malta)We're lucky there was no snow this winter and temperatures were mild compared to the past two years, but we were thinking well in advance when we planned a trip in April to a warm, sunny place on the sea. We thought that by then, we would be tired of the cold and gloom. Sure enough, it was cloudy and chilly when we left Eindhoven for the Mediterranean shores of Malta.<div>
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We decided to make this vacation a relaxing one. No rushing from monument to monument, waiting in line at museums, crossing off countless items on a 'To-See' list. This time we'd laze around a pool and set our clocks by island time, no deadlines and no commitments other than watching the sun rise and set over the sea.</div>
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With this goal in mind, we rented a farmhouse on the Maltese island of Gozo in a tiny village called Gharb. We wanted remote and remote was certainly what we got. Our guidebook was a little misleading because we thought it would take us maybe 2 hours to get from the airport to Gharb. We landed in the early afternoon and didn't reach Gharb until almost 6pm! This was after taking a 45-minute bus from the airport to Cirkewwa ferry. Then after we'd managed to haul our luggage off the bus, we realized why everyone had made a mad rush for the terminal. We just missed the ferry by a minute. The next one wasn't for another 45 minutes. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On the Ferry to Gozo</i></td></tr>
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It was a 25-minute ferry ride to the harbor town of Mgarr on Gozo. We figured out the bus schedule and hopped aboard the next one to Victoria, the capital city of Gozo. 25 minutes later we were in Victoria and we still had one more bus to take, this time to Gharb. As luck would have it, we had just missed it and the next one wasn't scheduled for another hour. We quickly decided to take a taxi because even though we were trying really hard not to worry about time and schedules, our journey to the farmhouse was getting a little ridiculous.</div>
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Though it took a little longer that we expected, the farmhouse in Gharb was well worth the journey. The house is over 400 years old and furnished with lots of interesting antiques. It came with a private pool, barbecue area, 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a kitchen larger than the one in our apartment in Maastricht. Views of the Gharb countryside out to the Mediterranean sea were also complimentary. All of this cost less than half the price of a hotel! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Gozo Farmhouse</i></td></tr>
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We were in relaxation mode at last! We walked to a tiny grocery shop and bought items for dinner outside on the deck, overlooking the pool and Gharb's landscape. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dinner</i></td></tr>
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The next morning I was woken up by the brilliant sun streaming through our curtains. I folded them back to find the most perfect sun rising up over the village. We enjoyed a leisurely morning breakfasting on the terrace and breathing in fresh, salty air.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOs7rbl4UeOJBDosLYOP2kryhnL97a_L2wOM-FQtEvHThrOYBQm3LKp5n1GQrb5igj3TR9QFgKV6tkVxe0xRQlg1tzMtA5VxN3GLVUxXMI2H3Q7hPMK1xHV5iUf85oYTkqechBEvTWx8Zf/s1600/photo+1+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOs7rbl4UeOJBDosLYOP2kryhnL97a_L2wOM-FQtEvHThrOYBQm3LKp5n1GQrb5igj3TR9QFgKV6tkVxe0xRQlg1tzMtA5VxN3GLVUxXMI2H3Q7hPMK1xHV5iUf85oYTkqechBEvTWx8Zf/s1600/photo+1+(2).JPG" height="149" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunrise</i></td></tr>
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We knew that we needed more supplies for the next couple of days and our host suggested we take the bus back to Victoria where there are more shopping options. The bus schedule for the stop outside our house was once every hour. The bus didn't arrive until about 7 minutes after its posted time but it didn't bother us. Maltese bus drivers are on island time, too.</div>
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Now, a word about buses and driving in Malta in general. In Gozo, the roads are far from smooth. Riding the bus was a jarring experience, to say the least. There are potholes everywhere and the roads are so narrow that if two vehicles meet, one has to reverse itself back down the road to allow the other to pass. The bus drivers are fearless. I held my breath as we lurched past tractor-trailers and other buses. Once, our bus almost completely backed down a hill and I thought we were going to end up in the living room of the house behind us. Of course, no calamities occurred. It was easy to distinguish between the few tourists on the island and the native Maltese. Tourists were cringing and clutching the railings while the Maltese were calmly reading newspapers and chatting on their cell phones as we careened around corners and bumped onward to the next stop.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLIuLT8d3PX7pYd9MOBW56aPd_9MNiw7eNYA5fyUJGcWmQVTg_v76UzNT5igm6xDI8sPbrnfk9hw1mruC3vMLero0ZINjuEg3dYqjh4vGWNUzQPvQ0KeOQd3m4EWuE7waV_ig8iliLXxJ/s1600/P4102134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLIuLT8d3PX7pYd9MOBW56aPd_9MNiw7eNYA5fyUJGcWmQVTg_v76UzNT5igm6xDI8sPbrnfk9hw1mruC3vMLero0ZINjuEg3dYqjh4vGWNUzQPvQ0KeOQd3m4EWuE7waV_ig8iliLXxJ/s1600/P4102134.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Phone Booth in Gharb</i></td></tr>
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Finally we made it to Victoria and decided on a 25-minute walk to the nearest Lidl. One great thing about Malta (for us) is that most signs are in English and most people speak English extremely well. Malta was part of the British Empire for over 150 years. Driving is on the left, red British telephone booths pop up unexpectedly, and beer is sold in pints. We encountered lots of British people while we were in Malta. It seems like a very popular retirement destination for them. </div>
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So, back to Lidl. It was just like any other Lidl you'd find in Germany except everything was in English. We procured most of what we needed and as we were doing a final check, we heard a voice over the intercom say, "We are now closing until 4. Please do not place any more items in the checkout line." We were still searching for a couple of necessities and I frantically turned to my husband and asked, "Did you hear that? They're closing until 4?!"</div>
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"Yeah, I heard," he said. "That's so weird."</div>
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"Oh no. I think they must do afternoon siestas here or something and all of the business are going to be closed! Maybe even the bus drivers will take naps! How are we going to get the rest of our stuff and get back to Gharb?!" I replied frantically.</div>
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"I don't know but I guess we don't have a choice," he said.</div>
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We began throwing all of our merchandise onto the nearest conveyor belt. I looked around, wondering why everyone else in the store was still shopping calmly even though all of the cashiers were getting ready to close their registers and take naps in the break room.</div>
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Suddenly, another announcement was made, "We are now closing until 2. Please do not place any more items in the checkout line."</div>
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"What?!" I exclaimed. "This is crazy! Now they're only closing until 2? Why did they change it?"</div>
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My husband, as confused as I was, said, "I don't know. This is so weird."</div>
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Finally, after we'd tossed all of our groceries haphazardly onto the belt, I had a moment of clarity. Again, an announcement came over and said, "We are now closing until 1." I suddenly realized that Lidl wasn't closing until 4, 2, or even 1. They were closing TILLS 4, 2, and 1. Tills as in registers. You can imagine how boneheaded we felt. It reminded me of when we first moved here and everything we encountered called for panic and confusion. I guess it just goes to show that foreign travel, no matter how often you do it, can still leave you flummoxed-- even if everyone around you is speaking your native language.</div>
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We made our way back to the bus stop and, conveniently, had just missed the next one. Bus fare in Malta is extremely inexpensive. Two all-day tickets are just 3 Euros. But since we had several full bags, and it was hot and we were tired, we decided on taking a taxi again. It's difficult to cough up 10 Euros after spending only 3 for the bus but we were ready for our siestas, even if the rest of the island was still carrying on with business as usual.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uJCLZgLIcP46u5mCQ4yTqHXKe2PY6gd2Ps9QjC1jzANKWKmfoZYX-GBSUjo12_Vxpt5vWO03EzlmOdfQALnk-R9cdbd6btCOaIjZVM0YeJi5rXguDbAyGRgSFWt-vTF7SEgHiEeO8SU0/s1600/P4102132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uJCLZgLIcP46u5mCQ4yTqHXKe2PY6gd2Ps9QjC1jzANKWKmfoZYX-GBSUjo12_Vxpt5vWO03EzlmOdfQALnk-R9cdbd6btCOaIjZVM0YeJi5rXguDbAyGRgSFWt-vTF7SEgHiEeO8SU0/s1600/P4102132.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Street in Gharb</i></td></tr>
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We spent the rest of the day reading and relaxing by the pool. It's amazing how quickly the hours pass when there's nothing to do except admire the view and lounge. </div>
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The next morning was dedicated to Comino Island and The Blue Lagoon. Comino is a tiny island between Malta and Gozo (closer to Gozo). We took the bus from Gharb to Victoria, then to Mgarr to catch a boat to Comino. As soon as we stepped off the bus we were approached by a man who shoved brochures at us and told us that his boat to The Blue Lagoon was leaving in 5 minutes and we'd better be on it because the next one wouldn't leave for another hour. We were a little put-off by his aggressive approach but we took a brochure and said we'd think about it after we'd used the toilet. Once we came out, we were again accosted by someone, this time a woman. She told us we needed to get on the boat right away, making it sound as if we'd be stranded on Mgarr forever if we didn't act now. We agreed to go and when we stepped aboard the boat we realized the man who first approached us was the captain. Evidently, they were a very effective husband-and-wife team. We soon realized that the captain was very kind. I suppose you have to be sort of aggressive in order to make an on-the-spot sell in their line of work.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHTbXtuyYhQAy5boK0jR-rGFcJtrFB4gMlv31UruE2eVMIB6XdJrg-rxEUHDvCLGWfm7E9NbaYc9j85RguaHn-z8fqt_g5yos_646c4aOEW7hYmZuPCvaS_6UTcPqbGPC6rwCRwqqIjb-/s1600/P4102105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHTbXtuyYhQAy5boK0jR-rGFcJtrFB4gMlv31UruE2eVMIB6XdJrg-rxEUHDvCLGWfm7E9NbaYc9j85RguaHn-z8fqt_g5yos_646c4aOEW7hYmZuPCvaS_6UTcPqbGPC6rwCRwqqIjb-/s1600/P4102105.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>The boat ride took about 30 minutes. We were taken through beautiful caves and came across some kayakers. The water was the most deep and beautiful blue I've ever seen. It was almost unreal how clear it was. When we finally reached the shores of The Blue Lagoon, it took my breath away. This water was cyan blue, literally halfway between blue and green. I've never seen such sparkling water, not even in a swimming pool. </div>
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Admittedly, we took our trip to Malta when the water is still cold. Most people (other than my husband) weren't brave enough to venture into the water. There were also lots of jellyfish to avoid. Though I'm sad I wasn't able to swim in The Blue Lagoon, a part of me is very glad we went when we did. I've seen photos of what it looks like during the summer months. There are literally hundreds of people camped out on top of each other on the craggy rocks. Party boats blasting loud music are docked in the water and some people complain about the amount of garbage left behind at the end of the day. It was still crowded when we were there, but comfortably so. We weren't disturbed by cacophonous music and we had a suitable space to lounge right at the water's edge. We stayed on Comino for a couple of hours and then boarded the boat back to Mgarr. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Blue Lagoon</i></td></tr>
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We needed dinner for the night but this time we decided to forego Lidl and instead we shopped at a gourmet grocery store inside a mall. We grabbed lunch at a trendy little wine bar. Other patrons were all British retirees. Two ladies lunching beside us were having an animated conversation about one of their granddaughters and her terrible boyfriend.</div>
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"He's just dreadful! Dreadful!" she said.</div>
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"What does she expect to do for work, once she gets there?" asked her friend.</div>
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"I don't have any clue. He's been no help to her while she's looked for a job," she replied.</div>
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"A bloody arsehole is what he sounds like."</div>
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The protective grandmother took a dainty sip of her wine and replied, "Yes. You ought to see his Facebook."</div>
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I don't know why, but even conversations about Facebook sound so gentile coming from British ladies.</div>
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We returned to the farmhouse for one last relaxing evening. The sun rose every morning around the back of the house but we had yet to see it set. We found the perfect spot over a farmer's field and watched as the brilliant yellow faded to burnt orange. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sun Setting in Gharb</i></td></tr>
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Our relaxing days in Gozo had come to an end but we weren't finished with Malta yet. We were spending one afternoon and night in Valletta before making our return trip to The Netherlands.</div>
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Goodbye, Gharb. You're certainly worth all of the ferry, boat, and bus rides. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-19416198392428676662014-04-14T12:20:00.002+02:002014-04-14T12:20:45.489+02:00Edinburgh Castle and HaggisWe bought tickets in advance for Edinburgh Castle. It saved us a few pounds and some time since we avoided the long line of people waiting to purchase their tickets, and instead went straight to a self-service kiosk (no line) to retrieve ours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWLOLQb4KAF7qyOr8fD_lNosbFiYIBgDWJs4vQLTZcazGllBWo8GRSz-t7SeOrFk0W5vcRryxBIG3Sb5H1X_52-MHZlfd91ivC62U06raCNj54sDthWoUWMGRnHL5Cnh0TBcxlMNI5aTe/s1600/084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWLOLQb4KAF7qyOr8fD_lNosbFiYIBgDWJs4vQLTZcazGllBWo8GRSz-t7SeOrFk0W5vcRryxBIG3Sb5H1X_52-MHZlfd91ivC62U06raCNj54sDthWoUWMGRnHL5Cnh0TBcxlMNI5aTe/s1600/084.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Edinburgh Castle</i></td></tr>
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The oldest part of the castle, St. Margaret's Chapel, dates back to the 12th century. It was used as a private place of worship for the royal family. I was surprised to learn that it's still used today for christenings and weddings!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ78SrpMYeaWZ7BWT4PRGwnenzdJ3nfyJtt2DXDvikRdM_mGgD_RQ2e7hzxyHX4jjl0-xqVI7UpKp7naEHqLCrRk3IcSAmEJ-3bcC81rHM-00A1-IqrEOyaTxRIUanvf6I4XuXyKQtxFjf/s1600/warmem.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ78SrpMYeaWZ7BWT4PRGwnenzdJ3nfyJtt2DXDvikRdM_mGgD_RQ2e7hzxyHX4jjl0-xqVI7UpKp7naEHqLCrRk3IcSAmEJ-3bcC81rHM-00A1-IqrEOyaTxRIUanvf6I4XuXyKQtxFjf/s1600/warmem.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Scottish National<br />War Memorial</i></td></tr>
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We visited the Great Hall of King James IV and the Royal Palace. Mary, Queen of Scots, gave birth to James VI in the palace. The dungeons below the Great Hall housed prisoners of war from the late 18th to early 19th centuries. We also gazed upon Scotland's crown jewels, the oldest in the British Isles. The Stone of Destiny, also known as the Stone of Scone, is the main attraction in the Crown Room. For centuries it was used as a traditional coronation seat for Scotland's kings and queens. It was stolen in 1296 by English King Edward I and taken to Westminster Abbey. In 1950 some Scottish Nationalists brought the stone back to Scotland but it was soon returned to Westminster. Finally, in 1996, the Stone of Destiny was given back to Scotland and installed in the Crown Room.<br />
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The Scottish National War Memorial is very moving. It commemorates those who died during World Wars I and II, and of military campaigns since 1945. Inside the Hall of Honour is a steel casket containing a complete Roll of Honour of the Scottish dead. The shrine is illuminated by beautiful stained glass windows.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Regimental Museums Entrance</i></td></tr>
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We also strolled through the Regimental Museums, comprised of the Royal Scots Museum and the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards Museum. These regiments are two of Scotland's oldest and their histories are told in chronological order using everything from medals and old maps to personal accounts and artwork. Both museums are comprehensive and one could easily spend several hours wandering through and absorbing all of the history.<br />
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One of the world's most famous guns is also located at Edinburgh Castle. Mons Meg was given to King James II by Duke Philip of Burgundy in 1457. The 6-ton canon is capable of firing gunstones weighing 330lbs to a distance of nearly 2 miles. Mons Meg was last fired in 1681. A plaque beside it reads: "Defend Mons Meg! Please do not climb on Mons Meg. She leveled castle walls and terrified the enemies of Scotland's kings. But that was more than 500 years ago. Please treat this grand old lady with some respect."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mons Meg</i></td></tr>
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And speaking of canons, we stayed around to watch the One o'clock Gun Firing. It happens every day except Sunday and draws quite a crowd in anticipation. The origin of the tradition comes from the days when timepieces weren't available to sailing ships. They were able to check and reset their chronometers based upon the firing of the gun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9gpFKej96q9TgljTYulqfO1BorvjcUfQujlLBYsLswsHq4eY0C4JbgrVIrM4C12fekSZK-qsqIFNwFCQvY1kuTMoI65wQmqr2UcdlzVRPcnwX6Zvxs-Xww7ihyQp0NdQ1RZo5VBxTo-o/s1600/gunfire.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9gpFKej96q9TgljTYulqfO1BorvjcUfQujlLBYsLswsHq4eY0C4JbgrVIrM4C12fekSZK-qsqIFNwFCQvY1kuTMoI65wQmqr2UcdlzVRPcnwX6Zvxs-Xww7ihyQp0NdQ1RZo5VBxTo-o/s1600/gunfire.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>One o'clock Gun Firing</i></td></tr>
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After our morning spent at the castle, it was time for lunch. We decided to browse colorful Victoria Street until we found a place that piqued our interest. We ended up having a very nice lunch at Howie's, The menu was an interesting blend of Mediterranean dishes and Scottish favorites.<br />
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Having accomplished almost everything on our Edinburgh To-Do List, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Edinburgh, investigating Closes and window-shopping to the soundtrack of bagpipes. The weather was perfect and it was a nice way to cap off our final day.<br />
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We really wanted to try a traditional Scottish dining experience for dinner so we made reservations at Dubh Prais (pronounced Doo Prash). Reservations are a little difficult to come by so we ended up with a very early dinner time of 5:30. Though early, we weren't alone in the popular restaurant. Other diners quickly filled the small room that seats just 24 people. Our waitresses were very friendly and we even caught glimpses of the chef and owner as he prepared and finessed the dishes. I chose soup for my starter while my brave husband went in for the kill with haggis. Every restaurant prepares haggis a little differently. At Dubh Prais it's rolled in oatmeal, pan-fried, and served with a creamy leek and whiskey sauce. My husband had a bit of a difficult time getting it down but for some reason he had resolved to eat the entire portion and he achieved his goal. It wasn't until when we were at the airport waiting to board our flight back home that he looked up the official ingredients of haggis and turned a lovely shade of pea green.<br />
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For the main course I chose salmon and he went with a saddle of venison. Dessert was a light, delectable lemon shortcake. The food was excellent and I think if you are on a mission to eat haggis while you're in Edinburgh, Dubh Prais is probably one of the best options. Make sure to reserve well in advance for a more traditional dinner time, but if those slots are filled just take the earlier time-- you won't be sorry.<br />
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Our time in Edinburgh had sadly come to its end. We spent a lovely two days in the capital city and I would be happy to return again any time. People were very friendly, the city wasn't too overcrowded with tourists, and it was nice to be able to read and hear things in English. Sometimes you just miss small talk.<br />
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Until next time, Edinburgh. Keep the haggis in stock for my husband!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-90199051074596719002014-03-07T11:06:00.000+01:002014-03-07T17:20:33.996+01:00Escape to EdinburghCarnival season is over in Maastricht! The Vrijthof square beside our apartment was festooned with yellow, red, and green as Carnival music competed with the cacophony of revelers singing, screaming, and breaking empty bottles of beer on every surface imaginable. The revelry lasted well into the night from Friday until Tuesday. Mornings were eerily quiet, the remnants of the celebration of the night before left scattered throughout the cobblestones. At around noon, costumed merrymakers began to emerge from their hangover cocoons to begin the party once more. I'm impressed. I don't know how they did it but the Dutch certainly can't be accused of being party poopers.<br />
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We decided to trade the red, yellow, and green for blue and white. We exchanged the Carnival costumes for kilts. We swapped the Prince of Carnival for <i>The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</i>. And we communicated in English rather than Dutch for two glorious days. </div>
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Edinburgh, Scotland is just a short flight from here. We were lucky to arrive early on our Ryanair flight. Oh, I have a quick but wonderful side note about Ryanair. If you haven't heard already, they are attempting to transition to a normal airline! This means you can bring one piece of carry-on luggage AND *gasp* another small bag. Ladies, no more stuffing your purses and handbags into your suitcase at the last minute. Gents, no more stuffing your man purses into your suitcase at the last minute! Also, they are assigning seats. That means you don't have to jump up and rush to stand in line as soon as you see a surly Ryanair employee walk behind the desk only to avoid eye contact with you for 45 minutes while he or she periodically announces, "Your Ryanair flight will begin boarding... soon." These improvements began in February so you will be able to enjoy them on your next "on-time" Ryanair flight. I could really go on and on about how wonderful this is and how amazing it felt to be treated like people instead of cattle but I'll save the poetry for Auld Reekie.</div>
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We arrived at around 9 Friday morning and quickly found an Airlink bus for an easy half-hour ride right into the city center. We went with Airbnb this time and our studio apartment was on Blair Street, a very short walk away from just about everything. It was so nice to have the full day ahead of us. We immediately dropped our luggage and began our tourist route.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQWAvnIDLBCj62ydLft1QsslPxQPVrFLEtUiMs61b-Tqw4rYJVCgLt3d_ih21GhK3Z1rB8rR_dhtjB0q4BHRyxId_PgMTPNUal0JhN3iECbtmlyu38RVZimz-UDcq9rWo4BFAmTD0dKMMb/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQWAvnIDLBCj62ydLft1QsslPxQPVrFLEtUiMs61b-Tqw4rYJVCgLt3d_ih21GhK3Z1rB8rR_dhtjB0q4BHRyxId_PgMTPNUal0JhN3iECbtmlyu38RVZimz-UDcq9rWo4BFAmTD0dKMMb/s1600/002.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>First stop was The Real Mary King's Close. Closes are all over Edinburgh. A close is generally an alleyway or lane sloping off High Street. 17th-century Edinburgh was not a particularly pleasant place to live. Sanitation was non-existent; waste was thrown directly into the streets. Buildings grew upwards and society was also organized this way, with the most wealthy living close to the top and the poor residing down in the filth and waste. A close was often descriptively named for its business. For example, you could find a lawyer in Advocate's Close and buy bread in Bakehouse Close. Other closes, including Mary King's, were named after prominent residents.</div>
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Not much is known about Mary Close. She was a merchant and a widow with four children. After her husband's death she moved her family to the close. She rented a house near the top and also had a shop on High Street. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Entrance to Another Close</i></td></tr>
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The Real Mary King's Close is one of those tours designed to frighten you with ghost stories. Our tour guide was dedicated but faltering. Much of her storytelling fell flat and I don't think she achieved the "spooky" atmosphere with our group. With that said, it was still incredibly interesting to be able to walk through the old, intact close. It's easy to envision the meager living conditions, especially for those at the bottom of the close. We learned that many of the people in Mary King's Close were victims of the plague. It wasn't difficult to imagine the scuttling of infested rats as we passed through low, dark rooms with shadowed corners. We made our way through several homes. Many of the original features still exist, including walls, doorways, fireplaces, and remnants of foliage decoration in place of wallpaper. </div>
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Despite the soap opera-ish tone of the tour, I would still recommend taking it only for the unique experience of traveling back in time. I'm glad we did this first because it shed an entirely different light upon the Old Town. Every time I passed a close, I imagined the centuries just under our feet.</div>
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We emerged from the depths of Edinburgh in front of St. Giles' Cathedral. It's the City Church of Edinburgh and the Mother Church of Presbyterianism. Its 15th-century spire hovers grandly over the Royal Mile. One of the church's biggest moments happened in 1637 when a local woman, Jenny Geddes, threw her stool at the Dean giving the service. She was opposing the imposition by the King of London of a new prayer book. Her actions began a riot that eventually led to the signing of the National Covenant the next year. Sometimes all it takes to get things moving is the fury of a woman. And something to throw.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St. Giles' Cathedral</i></td></tr>
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I recently read <i>44 Scotland Street</i> by Alexander McCall Smith for my book club. I thought it would be fun to go to Scotland Street and take a photo in front of number 44 to share at our next meeting. My ever-humoring husband found Scotland Street on the map and warned that it would be a long walk. "It doesn't matter," I replied. "This is in the name of literature." 25 minutes later we found ourselves at the beginning of Scotland Street, a long, beautiful boulevard sloping down toward a park. I began to get more excited as we neared the 20s. I could just see all of McCall's characters walking up and down this street, strolling to the park. Finally we made it to the end and Scotland street curved slightly... into another street.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtXjg3EsN4CZJNX_thD33U2hwKnFsLMDYvaHuzP8jrUvivK-nUsBQiEqy2q2pHAk8_RkXiYZ-lSKunsdgIiPi7uL7iLDVwaV9DXy8iDhr8jotcsoMWgvWqzO3VTaeFn7d7knzrW1Sz-FY/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtXjg3EsN4CZJNX_thD33U2hwKnFsLMDYvaHuzP8jrUvivK-nUsBQiEqy2q2pHAk8_RkXiYZ-lSKunsdgIiPi7uL7iLDVwaV9DXy8iDhr8jotcsoMWgvWqzO3VTaeFn7d7knzrW1Sz-FY/s1600/019.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Scotland Street</i></td></tr>
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"This is impossible," I said. </div>
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"Maybe it's on the other side of the street," suggested my husband.</div>
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I practically ran to the other side and saw the number 43 poking out at the end. </div>
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"43!" I exclaimed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>As close as you'll get to<br />44 Scotland Street</i></td></tr>
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Both of us circled around in front of 43, the last house on the row. "But why!" I whined.</div>
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"Well, maybe the author chose that address precisely because it doesn't exist. I mean, can you imagine how many tourists would be tramping through here all the time?" he logically replied.</div>
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"It's just us! There aren't any other tourists here! It's just where people live and all I wanted to do was stand in front of the door and take a photo for book club." I complained.</div>
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"Sorry, babe," he said sympathetically.</div>
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We still took a gander at the park and it's good we stretched our legs a little because that pleasant downhill walk was now an uphill climb.</div>
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Since I'd dragged us all the way through Edinburgh for no specific reason, it was time for lunch when we reached the Old Town again. We decided against haggis and black pudding and chose instead some light Mediterranean fare at Laila's Bistro. We feasted on falafel and dolmades. The food was excellent, service was great, and the price was fair. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Arthur's Seat from Calton Hill</i></td></tr>
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Fortified, we began our next uphill battle: Calton Hill. There are different schools of thought regarding the best view in Edinburgh. Some prefer Arthur's Seat, a 251m hike up an old volcano. We chose the less strenuous option of Calton Hill. It also offers one of the best panoramas of Edinburgh-- you can even look up at Arthur's Seat from here and feel a.) Guilty for climbing the easier hill, or b.) Secure with your choice because you're on vacation and you have nothing to prove. </div>
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Calton Hill is interesting for more than just the views. Like Arthur's Seat, it was also formed by volcanic activity about 340 million years ago. It may have been used 4,000 years ago by Scotland's earliest people from the Bronze Age, and it's one of Britain's first public parks.</div>
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Several monuments are also perched at the top. The Nelson Monument commemorates the naval hero Admiral Horatio Nelson. He died leading his fleet to victory at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. The 30 meters-high monument is topped with a mechanized time ball synchronized with the 1pm gun fired from Edinburgh Castle. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Calton Hill Monuments</i></td></tr>
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The National Monument was built between 1822-29. It commemorates the Scottish soldiers who died during the Napoleonic Wars of 1803-1815. The National Monument is based on the Parthenon in Athens. Interestingly, it remains unfinished due to a lack of funding. Finished or not, the buildings on Calton Hill were instrumental in gaining the city the title 'The Athens of the North.'</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Edinburgh</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Old Calton Burial Ground</i></td></tr>
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We descended Calton Hill and came upon the Old Calton Burial Ground. It originally opened in 1718 for the burial of tradesmen and merchants. The main attraction is the tall black obelisk of the Political Martyrs' Monument commemorating those who suffered in the fight for electoral reform in the 1790s. It's also the final resting place of Scotland's most famous philosopher, David Hume. The cemetery was both peaceful and spooky and we enjoyed exploring the old tombstones so much that we decided to visit another cemetery before the sun faded.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Greyfriars Kirk</i></td></tr>
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Back in the Old Town, we walked to Greyfriars Kirk and Kirkyard. Greyfriars is where the National Covenant was signed in 1638. It was closed by the time we reached it so we weren't able to go inside but we did spend a lot of time in the graveyard. The Greyfriars Kirkyard is said to be one of Edinburgh's creepiest spots. We were certainly there at the right time for the imagination to run wild. The sun was going down and night was creeping upon us as a light rain fell, chilling us to the bones. Or was that the poltergeist? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Covenanter's Prison</i></td></tr>
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The MacKenzie Poltergeist is the best-documented case of poltergeist activity ever studied. Sir George MacKenzie, also known as Bloody Mackenzie, was an attorney who persecuted the Covenanters. They opposed the king to maintain the Presbyterian doctrine as the sole form of religion of Scotland. Because of their beliefs, they were imprisoned inside the graveyard in what is now called the Covenanter's Prison. Many died due to exposure to the elements and harsh treatment. Ironically, their prison is right around the corner from Bloody Mackenzie's mausoleum.</div>
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The gates to the Covenanter's Prison are locked but you can gain access by taking a ghost tour. Countless incidents have been reported regarding paranormal activity during those tours. Some people come out with bruises and scratches, complaints of being pushed by unseen hands, and experiencing cold spots in certain places. My husband looked into the grimy window of MacKenzie's tomb and told me he saw a well beside the casket. We thought that was strange and later learned that it's actually an old pit containing the remains of plague victims! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Greyfriars Kirkyard and Edinburgh Castle</i></td></tr>
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An added bonus of exploring the kirkyard is seeing the Flodden Wall. It's the remains of the town wall that was built around medieval Edinburgh as protection against a feared English invasion. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Flodden Wall</i></td></tr>
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I don't know if I would be up for the Covenanter's Prison tour. Just walking around the graveyard was disturbing enough for me. I suppose I generally believe that when a gate is locked, there's a good reason. Whether you take the tour or not, don't miss a stroll through the Greyfriars Kirkyard. It's one of the most interesting cemeteries I've ever been in, regardless of the poltergeist stories and plague pit.</div>
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After a long day of sightseeing, it was time to kick up our heels for dinner. We had reservations for Saturday night and definitely should have had the foresight to reserve for Friday as well. Most places were booked but we managed to find a nice one just below Edinburgh Castle called Maxie's Bistro. The menu was diverse, and the ambience cozy and warm. </div>
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Day 1 in Edinburgh was complete. From closes to crypts, and from Scotland Street to Calton's Hill, we'd seen a lot.</div>
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After a good night's sleep, Edinburgh Castle is the next stop!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-87290391135373399142014-02-20T11:56:00.001+01:002014-02-20T14:05:01.947+01:00I Left My Heart in BiarritzI think it's been a pretty mild winter here, considering the past two. The sun has shone more, the temperatures haven't been unbearable, and it hasn't snowed. Even still, I'm longing for summer days when the sun begins shining bright before 5am and doesn't go down until after 10pm. When I get a little gloomy, it helps to remember our vacation to Biarritz, France back in October.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>La Grande Plage</i></td></tr>
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We chose Biarritz on a real whim. We wanted to go somewhere warm just before it began getting cold here, and it had to be a destination offered by Ryanair because we didn't want to break the bank. All of the usual options were there: Spain, Portugal, the Canary Islands, but for some reason Biarritz kept catching my eye. I did some quick research and discovered that it's the surfing capital of Europe! Back in 1957, American screenwriter Peter Viertel arrived in Biarritz to film "The Sun Also Rises." He quickly became distracted by the large waves crashing onto the beach and sent for his surfboard back in California. These days Biarritz still retains a bohemian vibe, with lean, long-haired surfers walking around town and retro cars and vans parked alongside the beach waiting for the waves. Surfing schools are advertised everywhere and Biarritz also hosts televised surf competitions throughout the season.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Surfers Waiting</i></td></tr>
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All of this information was enough of an endorsement for us to book our tickets and apply sunscreen.<br />
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We arrived around lunchtime, checked into our hotel, and found a cozy French restaurant off-the-beaten-path. Tourist season was at its end since summer was over and we were the only Americans in the restaurant. It's one of those places where everyone is seated extremely close so conversations from neighboring tables eventually blend together easily and new friends are made fast.<br />
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Our new friend was a character. She was in her 80's, a perfectly-coiffed, heavily made-up French lady fashionably dressed and dripping in jewels. She was dining alone and happened to be sitting beside me. She smiled as soon as we were seated beside her and I could tell she was amused by us from the beginning. After we'd chosen our wine she leaned toward me and said, "That's a good choice. A nice, light red for lunch." I replied, "Oh, good! I'm glad we made the right decision!" She smiled knowingly and then leaned back into her seat.<br />
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A few moments passed and she couldn't contain herself any longer. She touched my shoulder and asked, "Where are you from?"<br />
"The United States," we replied.<br />
"Oui, oui, but <i>where</i> in America?" she asked.<br />
"I'm from Chicago and my wife is from Florida," my husband said.<br />
"Ahhhhh, Florida! Are you from Miami? I <i>love</i> Miami! Miami Beach is so fantastic. I go there all of the time and stay at the same hotel. Last time I was there it was my birthday and they gave me a big cake with lots of champagne. They know me there. It's fabulous!" she exclaimed.<br />
"That sounds nice," I said. "I've actually never been to Miami. I'm from north Florida."<br />
She squinted at me in disbelief, as if Florida only exists for the purpose of Miami and said, "But you must go there. It's fabulous."<br />
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She then produced a key chain with her name on one side and Miami and palm trees on the other. She pressed a little button and the name plate lit up as she giggled delightedly. We told her that even though she liked Miami, we were very excited to come to Biarritz.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2z6ZpgEDED7LEmFMqRDsXwffiATEmavTpo5PedUbEXl6giFpjwL93rODwKAatbx0moSiUmLMuLhUVyqFrmSYCPwBx1bopumaf7bd_XAHK0qmkYnNPAua3guEYsWF4co8QYnGzJ4WUWjX/s1600/104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2z6ZpgEDED7LEmFMqRDsXwffiATEmavTpo5PedUbEXl6giFpjwL93rODwKAatbx0moSiUmLMuLhUVyqFrmSYCPwBx1bopumaf7bd_XAHK0qmkYnNPAua3guEYsWF4co8QYnGzJ4WUWjX/s1600/104.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunset in Biarritz</i></td></tr>
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"Ugh, Biarritz," she replied disdainfully. "It's not as nice. Do you know how much I pay in healthcare? It's astronomical. And the beaches here.... ehhhhhh, not so good. Oh, sure, you get a sunset. Big deal. And some people broke into my house once! Did you know that?! Terrible, it is. I want to move to Miami."<br />
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Right after this, our food came. She looked over our plates with approval and then proclaimed to the waitress, "Gabrielle, the young American couple would now prefer to have the "Vin du Jacqueline." The waitress looked at us questioningly and I quickly said, "Yes, sure, that would be great." She soon produced the same bottle of wine that Jacqueline was nursing. We took a sip of our first glasses and agreed that it was very good. "It's the best wine you can get here, in this place," she remarked. "Perfect for a nice lunch of omelette."<br />
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We began eating as she smiled contentedly. Suddenly, as my fork was mid-air, she asked, "What do you think of Obamacare?"<br />
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We were a little startled by the question. I stuffed my food into my mouth and waited for my husband to give a diplomatic answer. It's always tricky talking politics with people from other countries. You never know what they're thinking. Sometimes they love America and sometimes they really hate it. We had just ordered the new bottle of wine and began eating so we knew it would be an uncomfortable afternoon if we got into a debate with Jacqueline. Much to our relief, she really only wanted to give her opinion on healthcare so we chewed and sipped as she glugged and lectured about her thoughts on healthcare in France, America, and Switzerland, where her daughter lives.<br />
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Eventually she quieted down and that was a good thing because by now Gabrielle, the waitress, looked ready to swoop in at any moment to pardon us from the spirited Jacqueline. There was no harm done, though. Jacqueline finished the last of her wine and said (not for the first time), "Okay, children, I must go now to my hair appointment. You can see my hair is a mess and I must make it look nice."<br />
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As she was standing, she patted me on the knee and said, "You are so American!" Then she winked and said, "Goodbye, children" over her shoulder as she strutted out of the restaurant and onto the streets of Biarritz, leaving behind a faint whiff of Chanel and Vin du Jacqueline.<br />
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It was an exciting start to our vacation!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Crashing Waves and the<br />Hotel du Palais</i></td></tr>
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Though Biarritz is mainly known today for its surfing, the luxurious seaside town has a unique history that began long before the arrival of California culture. The Hotel du Palais was built by Napoleon III in 1854 for his wife, Empress Eugenie. Eugenie had fallen in love with Biarritz and their residence soon became host to all manner of European royalty and even Russian nobility. Today, the former palace is a luxury hotel with a prime location right on the beach. Needless to say, we could not afford to stay at the Hotel du Palais during our vacation but we did take photos and ogle people going in and out of the secured grounds. As far as I could tell, there were no royals.<br />
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We visited a history museum one afternoon. It mostly featured the story of Napoleon III and Eugenie. There was also an interesting portion dedicated to Biarritz at the end of World War II. In the summer of 1945, the Americans opened a university aimed toward providing a transition between army life and academic life. Many of the students had been in the front line during the war and all were ordered to remove their caps, un-ranking them and making them equals.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Walking Out to a Summit</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvE6oFOxsZ7WfUD7tR_N3Gesm8TzHnBQozWilflE-q7Gg7FAC-UYe4pkJJFCFTnPhnpcFyrG1CeWL7jKP0drlFKYoqJ5ukT5FkpNVyxR2hwWKze0J6IDqcyjwEF681oxcsvlpWCWQCavYZ/s1600/114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvE6oFOxsZ7WfUD7tR_N3Gesm8TzHnBQozWilflE-q7Gg7FAC-UYe4pkJJFCFTnPhnpcFyrG1CeWL7jKP0drlFKYoqJ5ukT5FkpNVyxR2hwWKze0J6IDqcyjwEF681oxcsvlpWCWQCavYZ/s1600/114.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>We also walked along the coast to the lighthouse. It was built in 1834 and unfortunately wasn't open while we were there. Otherwise, we would have climbed the 248 steps for a panorama of the Basque coast. We weren't too disappointed though; the grounds around the lighthouse were well-manicured and lovely and the views were still breathtaking. We walked back to the town through hidden gardens and alcoves built right into the cliffs.<br />
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The sea was generally a little too rough for swimming (great for surfing) but luckily there was a nice, calm cove perfect for a dip. The water was a bit too cold for me but my husband braved the chilly waters of the Port-Vieux beach and swam for a while. Sometimes there's a strong undercurrent that swimmers claim pulls you out to sea. My husband said he felt it while he was swimming. Though the water was cold, we saw several dedicated swimmers during our few days there. They most likely belonged to the Polar Bear Club, one of the oldest clubs in Biarritz, established in 1929. Its members swim every single day of the year, even Christmas!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Port-Vieux</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Perfect Lunch</i></td></tr>
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While I watched my husband swim and made sure he didn't get sucked out into the Atlantic, a group of school children walked to the beach and sat down to eat their lunches. They were all so well-behaved and I was delighted to see that they were eating baguettes! How very perfect and French! I thought about how nice it must be for them to have the Basque coast for their lunchroom. But then again, maybe they are too accustomed to it now and share Jacqueline's underwhelmed opinion. I hope not. Maybe that doesn't happen until you're 80, and those children have a long way to go and many happy lunches ahead of them.<br />
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Biarritz is very small and conducive to ultimate relaxation. All we really did was eat, drink, relax, and watch the sunset every evening. All of the restaurants were great and well-priced. We went to a unique tapas bar in the heart of Biarritz a few times. Its called Le Comptoir Du Foie Gras. The foie gras was prepared in every way imaginable. I thought my husband was going to turn into a duck because he ate so much. The other tapas were creative and delicious as well. There was a nice mixture of cheese, bruschetta, cured meats, and vegetarian options. We stood at tall round tables on the outside of the bar and ate our fill as we sipped champagne. It was extremely decadent and lots of fun. The crowd was an eclectic mixture of people just getting off work and enjoying happy hour, and salty surfers taking a break from the waves.<br />
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Biarritz is a beauty. We had an affordable, restful vacation and I would love to return someday with my children so they can eat baguettes on the beach. With its old-world charm and rich history, it feels almost like a place time has forgotten. The sprawling Hotel du Palais looks much the same as it did when Napoleon III and Eugenie were entertaining royal guests. The beaches are clean and untainted and there are lots of different summits to stand upon as you watch the sun fade into the ocean. But just when you think you're going to turn around and see elegant sunbathers from the 1800s, an athletic girl with drenched, sun-streaked blonde hair jogs past you holding her surfboard high, eyeing the next big wave.<br />
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I'll be back, Biarritz. Keep the Vin du Jacqueline in stock.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-57323571340450842232014-02-17T14:24:00.003+01:002014-02-17T14:24:34.906+01:00A Sunday in Slovakia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bratislava is about an hour's train ride away from Vienna. We had a day to spare so we decided to country-hop to Slovakia. Bratislava is the state capital and largest city in Slovakia. We kept to the old town city center during our visit. It's the smallest part of Bratislava but tourists, shops, and restaurants fill the tiny streets.<br />
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Our entry into the old town was rather traumatic. We asked a taxi driver how much it would be for a ride to the city center and he confidently replied, "Fifteen Euros." We didn't know any better so we accepted his offer and hopped into the jalopy. Less than 5 minutes later we were dropped off at a curb and of course realized then that we had been cheated since the train station was so close. The cab ride back to the station a few hours later was a much more reasonable 5 Euros. Oh, well. You'll know better when you go to Bratislava.<br />
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It was around 10am on a Sunday morning so the streets were quiet and peaceful in the old town. We entered by passing under St. Michael's Gate and Tower. It was built in the 14th century and is the only preserved gate of the city's medieval fortifications.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St. Michael's Gate and Tower</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Old Town Hall and square</i></td></tr>
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We spent some time going in and out of shops and taking photos of the interesting buildings in the old town. We also made a quick stop at a restaurant to try some creamy garlic soup, a Slovakian specialty. It was very good. And very garlicky. Sadly, I can't remember the name of the restaurant we found on a tiny side-street but they also served some amazing dark beer with a complexity and richness that rivaled many Belgian beers I've had. Slovakian beer; who knew?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St. Martin's Cathedral</i></td></tr>
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Our next stop was St. Martin's Cathedral. It's on the very edge of the old town and was built in the 13th century. In the late 14th century, Gothic architecture replaced the original Romanesque construction. 19 Hungarian emperors were crowned in St. Martin's Cathedral.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Artwork on the windows of a cafe under the cathedral.</i></td></tr>
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From the cathedral, it's an easy walk up to Bratislava Castle. The castle has been inhabited since the late Stone Age, with its first written record dating back to 907AD. After 1526, it became the seat of Hungarian monarchs and was later transformed into a luxurious Baroque residence. In 1811 the castle was burnt down and reconstruction began many years later, in 1953. The Crown Tower, built in the 13th century, is still standing today.<br />
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We spent about an hour wandering around the castle grounds and taking in the panoramic view of Bratislava. It's certainly a city where old meets new in a very abrupt way, almost crashing. The walk leading up to the castle is crumbling, grassy steps but all you have to do is look to the left during your ascent and you are confronted with a highway directly below, and a bustling metropolis across the Novy Most (New Bridge) over the Danube River.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>New Bridge over the Danube</i></td></tr>
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There was still one more food specialty for us to try in Bratislava: Bryndzove halushky, potato dumplings with sheep cheese and roasted bacon. Needless to say, it's a very rich, heavy dish that is difficult to finish in one sitting since it's served so generously. Who doesn't like potatoes, bacon, and cheese, though? It's like a loaded baked potato but much more decadent and delicious. I thought the food in Bratislava was great. Portions were large, prices were reasonable, and the dishes were flavorful. Not surprisingly. the menus reminded me a lot of those in Budapest.<br />
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We finished the day by watching the sun set over the Danube. I found the old town in Bratislava to be charming and clean. Though we were joined by other tourists, the crowds weren't overwhelming and it was nice to be able to experience the quiet, clean streets without hordes of people.<br />
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If you're ever in Vienna with a day to spare, hop on the train to Bratislava and take a gander at the old city and castle. It's worth it, especially if you can find that dark beer.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-18995498452321471192014-01-23T09:36:00.002+01:002014-01-23T09:36:45.890+01:00Vienna: From Cafes to Crypts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkpeNLBR3Ru9DO6swwQYl4p4_WsgF07nvkv9DMSWDCTGdmiWhyphenhyphenMIbnXZAOAIu889MUADQtkgMlt7ajE4EG49kN3uSu-LHUNOB95Rz0SySrpSe77vgbGRwtkxHecQOdVuwvlWHXCYYZWtL/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkpeNLBR3Ru9DO6swwQYl4p4_WsgF07nvkv9DMSWDCTGdmiWhyphenhyphenMIbnXZAOAIu889MUADQtkgMlt7ajE4EG49kN3uSu-LHUNOB95Rz0SySrpSe77vgbGRwtkxHecQOdVuwvlWHXCYYZWtL/s1600/036.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>The next morning in Vienna was cold and foggy. We walked to the historic old town center and saw St. Stephen's Cathedral. It was reduced to rubble by fire during WWII and rebuilt from the ashes in only seven years. The detailing on the exterior of the gothic church is amazing. The interior was beautiful, also very gothic and imposing. The church is still used for services today and is considered the most important Catholic church in Vienna.<br />
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We decided that the weather was still a little too miserable so we retired to a Viennese institution, Cafe Central. It first opened in 1876 and was a popular meeting place for great minds like Sigmund Freud and Leo Trotzki. The Viennese Coffee House Culture is listed as "Intangible Cultural Heritage" by UNESCO. We had a grand time enjoying Viennese coffee, pastries, and goulash soup in the impressive, columned interior. </div>
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Our next stop was the Sisi Museum. Sisi refers to Empress Elisabeth of Austria. I really didn't know much about the Empress or even the Habsburgs before our trip to Vienna. I found the history fascinating and was completely enthralled by the story of the misunderstood Empress. The museum is inside the Hofburg Palace, in a different section from the one we were in for the ball.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sisi Museum Entrance</i></td></tr>
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We began with a comprehensive tour of the Imperial Silver Collection. It includes everything from tableware and linen to toothbrush holders and bedpans. There are around 7,000 items of solid gold and silver displayed. I thought the description of the foot-washing ceremony was the most interesting part of the tour. Each year on Holy Thursday the Empress and Emperor washed the feet of twelve (each) elderly men and women in a ceremony meant to emulate Christ washing the feet of his disciples. The elderly paupers then received gifts of wine, food, and coins. On display were the gold lavabo sets used during the ceremony.</div>
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Next is the Sisi Museum. More than 300 items from Empress Elisabeth's life are on display. Visitors are taken through her childhood, betrothal to Emperor Franz Joseph, marriage, motherhood, and finally her death by assassination. She seemed to be a complicated and intriguing woman. Her beauty was world-famous and she went to great lengths to make sure it stayed that way. She had her own gymnasium set up in her apartments in the palace and performed a strenuous daily exercise program followed by massages. Her ankle-length hair was washed during an all-day process with egg yolk and cognac. She took warm olive oil baths and wore face masks made from crushed strawberries or raw veal, which she wore all night. Her largest waist measurement was 19.5 inches, and at one point she had reduced it to 16 inches. She was once described as "almost inhumanly slender."</div>
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After the suicide of her son in 1889, she spent the rest of her life in mourning. She wore only black jewelry, became withdrawn, and traveled incessantly. She went to Geneva in September 1898 for a health cure. Luigi Lucheni, an anarchist, was in the city on a mission to assassinate a ruling member of a royal family as part of a protest. His intended victim was a prince who canceled his visit at the last minute. Lucheni read about the empress' visit and schedule in a newspaper and decided she would do. He attacked her with a sharpened file while she was strolling at a lake promenade. The wound was small, so small in fact that the empress believed she had just been punched. It was only after she had boarded a steamship that her companion noticed blood on her chemise and realized she'd been stabbed. Empress Elisabeth died of internal bleeding from the fatal wound. Lucheni was arrested and eventually hung himself in his jail cell.</div>
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Once you learn about Sisi's life, the tour brings you to the Imperial Apartments. The Hofburg was the residence of the Habsburgs for over 600 years. The apartments of Franz Joseph and Emperor Elisabeth offer a glimpse into their royal lives. Their bedrooms, dressing rooms, and personal desks are on display. It was interesting to see Elisabeth's exercise equipment and the tub where she bathed in olive oil. </div>
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The Sisi Museum is a must-do in Vienna. We spent several happy hours wandering through the palace and learning about Empress Elisabeth. </div>
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The next day was spent in Bratislava, Slovakia and that deserves its own entry so I'll finish up with Vienna before we hop on the train.</div>
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Our most notable dinner, aside from the one before the ball, was at the Le LOFT restaurant at the top of the Sofitel. The gourmet French restaurant is on the 18th floor, offering magnificent views of Vienna. We were spellbound by the all-around glass windows and colorful ceiling that seemed to project itself out into the Viennese sky. The menu was what you'd expect at a place like this: overpriced, hoity-toity, with a gin and tonic setting you back a staggering 18 Euros. I don't think that I would recommend the Le LOFT restaurant because it's the kind of place where you pay a lot and leave hungry, but I would suggest eating a reasonably-priced dinner elsewhere and having one fancy drink at the bar so you can enjoy the view. </div>
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On our final morning in Vienna we went to another coffee house, this time the Demel. It was established in 1786 and known for its confections and pastries. We sat upstairs in the non-smoking section and I absolutely loved the Rococo interior. I ordered the goulash soup to compare it to Cafe Central. Demel's is the hands-down winner. It was rich, thick, and delicious. I washed it down with raspberry water. My husband had traditional Viennese sausage served with mustard and shredded horseradish.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGO0-kwcZb8_ujbe29JXTrHvRoMS4JAnV0lbIipXehpWrRJDiF7uNm_hbF7l6Gca73zC2AHQbvvaycuDvJ92OD3lIrnWR8PF797wAlcnMdzWd42C37jq2f6uDERQzFwPHZIf9vJg-9YlR/s1600/167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGO0-kwcZb8_ujbe29JXTrHvRoMS4JAnV0lbIipXehpWrRJDiF7uNm_hbF7l6Gca73zC2AHQbvvaycuDvJ92OD3lIrnWR8PF797wAlcnMdzWd42C37jq2f6uDERQzFwPHZIf9vJg-9YlR/s1600/167.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Last on our list was a visit to the Imperial Crypt at Capuchin Church. The exterior of the church is completely unassuming, especially compared to St. Stephen's Cathedral. The Imperial Crypt is the burial vault of the Habsburgs. There is a double sarcophagus with the bodies of Maria Theresa and Francis Stephen, the parents of Marie Antoinette. The crypt also contains the tombs of Franz Joseph, Empress Elisabeth, and their son. Interestingly, the tombs contain only the bodies while their hearts are in urns at a different chapel and their entrails are in a crypt under St. Stephen's Cathedral. Burials still take place in the crypt today, the most recent entombment being that of Otto Habsburg who died in 2011.</div>
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Our sightseeing in Vienna was at its end. I really loved the city. It was clean and lovely and people were friendly. The food, in general, was very good and affordable (with the exception of Le LOFT). The highlights for me were the ball and the Sisi museum. </div>
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So long, Vienna! Maybe I'll see you at the opera some time.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-12676530723330815372014-01-22T14:27:00.000+01:002014-01-22T14:27:05.600+01:00An Evening at a Ball in ViennaIt's ball season in Vienna! I can't think of a better reason to hop on a plane and travel to the capital and largest city in Austria. Every year, Vienna hosts more than 450 balls! I never thought I'd attend one but this year the opportunity was presented to us and we thought, "Why not?" The ball we attended was held in the Hofburg Palace, the residence of the Austrian sovereigns for over 600 years. Today it houses the offices of the democratic Republic of Austria. <div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Reichenberger Griechenbeisl</i></td></tr>
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After we were suited up appropriately according to dress code, we headed off to dinner at the Reichenberger Griechenbeisl. The first mention of this building was in 1350. The tower, still standing today, survives from the Middle Ages. The inn has endured attacks from the Turks, earthquakes, floods, and the plague. Since then, the Griechenbeisl has been the meeting place for many prominent scholars, artists, and politicians including Mark Twain, Wagner, Mozart, Beethoven, and even Johnny Cash. We dined in the Mark Twain Room where the ceiling and walls are covered with the signatures of the famous. The food and service was excellent and dinner was a fabulous beginning to our magical evening.</div>
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We arrived at the palace just as the doors were officially opening. There was a long line of people outside, some being dropped off in horse-drawn carriages. The men were elegantly dressed in tailcoats and dinner jackets while the women dazzled in floor-length gowns, jewels, and fur stoles. The scenery was so surreal. With the carriages, palace, and lavish dress, it was easy to imagine we had been transported to a different century, awaiting the doors to open into the palace where we would all be greeted the Habsburgs. </div>
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Soon the doors opened and the line moved swiftly. The electricity buzzing through the crowd grew more intense as we arrived in the entry room. It was illuminated by a grand chandelier. Straight ahead was a stately staircase covered by red carpet. Different languages floated around us as we ascended into room after room, each one more splendid than the last. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Main Ballroom</i></td></tr>
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We watched the opening ceremony, with the lovely debutantes and their escorts parading through the main ballroom followed by Austrian dignitaries. At one point we unintentionally found ourselves in the service quarters of the palace, looking for the toilets. We asked a lone trumpet player to direct us. When we came out, he was still sitting on a bench practicing his music. He asked where we were from and when we told him he said, "Wow! You've come such a long way! And I hope you can stay a few more days to enjoy our wonderful city." We replied that we were lucky to have a couple more days after the ball to explore Vienna. He wished us a good night and a wonderful time in his city and when we reached the elevator, we heard the first few notes of the Star-Spangled Banner trumpeted behind us!</div>
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We remained bewitched throughout the rest of the evening. We watched couples, both amateur and expert, waltzing around the many dance floors. Eventually we retired to one of the rooms to rest our feet for a while. The band playing in this room was interesting because they were called something like Flowers on the Wind or Petals Flowing -- basically a tribute band to the 1970's. They sounded great and I was surprised to hear "Runaway Trains" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and a few other American rock songs. Couples took to the floor in full ball regalia and managed to waltz beautifully to the music.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Debutantes!</i></td></tr>
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Soon some debutantes arrived. The girls were beautiful and elegant, all dressed in snowy white gowns with white gloves to their elbows. Some danced with their handsome escorts while others mingled with the crowd. My favorite moment was when two of the girls broke away from their partners and clasped hands. They swung around in a circle, laughing and smiling at each other. Their demure gowns flaunted their purity and wholesomeness. In one second they went from chic women to little girls and I thought about how, too soon, moments like this would become rarer and rarer as they fully entered society and grew up to become perfectly-coiffed, flawlessly-dressed women on the arms of their husbands, laden with the responsibilities of being an adult. It was a spontaneous, carefree moment of innocence and happiness that I felt somehow lucky to have witnessed. Maybe I'm a little too sentimental but it really touched me. </div>
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The ball didn't end until four in the morning and we made a good show of staying out as long as possible. The party was still in full-swing as we departed. The rest of the attendees still looked flawless despite being on their feet for hours. I wondered how many of them would be attending 10 or 15 other balls (perhaps more!) throughout the rest of the season. What an exciting time to be Viennese!</div>
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I certainly never imagined myself attending a ball in Vienna. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience and one that I feel very fortunate to have had. There are many times I wake up and ask myself, "Is this really my life?" For a girl from a one-horse town in north Florida it was a dream come true, and since I saw the Viennese waltz to Tom Petty (from Florida), I now know that you don't have to be Cinderella to get an invitation to the ball.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-30626003661195622972014-01-14T14:57:00.002+01:002014-01-14T14:57:40.195+01:00Final Moments in Moscow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCT-dcrLHvflBru9gGSXZq3_mNYwOIuqWrSR0c2G_uUaFy7fJUEPZmWNGoxiRQnXCX_KeRKxJC5iOrmgSiXSy6eNI-ToG6nkRJGt33VVHdlDiUa1wtkL9FRvT08Ghyphenhyphen8hQsIBJNkpcfPb-/s1600/081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCT-dcrLHvflBru9gGSXZq3_mNYwOIuqWrSR0c2G_uUaFy7fJUEPZmWNGoxiRQnXCX_KeRKxJC5iOrmgSiXSy6eNI-ToG6nkRJGt33VVHdlDiUa1wtkL9FRvT08Ghyphenhyphen8hQsIBJNkpcfPb-/s200/081.JPG" width="150" /></a>Oops, I took an unintended hiatus from the blog but I haven't forgotten about Moscow!<br />
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We spent the entire final day touring the Kremlin. We joined many other visitors in a long line early in the morning. Because we weren't attached to a tour group, we had to secure our own tickets and the process was a little confusing but we finally managed to enter the sprawling complex.<br />
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We strolled through Ivan Square and saw the Tsar Bell and Cannon. We were able to tour a new museum, the Ivan the Great Bell-Tower. We were given audio guides to take us through the tower. It was an interesting blend of old and new, with multimedia images projected onto the tower's walls. The history of the Kremlin's construction is so vast. I admit that at some points during the extremely comprehensive audio lesson I zoned out and missed huge gaps of information.<br />
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In one of the rooms I remember listening to something about the 16th century and then suddenly the voice in my ears had brought us up to the current date. I must have somehow missed at least 15 minutes of information. But no matter, I think the crowning moment of the tour of the tower is climbing to the upper gallery and being rewarded (for all of that hard work listening) with a bird's eye view of the Kremlin and the city of Moscow beyond.<br />
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After the tower, we made our way to Cathedral Square and visited all of the grand cathedrals. They were very different from any I've seen before, with their golden cupolas and what seems like thousands of frescoes lining the walls from floor to ceiling. All of the cathedrals were crowded with tourists and walking through them was almost overwhelming because there was so much to see.<br />
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By now it was afternoon and we were hungry so we decided to break for lunch and then return to the Kremlin to tour the Armoury. As we made our way out we noticed lots of fancy black sedans with tinted windows parked outside the Grand Kremlin Palace. We thought something must be happening, that perhaps we might catch a glimpse of Vladimir. We stood around with a hundred other people, watching the comings and goings of the anonymous cars but finally hunger overtook us.<br />
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Just outside the Kremlin is a shopping mall with lots of chain restaurants. I was surprised to see a Sbarro and we decided that would probably be the quickest and most economical choice for our quick lunch. On our way to the restaurant we noticed some military buses lined up on the road leading to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We could also see that a military band was getting ready to march. There was an electricity in the air, an anticipation of something, and people were beginning to gather. Of course now my curiosity was on overload and I was dying to know what was happening.<br />
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Sbarro actually has windows facing out toward the Tomb and I decided to ask the friendly server if she knew about any special event.<br />
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"I'll just have a slice of cheese pizza please," I said.<br />
"Excellent choice!" she replied. "Is there something else?"<br />
"Actually, I was wondering if you know what's going on at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider," I said.<br />
She frowned in concentration and then said, "Ahh, yes! There is some king who's coming. He's going to lay the wreath."<br />
"Wow!" I almost shouted. "Do you know which king?"<br />
"Hmmm... I cannot remember," she said regrettfully.<br />
"Okay, well thank you!"<br />
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This was enough information for me anyway. I was already imagining Prince William and Kate. I wondered if they would bring George and Harry. Or the Queen. I gathered my tray and began walking away from the line, stars in my eyes as I imagined the monumental moment the British Royal Family would spot me in the crowd and shout, "Hello! We are having a party later and you're invited!" This was a little like my minor hallucination that George Clooney was going to organize a birthday party for me at his villa in Lake Como. But I digress.<br />
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Before I could walk away, the kind woman shouted after me, "Wait! I just remembered! It's the Prince of Monaco!"<br />
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Hmmmm... slightly less exciting than Will and Kate but I'd take it! I rushed over to the table and breathlessly told my husband (in a terrible run-on sentence), "I just found out what's happening. A prince is going to lay the wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier! And it's happening in 15 minutes! So we have to eat and drink fast because I'm NOT missing this! And guess who it is. You will never guess!"<br />
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He stared at me blankly, a slice of pizza hovering halfway to his mouth. "I give up," he said.<br />
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With an exasperated sigh I said, "Prince Albert!!!!"<br />
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He began to chew on the pizza, accompanied still by a blank look.<br />
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With a look that I hoped conveyed to him how disappointed I was by his lack of knowledge about princes, I exclaimed, "Monaco! The Prince of Monaco! GEEZ! You know, Grace Kelly?!"<br />
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I sat down huffily and began inhaling my food. I sensed that this event was not as life-altering for my husband as it was for me but I knew he would humor me so he also wolfed down his food and then I practically ran out of the mall and onto the steps overlooking the Tomb.<br />
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What greeted us outside was a scene similar to the one we left when we went in for lunch: people milling around, excitement bristling in the cold temperatures, and even more military getting into formation. What had changed was also pretty thrilling. There were now plainclothes secret servicemen patrolling the crowds and there were very Russian-looking men standing guard a few feet from the crowds, wearing earpieces and scanning everyone. I felt like I was in a movie. I hate to feed stereotypes but these burly men really did all look like James Bond. Just behind us, we saw two of the plainclothes guys approach two surly-looking men. One of them was holding a backpack. The agents leaned down and calmly spoke to them. Suddenly they followed the guards into the mall and away from the crowd and we never saw them again! I admit I have a flair for the dramatic, but that is really what happened! It was very surreal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlf8J5wzHHGL54jI_K_I8PUSkD4jlZiAOnGsevmcqOw3-aQJDaYryUeSNN8znMRqGH4Z-qHxIUKb6D_QLpTST8UkaZBtgFvfM0VTrN8ab35DEJiKZWE98pCw7Kq5D1t1I2Ffn2_JZnu9v/s1600/155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlf8J5wzHHGL54jI_K_I8PUSkD4jlZiAOnGsevmcqOw3-aQJDaYryUeSNN8znMRqGH4Z-qHxIUKb6D_QLpTST8UkaZBtgFvfM0VTrN8ab35DEJiKZWE98pCw7Kq5D1t1I2Ffn2_JZnu9v/s200/155.JPG" width="200" /></a>Eventually the military marched in, playing their instruments. Lots of official-looking people followed behind them and approached the Tomb. I used my camera for binoculars and soon spotted the thinning hair on top of Prince Albert's head. Of course, the ceremony was quite short. As soon as the wreath was laid and pictures were posed for, Albert and his entourage were swiftly driven away from the Tomb and back inside the Kremlin. The crowds dispersed and the Russian James Bonds went back to their secret lairs filled with weapons and technology we don't even know of yet. Or they just went to lunch. They probably went to lunch.<br />
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Next up was the Kremlin Armoury. It's one of the oldest museums in Moscow. We waited in another long line, this time behind some young Russian men. I only mention this anecdote because I found it amusing. We'd been in Moscow for a couple of days by now and we were accustomed to the curious stares we received when people realized we are American. No one had been hostile or confrontational, though, and I actually found Russians to be more genial than lots of Germans we've met since living here. Russians might be curious about an American but at least they didn't fix us with unflinching, piercing stares.<br />
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Anyway, the two men ahead of us in line heard us speaking at some point and both turned around with curious glances at us. After a while it seemed like any time we'd say something, one of them would turn around to look at us and then look to each other and smirk. We weren't talking about anything interesting, certainly not about politics, but this was during the government shutdown in America and I guess even people in Russia were talking about it. Eventually the more brazen of the two said something to his friend and then turned so we would be sure to hear him as he said, "government shutdown. Ha ha ha." I'm not sure if he expected some response but we just smiled and diverted our eyes. I had the impression that he thought he was making fun of us but I couldn't be certain. Oh, to be fluent in a thousand languages. It was quite bizarre.<br />
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We finally made it inside the Armoury and kept our distance from the Russian comedians. The Armoury contains a dizzying collection of more than four thousand items. There's everything from armor and weapons to crowns and jewels. I found the room with imperial horse-drawn carriages the most interesting. You could truly spend an entire day perusing all of the collections in the Armoury. It was very impressive.<br />
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The day had gone by in a blur; we'd seen and done so much in a short amount of time. The only thing left was our final dinner in Moscow.<br />
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My husband is always tasked with finding restaurants during our travels. He's usually pretty spot-on and has a knack for finding hip places off-the-beaten path, with interesting menus. Ragout is located just outside the Presnya neighborhood. Reservations are a must. The vibe was young and cool, but also comfortable. The restaurant was filled with bustling activity and the sound of buoyant conversation and laughter. We were shown to our table right away and attended to by an engaging waiter with excellent English. An Israeli chef keeps the menu interesting and fun. I had delicious hummus as an appetizer. When it was time for dessert I went out on a limb and chose beet ice cream. It was surprisingly tasty!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJkfv8lMnrwdnPbVQQH5P0kgHDeUEVIuimLk13_MrZIB0bKIv5wbX6bX-vwO5M5Bceje2-BVfDx3eS9ExdO58SsIbI0zXZnUk6NC-JmlotvKh7cdLyQQGlNNujWQtPGfxR4gZD41KZHqh/s1600/210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJkfv8lMnrwdnPbVQQH5P0kgHDeUEVIuimLk13_MrZIB0bKIv5wbX6bX-vwO5M5Bceje2-BVfDx3eS9ExdO58SsIbI0zXZnUk6NC-JmlotvKh7cdLyQQGlNNujWQtPGfxR4gZD41KZHqh/s200/210.JPG" width="150" /></a>We decided to take a long stroll back to our hotel. There was a lot going on in Moscow that night. Metal detectors and security guards were posted all over the grounds outside the Kremlin. We had to go through several checkpoints, emptying our pockets and having our bags checked. There was a military convoy surrounding a building but upon closer inspection we saw wires hanging above and it looked as if they might have been filming something. While we didn't know what was happening or why, it was exciting to wander through the maze of people enjoying the sights and sounds of Moscow at night.<br />
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I would return to Moscow in a heartbeat. There is still a lot left to see and do in this vibrant city. People are standoffish but friendly, going out to dinner is a truly wonderful experience, and seeing St. Basil's Cathedral in person is astounding.<br />
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I admit that some of the buildings are austere and cold. It sometimes seems as if there couldn't possibly be people living and breathing inside these places. Driving into Moscow from the airport isn't exactly pleasing. Apartments don't look particularly inviting or homey under dreary skies and clouds of pollution. I am also aware that we visited but one place in Russia, a staggeringly huge country. What's more, we were in a city, not the vast Siberia that stretches beyond the walls of the Kremlin.<br />
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But in Moscow, people are dining out, going on dates, strolling through parks, and shopping in malls. There may be security guards and metal detectors at the entrances of buildings but everyone walks through and goes about their daily lives. By the end of our stay, I couldn't help but feel that the shroud of gray I saw covering Moscow on the way in from the airport had lifted. I hope I'm fortunate enough to return to Russia someday.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-14907966310552018022013-11-20T19:42:00.002+01:002013-11-20T19:53:42.266+01:00Visiting Lenin and Having a Drink (and food)Our first full day in Moscow began with a normal (but overpriced) breakfast at the hotel. Then we consulted our city map, donned heavy winter gear, and prepared to scratch off more things on our "To-Do" list. The first thing on the agenda was to visit a well-preserved corpse. You might be familiar with the deceased. He went by the name of Vladimir Lenin.<br />
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We anticipated long lines but it was early in the morning and we only had to wait at the outside gate for a few minutes before passing through to the next checkpoint. We had to surrender all of our bags and the contents of our pockets. Absolutely no cell phones or any type of camera are allowed inside the mausoleum. We went through another set of metal detectors leading into the area around the tomb. Some people were patted down by armed police or military guards.<br />
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The first thing you see are a long line of tombs, Stalin's included. His bust tops a pillar rising up from the ground. His is accompanied by the busts of other important Russians. I confess I didn't recognize many of the names. We passed through the stone graveyard respectfully and wound our way around the granite structure housing the tomb. Several wide steps lead to the entrance where a young military guard stands erect. As we entered, he kept his eyes forward and gestured our next steps with his right hand lifted toward a long hallway. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tomb, even though it was a very overcast day. The interior was eerily illuminated with soft, red lighting. At the end of the hallway stood another guard. This time it was his left hand we followed as we rounded the corner. This corridor was shorter and we met with one final guard who stood at the entrance to Lenin's tomb.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lenin's Tomb</i></td></tr>
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I'm not sure how to describe this moment. First, it was extremely quick. We walked around the tomb, joined by a couple of Asian tourists. Since it was just us, the setting was extremely intimate and I almost felt as if I was somehow intruding. For a man who's been on display since 1924, I'd say Lenin is in pretty good shape. It looks like his hands may have shrunk over time and, to be expected, the appearance of his body is very waxy and mannequin-like. He looks to be in peaceful repose, with his hands neatly touching at his waist, his tidy mustache and beard giving a sense that, at any moment, he will open his eyes, sit up, and ask what he's doing in this crypt.<br />
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We took a quick lap around the tomb and then made our way out, guided once again by the guards. It all happened so fast. I think the amount of time, from the moment we left our belongings at the lockers and went through security, to the second we emerged at the gates, took a total of 10-12 minutes. It was certainly surreal. So many thoughts went through my mind. I was impressed by how heavily and respectfully guarded it was, how regal Lenin looks, and then after these thoughts some immaturity surfaced as I shuddered and said to my husband, "Oh my God!! A dead body! We just saw a dead body!!!"<br />
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After I made this astute observation, I took a photo of my husband in front of the tomb (outside of the gates). As I pulled the camera away from my eyes, I noticed two old women who I assume were mother and daughter. The mother looked like she was in her nineties and her daughter seemed to be about twenty years younger. They had just emerged from the tomb and were holding onto each other, crying softly and wiping tears from their eyes. In that moment I remembered that a visit to Lenin's tomb is much more than a thing to cross of a "To-Do" list for some. Obviously these were Russian women who came to solemnly pay their respects to Lenin. Who knows what they've experienced in their long lives, during the past ninety years of Russian history? Whatever it has been, they wanted to visit Lenin and weep over his earthly remains.<br />
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I was sobered by their tears. There wasn't really too much left to say after the whole experience so we did the only thing you can do when you feel too sober; we found a bar.<br />
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Che is a bar and restaurant named in honor of Che Guevara. We located it quickly and were greeted by a distinguished man in a dark grey suit. When we spoke English, he looked very taken aback and a female hostess emerged, recovering for him. As we followed her into the dining room, I glanced back and saw him still standing in the doorway, motionless, with his arms half-raised.<br />
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In general, in restaurants and cafes, at least one person spoke English. Most of the time it was halting but they seemed genuinely curious about us. We were asked many times, by incredulous people, "Where do you come from?" Sometimes it wasn't immediately clear to them that we were American. They thought we were British or Australian so it was even more shocking to them when we replied, "Chicago and Florida."<br />
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We were given menus (in Cyrillic) so we just ordered two beers. We think they were Russian beers but we can't be sure. They were brought to us hastily, large steins filled with frothy deliciousness. We were the only patrons for a while. The staff gathered at the bar at one point and stole clandestine looks at us. It was apparent that they were curious and amused. I wanted to explain, "We're having beers at 11am because we just saw Lenin! His dead body!" But I didn't really know if this would go over very well. Eventually a businessman joined us in the restaurant. He was immaculately-dressed and was promptly served soup and bread. He ate his food methodically while watching a Discovery Channel show dubbed in Russian, projected on a big screen at the head of the bar.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tomb of the Unknown Soldier</i></td></tr>
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Eventually we paid and rejoined the world of the living. We were just in time for the Changing of the Guard, so we gathered with the crowd forming in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Soon a clock began to chime the hour and we heard the steady clomping of soldiers' shoes marching toward us. The soldiers performed the ceremony with the Eternal Flame burning steadily behind them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Eternal Flame</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Changing of the Guard</i></td></tr>
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Next, we strolled through the Bolshoi District which wasn't quite what we expected. Walking through the streets was interesting. There were throngs of people but it was very quiet. The people we passed didn't betray any emotions, their eyes gazed forward as they purposefully strode toward their destinations. Another thing that makes walking through Moscow interesting is the amount of armed guards. Sentries casually brandishing machine guns stood outside innocuous-looking buildings frequently. It was quite shocking to suddenly come upon street barricades and military police but it happened often. Of course the Muscovites took no notice of the security because they are accustomed to it and probably comforted by it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Delicatessen Restaurant</i></td></tr>
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After our exploration of the Bolshoi District, we set off to find a well-hidden restaurant. It's called Delicatessen and the journey to reach it was long and cold. One must step off a main street into what looks like an alley. The alley leads to a courtyard and the restaurant still proves difficult to find once the secluded courtyard is reached. If you walk straight, you'll go too far. You must return to the entrance of the courtyard, veer a hard left, and then wind your way around the corner. At last, a funky little building emerges with a gracious sign above the entrance that reads, "Thank you for finding us."<br />
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It was a bustling place on a cold October afternoon. We passed the beautiful antique bar and were seated at a wooden table in the back portion of the restaurant. A waitress came to take our drink order and asked simply if we would like hot or cold. We chose cold and were brought two glasses of fruit juice. She then returned for our food order and asked if we would like lunch or the menu. We were a little confused so we replied, "Lunch?" She swiftly walked away and returned a few minutes later with bowls of steaming homemade chicken noodle soup paired with soft, chewy bread. The bowls were cleared away as soon as we slurped the last bits of soup from them. The next course was some type of rice with seafood, almost like a paella. Finally, we were served a dessert that resembled a pound cake in texture and taste, with little bits of candied apricot baked throughout. We decided to finish with some vodka (we were in Russia, after all), and we were in luck because Delicatessen serves some interesting infused vodkas. I chose cherry-flavored while my husband went with pine nut.<br />
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The walk back to our hotel was also long and cold. We put up our feet for a while before we made our way back out into the frigid evening for dinner. We were looking for a particular restaurant and after searching for several minutes on the correct street, we finally realized that our intended destination had been replaced by another dining establishment, The Blue Cat. We didn't have anywhere else in mind so we decided to settle there for the evening. It turned out to be a very good choice.<br />
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The atmosphere inside was bright and intimate. Only two other couples joined us as we dined decadently on fish, steak, and rabbit. The French wine was excellent and the service was great. My husband's dessert was the piece-de-resistance- a chocolate lava cake bursting with a bleu cheese concoction, a dish he describes as "insanely good."<br />
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Dining at The Blue Cat was one of those happy cases where you didn't find quite what you were looking for, but you're pleasantly surprised and extremely satisfied by the place you ended up anyway.<br />
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Next on the agenda is our grand tour of the Kremlin. It was a fun and informative way to spend our final day in Moscow, especially since a visiting royal from another county made a surprise appearance!<br />
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Until next time, spasiba for reading!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lenin's Tomb at Night</i></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-64199041516715421382013-11-08T13:01:00.001+01:002013-11-08T13:01:13.707+01:00Lasting First Impressions: MoscowThe process for an American to travel to Russia is an extensive one. We had to part with our passports for about a month, wait on visas and letters of invitation, and brush up on our Cyrillic (ha ha). For us, this was a trip of a lifetime. I didn't know what to expect and I suppose I had some preconceptions about Russia, gleaned from stereotypical films and books. I imagined vast and snowy Siberian landscapes, vodka-fueled citizens buttoning up their coats against frigid temperatures, and lots of sturdy men who may or may not be members of the mafia.<br />
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We visited Moscow, an undeniably modern city where fashionable me and women commute to work on the efficient metro, cafes and restaurants are filled with customers, and children amble happily alongside their doting babushkas. I felt more than a little ridiculous for my initial concerns about what I would see on the streets of Moscow. Clearly, it's a city like many others, filled with normal people doing normal things.<br />
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With that said, I wouldn't exactly describe the ambience as decidedly cheerful. It was early October when we visited and the temperatures were almost below freezing. Many vehicles were already equipped with heavy-duty snow tires and I recall seeing the sun for only a few short hours throughout our 4-day stay.<br />
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During our hour-and-a-half ride from the airport to the hotel at rush hour, many of the apartment buildings on the outskirts of Moscow were a little depressing. Often, huge modern skyscrapers loomed over the bleak, colorless lodgings. Hopeful boxes were attached to some of the windows, eagerly awaiting the arrival of sliveres of sunshine to make flowers bloom. But I'm just judging from the outside, of course. I hope the interiors of the homes are bright and happy.<br />
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We finally reached the hotel, thanks to our daring taxi driver who stoically zigzagged through stop-and-go traffic with no discernible lanes. Once we reached the heart of the city we had a few narrow misses with large construction trucks and elderly women bravely crossing streets, stooped over their canes and dressed for the possibility of an unexpected blizzard. I really thought we were going to take one of them out; luckily the driver swerved at the last minute. I got the feeling that all of this was just a normal day's work for him.<br />
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We stayed at the Mercure Hotel close to the Arbat, one of the Moscow's oldest-surviving streets. After checking in and freshening up, we headed off to dinner. There's a restaurant for any taste you might crave. The amount of sushi places really stood out to me and there were a few chains familiar and welcoming to any American (Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, Hard Rock Cafe, and even a Johnny Rockets). We settled on Akademiya, an unremarkable Moscow chain restaurant. Some of the staff spoke English and I was surprised to see English translations on the menu.<br />
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One thing I always heard about Moscow did prove to be true. Everything is expensive. From hotels and food, to admission fees and souvenirs; prepare to bring a fattened wallet and watch it quickly dwindle.<br />
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Night had fallen by the time we finished our dinner but we had a very important destination in mind before we went back to the hotel. No trip to Moscow is complete without seeing the Kremlin and Red Square. We devoted our final day in Moscow to exploring the sights in-depth but we didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to experience them at night.<br />
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I couldn't stop taking photos. The brick-red of the Kremlin Wall seemed to glow under the lights. It felt like we were the only ones there, aside from stern guards who materialized from the shadows every now and then. Workers were toiling away at preparations for the Sochi Olympics. A grand stage and bleachers had been set against the backdrop of the Kremlin.<br />
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We walked around in silent awe for a few minutes and then found ourselves beholding St. Basil's Cathedral. I've seen photos of it my whole life but it was indescribably breathtaking to be standing in Moscow and seeing it with my very own eyes. The architecture is so unique and I loved the brilliant colors of the domes. It was truly magical at night.<br />
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Our first evening in Moscow was at its end. Though we'd only been in the city a few short hours, it was a lot to digest and I couldn't wait to experience more of Moscow's surprises.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-14739392750503167572013-10-20T18:56:00.001+02:002014-02-20T14:18:09.116+01:00A Sweet Ending in Cochem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The final stop on our long weekend road trip in Germany was Cochem.<br />
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A funny thing happened on the way. Blanche, my overworked GPS, was on her best behavior. We were pleasantly rolling along on major highways when we decided to top off our gas tank. I redirected Blanche to the nearest gas station, which she claimed was less than 5-km from where we were. We pulled off onto an exit for a small village and continued following Blanche, marveling over the beautiful landscape of the town as we passed vineyards and drove alongside a river.<br />
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When we were less than 1.5-km from the gas station, Blanche's voice suddenly went from confident to questioning as she proclaimed, "Drive 500-meters, then <i>board ferry?!"</i> And I'm not kidding; that's exactly the way she said it: "<i>Board ferry?!" </i>Evidently, the gas station was on the other side of the river and even Blanche thought it was odd that we would postpone our road trip for at least 20 minutes in order to board a ferry, ride the ferry, de-board, fill up on gas, and then repeat the process.<br />
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Needless to say, we decided to forego the ferry-boarding and found our way back to the highway (with Blanche's eager assistance).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cochem</i></td></tr>
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Arriving in Cochem was very scenic. We crossed a bridge over the Mosel River, trailed by bicyclists and pedestrians who meandered along languidly. The cafes were filled as revelers clinked wine glasses and laughed gaily. Rising above it all was the imposing and beautiful Cochem Castle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cochem Castle above Vineyards</i></td></tr>
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We found our small guesthouse along a narrow, winding street in the center of town. Cochem was packed with visitors! I can only imagine it was due to the mild, sunny weather and the arrival of Federweiss. We first encountered this wine when we were in Nuremberg. There was a busy little kiosk in the city center and we had to try it since we'd never seen it.<br />
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It was described to us by the winemakers as a very young wine that is still fermenting. You can drink it right away or store it for a couple of weeks, during which time the fermentation process will continue and the wine will gain more alcohol content. It was very refreshing and light, as to be expected. The taste was sweet but more like a sweet fruit juice rather than a sweet wine (like Riesling). We immediately fell in love and bought a half-liter for three Euros. It's the perfect brunch beverage.<br />
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We soon learned we didn't have to be so quick to purchase in Nuremberg; Federweiss was everywhere in Cochem! Little tastes were offered on almost every corner for 50-cents and each one tasted a little different. It was lots of fun sampling and comparing. Federweiss is only around during the autumn harvest so I'm glad we were in the Mosel region (by chance) this time of year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hB0jWcU457WvBTiPT2HkCS61BkiTZM_2G2AzaymLYHQTiNmG-f4ZyI92jgCtv8kWB0bzzg_SqCNL6JTemjW7RQGPzXkqIK495bkXwL_umDw0wKxNkrP7TmCN2DTd31buyGQqjg8JoKEM/s1600/IMG_1864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hB0jWcU457WvBTiPT2HkCS61BkiTZM_2G2AzaymLYHQTiNmG-f4ZyI92jgCtv8kWB0bzzg_SqCNL6JTemjW7RQGPzXkqIK495bkXwL_umDw0wKxNkrP7TmCN2DTd31buyGQqjg8JoKEM/s200/IMG_1864.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Delftware Fireplace</i></td></tr>
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Our next order of business was to visit Cochem Castle. It was built in 1000 A.D. by the Franconian Palatine counts. The castle was destroyed in 1689 by French soldiers and was in ruins for the next 200 years. Then, Louis Ravene, a rich merchant from Berlin, reconstructed Cochem Castle according to its original plans. Today the interior is that of a 19th-century chateau and the castle belongs to the town of Cochem (since 1978).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocdpDoxwVsF-ABGYH07W_4RvdHRgQHBGtAsmB4u-f1XJVm-j5MBXHZibcDkZs8fBl7OmWhss52SDC-zJMFumJbJ2x6bnZXwvvbuWqEPkQh0yfXU_Ria9bPihP-o8K7frEcV3RFWHT59nn/s1600/IMG_1889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocdpDoxwVsF-ABGYH07W_4RvdHRgQHBGtAsmB4u-f1XJVm-j5MBXHZibcDkZs8fBl7OmWhss52SDC-zJMFumJbJ2x6bnZXwvvbuWqEPkQh0yfXU_Ria9bPihP-o8K7frEcV3RFWHT59nn/s200/IMG_1889.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Knights' Hall</i></td></tr>
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A tour of the castle lasts about 45 minutes. It's all in German but we were given an English guidebook to follow. We wandered through grand rooms beginning with the Dining Hall and ending with the Weapons Room. The castle is filled with treasures such as a fireplace decorated by Delftware, 16th-century furniture, and a painting of a Greek goddess.<br />
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My favorite room was the "Room Above the Last Gate." In this room hangs a mermaid chandelier. It's a symbolic figure to keep evil out of the castle. The guide suggested all of us touch the bottom of it for luck. One exits the room via a spiral staircase that winds the wrong way. This was to prevent any aggressors coming up the staircase from using their sword (carried in the right hand) to any great effect.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mermaid Chandelier</i></td></tr>
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Outside we saw the old well, which is 150-ft deep. The Witch's Tower is the final landmark of the tour. The round tower survived the destruction of 1689. There are remnants of red paints beneath one of the windows, leading researchers to believe that the castle in the Middle Ages must have been very colorful. A huge mosaic representing St. Christopher adorns the west side of the main tower.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRC7EYBhxRr-fnWUWKhTdUZlTk-kWM_29ovCIHiWv-OH72AeFijAcyeDNQ-2SCR-G2SVVyG4pxAUlwNf9SJHf7WiHKf5oS5XjdxDXk4OhNwq4pd7eLV0DkfN8qUshckwYb3p9hj5eUi6Q/s1600/IMG_1920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRC7EYBhxRr-fnWUWKhTdUZlTk-kWM_29ovCIHiWv-OH72AeFijAcyeDNQ-2SCR-G2SVVyG4pxAUlwNf9SJHf7WiHKf5oS5XjdxDXk4OhNwq4pd7eLV0DkfN8qUshckwYb3p9hj5eUi6Q/s200/IMG_1920.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Well</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxdlJ0Wg46prHbRF32P5yrTiV_kswJCig-Hnv3vBTdGOJy1HdxvmefA4RQJz4UZxACRHl0Swh1QeOsiP8_DUet10mrMaSX-zMwPEsWHkXUTaGtymC-i2ycD6iBO7thYx3K36D7Na_dqND/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxdlJ0Wg46prHbRF32P5yrTiV_kswJCig-Hnv3vBTdGOJy1HdxvmefA4RQJz4UZxACRHl0Swh1QeOsiP8_DUet10mrMaSX-zMwPEsWHkXUTaGtymC-i2ycD6iBO7thYx3K36D7Na_dqND/s200/IMG_1925.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Witch's Tower</i></td></tr>
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After our tour, we walked back down to the village, passing through vineyards and strolling by half-timbered houses. From our bird's eye view at the castle, we noticed a chair lift in the distance. We found the entrance to the Cochemer Sesselbahn quickly. Having only "skied" once in my life (it's in quotations because my attempt was a complete failure; I'm from Florida!!), I've never been on an actual chair lift. I was a little nervous because the safety bars seemed awfully flimsy and I was the kid who was scared on the ferris wheel at the county fair every year. But I faced my fears and I'm glad I did. The ride was peaceful and we were able to have Federweiss one more time at the cafe at the top!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cochemer Sesselbahn</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cochem Castle from Sesselbahn</i></td></tr>
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Cochem is a delightful little village, definitely worth a stopover if you're ever in the Mosel Valley. If I were you, I'd try to make the trip during the fall season when the leaves are just beginning to turn, the days are becoming shorter, the smell of smoke from cozy fireplaces fills the air, and Federweiss is practically being given away everywhere you turn. Seriously, go for the Federweiss. And visit the castle, too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pIsOJTVQJ33V33_iQXhYxD27sPKZYaibsicynNfiy7OlLRgWXV-wadRyXMMo0ijL3MMKy5NkMGWrYCjZWsyEVCHdvlM5_7M7u62sWp6blAPDrfKImrltPrYA29SqpQ-u33-5DjD-dhsI/s1600/IMG_1964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pIsOJTVQJ33V33_iQXhYxD27sPKZYaibsicynNfiy7OlLRgWXV-wadRyXMMo0ijL3MMKy5NkMGWrYCjZWsyEVCHdvlM5_7M7u62sWp6blAPDrfKImrltPrYA29SqpQ-u33-5DjD-dhsI/s320/IMG_1964.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-51961648397662948612013-10-01T23:33:00.001+02:002013-10-01T23:33:26.128+02:00Wandering in WurzburgA two-hour drive from Nuremberg brought us to Wurzburg. Wurzburg is a lively university town that serves as the beginning (or end) of the Romantic Road. The Main River cuts through the center of the town and lush vineyards dot the hillsides. The Residenz Palace and Marienberg Fortress complete the fairy-tale backdrop.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsH7vCq3yNuhh2VbSF1dtgvWYP1SJPE4m5HAIjDM56trxA-Hc6sdSuGzuyaYWnMr9eOsWkZPLOviSCF9AtJ8VntHAhRiFbZ4jqX7kbi-OTh9VC5tivuItfSeYWi9N-WQq9EzBV5zs30By/s1600/IMG_1722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHsH7vCq3yNuhh2VbSF1dtgvWYP1SJPE4m5HAIjDM56trxA-Hc6sdSuGzuyaYWnMr9eOsWkZPLOviSCF9AtJ8VntHAhRiFbZ4jqX7kbi-OTh9VC5tivuItfSeYWi9N-WQq9EzBV5zs30By/s200/IMG_1722.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dom St. Killian</i></td></tr>
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After checking in to our bed and breakfast, we used the efficient tram system to reach the center of town. Two landmarks that tower over Wurzburg are the Dom St. Killian and St. Mary's Church. Dom St. Killian is the fourth-largest Romanesque church in Germany. It was rebuilt after a fire destroyed it during the war in 1945. Exterior reconstruction was carried out according to the original.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtZQrmpXposOGa7ZSCozfxgfqTSjvccpgWu1PnzydK1e1wKzcBI-1HSI4PmZfXWCHBLipq9huOYHP002QVLeCNfxHICEAgLBuOpMt67st0fHqzbr3J41uyzRK2bt7g_iyfwRo5sIaEIji/s1600/IMG_1714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtZQrmpXposOGa7ZSCozfxgfqTSjvccpgWu1PnzydK1e1wKzcBI-1HSI4PmZfXWCHBLipq9huOYHP002QVLeCNfxHICEAgLBuOpMt67st0fHqzbr3J41uyzRK2bt7g_iyfwRo5sIaEIji/s200/IMG_1714.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St. Mary's Church</i></td></tr>
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I thought St. Mary's Church was really unique due to its red-and-white exterior and Gothic-style. It was built in the 14th and 15th centuries by the citizens of Wurzburg. It holds a prime position on the Marktplatz, the city's liveliest square.<br />
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After a brief overview of Wurzburg we decided to quell our hunger pangs with a dinner at Ratskeller Wurzburg. The offering was typically German: bratwurst, sauerkraut, potatoes. The shining star of the meal was the extensive wine list. I settled on a Rotling, wine made from a blend of red and white grapes. It was similar in color to a Rose with a perfect balance of sweet and dry. I quickly consumed two glasses and left the restaurant with a hankering for more.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuMwY-fk_Mj63a1fR5vIQDVL6sEMYWngh3UKz29E2MQ1vph0qFh_2LSFivLJSvSa7KZDiIYGyMXTi4r3Z2hJxKkdTHBSyowhh6cBFONdPQqoY0sh_yHn_8xoK1a7cq42tuapDx56gMITp/s1600/IMG_1738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuMwY-fk_Mj63a1fR5vIQDVL6sEMYWngh3UKz29E2MQ1vph0qFh_2LSFivLJSvSa7KZDiIYGyMXTi4r3Z2hJxKkdTHBSyowhh6cBFONdPQqoY0sh_yHn_8xoK1a7cq42tuapDx56gMITp/s200/IMG_1738.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>An Appropriate Amount of Rotling<br />for 2.</i></td></tr>
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I was in luck. We began a romantic stroll across the Old Main Bridge and noticed lots of people gathered around the center. As we moved closer, we realized they were in line outside of a restaurant. A young woman stood at a window, patiently filling wine glasses as a never-ending queue waited to sip their libations. We promptly got in line and decided we'd better order two glasses each because we didn't want to have to wait in the line again.<br />
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Armed with our four glasses of Rotling, we staked out a spot at the center of the bridge. The atmosphere surrounding us was jovial. We talked and laughed, enjoying the sounds of all of the other laughter and conversation even though it was all in German. The Main River flowed swiftly below us while the Marienberg Fortress towered over Wurzburg.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Marienberg Fortress over Wurzburg</i></td></tr>
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The next day we were in a time-crunch again. We had to choose between the Residenz palace and the fortress. We decided on the fortress. Climbing to its perch over the town gave us the opportunity to burn off all of our Rotling calories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Marienberg Fortress</i></td></tr>
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Marienberg Fortress is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Beginning in 1250, it was the seat of the Wurzburg bishops. They enlarged the medieval castle, transforming it initially into a fortified Renaissance palace and finally into a baroque fortress.<br />
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Vineyards surround the huge complex of buildings, including an 8th-century church (St. Mary's Church-- not to be confused with St. Mary's Chapel inside Wurzburg). St. Mary's Church is one of the oldest in Germany.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St. Mary's Church</i></td></tr>
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I was most impressed by the Princes' Garden, which probably dates back to the early 16th century. Flanked by beautiful balustrades and balconies, it's one of the most picturesque gardens I've ever seen. The flower designs were colorful and ornate and the views of the city were amazing. Wurzburg looked like a perfect, miniature German town from that height.<br />
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Our time was up far too soon. I would definitely return, driving the length of the Romantic Road to wonderful Wurzburg.<br />
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Sometimes all it takes to make a city is a stroll in a beautiful garden. And a wine bar on a bridge.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-53771171930716985562013-10-01T13:54:00.002+02:002013-10-01T13:54:32.170+02:00"The Most German of All Cities"We've finally made it to the Bavarian portion of Germany! Last week we took a long road trip that brought us to Nuremberg. It was a whirlwind visit because we had only a day-and-a-half but we made the most of it.<br />
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When I hear Nuremberg, the first thing that comes to mind are the Nuremberg Trials. Adolf Hitler called Nuremberg "the most German of all cities." While much of our trip centered around the history of the rise of the Nazi party, we found that there is much more to see in this modern metropolis.</div>
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Our arrival late in the afternoon allowed for a quick stroll through the Old Town as we made our way to the Bratwurst-Hausle for an early dinner. This most famous bratwurst house in the city has been grilling Nurnberger Rostbratwurst since 1313. The wurst was perfection and the accompanying sauerkraut was the best I've had! Wash it all down with a few Tucher Hefeweizens on draft and I'd say that's a pretty tasty German dinner.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Beautiful Fountain</i></td></tr>
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Rising up 62 feet in the main square is the Beautiful Fountain. It was built between 1389 and 1396. Its intricate design boasts forty stone figures and a couple of lucky charms. There are two rings on opposite sides of the fountain. The most noticeable one is "for the tourists" and the other, more difficult to find, is for the locals. Make a wish, rotate the ring three full turns, and your wish will come true. Here's the catch: some sources say turning the ring will make you lucky in love while others warn that if a woman turns the ring she will become pregnant. I'm not sure what will happen in our case because we were greedy and we each turned both rings three times. Between us, we are either going to be very lucky in love or very pregnant. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kaiserburg</i></td></tr>
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After sealing our fates (whatever they may be), we headed for the Kaiserburg (Imperial Castle) looming grandly above the city. It is one of the most important imperial palaces of the Middle Ages. A Salian royal castle was built on the spot as early as the 11th century. The Kaiserburg was the official residence of the German kings and emperors from 1050 to 1571. It's a very easy walk to the terraces and you are rewarded with a fantastic view of Nuremberg's skyline.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nuremberg at Night</i></td></tr>
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The next morning we were excited to see Nuremberg in the daylight. We made our way back to the main square, to the Church of St. Lawrence. Construction began in 1270 and lasted for more than 200 years. It's a beautiful Gothic church with soaring pillars and magnificent stained-glass.<br />
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We decided to wait around until noon for a little show that happens every day at the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady). A gilded 16th-century mechanical clock called Little Men Running performs every day at 12pm. When the clock tolls, figures of the seven Electors appear and pay homage to Emperor Karl IV. It was a charming sight to see and we were among about 50 other people gathered to watch.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Frauenkirche</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Little Men Running</i></td></tr>
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We didn't have much time left in Nuremberg before our road trip continued so we moved from sweet to sobering as we drove over to the Dokumentationszentrum Reichsparteitagsgelande - the Nazi Party Rally Grounds Documentation Center. A visit to Nuremberg is incomplete without at least an afternoon, and possibly a full day, spent immersed in a chronological overview of the rise of Nazism. </div>
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It's impossible to convey how much information is displayed within the Center, housed in the unfinished remains of the Congress Hall. The permanent exhibition is appropriately named "Fascination and Terror." Everything is written in German but the audio guides are wonderfully informative as you move from room to room, passing images of smitten teenage girls fawning over Hitler, haunting photos of atrocities at concentration camps, and films showcasing construction of the massive Rally Grounds in Nuremberg. The size of the complex is mind-blowing. Aerial photos are almost unreal.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Panoramic of Unfinished Congress</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Luitpold Grove Park</i></td></tr>
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We spent almost 3 hours in stunned silence inside the Center. Afterward, we walked across the street to Luitpold Grove Park. The City of Nuremberg erected a monument in the park during the Weimar Republic (1919-33). The monument was intended to commemorate the 9,855 Nuremberg soldiers killed during WWI. During the 1929 Party Rally, the Nazis incorporated the then-unfinished Hall of Honor in their staging of the cult of the dead. Hitler commemorated the fallen soldiers of WWI and the "Martyrs of the NS Movement." The ritual was intended to commit the "party soldiers" present to sacrificing their lives for the "Fuhrer" and for National Socialism. In 1933, Hitler had the park remodeled into the Luitpold Arena for the Party Rallies.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ehrenhalle - Hall of Honor Now</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ehrenhalle Then</i></td></tr>
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After 1945, Nuremberg turned the area back into a park. Today the Hall of Honor commemorates the victims of WWI and WWII, as well as the victims of the National Socialist rule of terror.</div>
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As we drove away from Nuremberg, my husband commented that he was glad we saw the city the way we did: initially our view was untainted, just another German town with a castle and some interesting churches - then, as the stark base of Hitler's rise to power.</div>
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In the end, I think Nuremberg has done a great deal to pay homage to the victims of Hitler's reign. His 'glorious' complex hovers unfinished in a time past but not forgotten, incomplete but still standing to serve as a constant reminder of the unimaginable.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-70219174726432757652013-09-01T13:27:00.001+02:002013-09-01T13:27:45.292+02:00Gilded GhentI hosted a long-awaited visitor last week-- my mom! I've been waiting for her to come to Europe for the past two years, and she's been waiting to cross the big pond for much longer. I gave her a whirlwind tour of some of my favorite places in The Netherlands, Germany, and Belgium. We had a wonderful time and the weather was on its best behavior. I only wish she could have stayed longer but I'm grateful for the time we had together, and for being able to celebrate her birthday with her for the first time in three years!<br />
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Out of all of the cities we visited, the only one I hadn't been to yet was Ghent in Belgium. It seems as if Ghent always comes up in a discussion regarding Bruges. You tell someone, "Oh, I just got back from Bruges! It was lovely!" If they have been to Ghent, their response might be, "Bruges? Well, sure, Bruges is nice but Ghent is where you should really go!"<br />
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I do love Bruges but I'd just visited for the second time a few months ago so I decided to take Mom somewhere neither of us had been. Ghent offered the possibility of new adventures and I was also ready to settle the 'Ghent vs. Bruges' debate once and for all.<br />
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We took the train from Maastricht early one morning. Once we arrived, we hailed a taxi that drove us to our hotel: the Sandton Grand Hotel Reylof. It's one of those artsy/designy/deco-ish places with garish animal-print covered chairs, wacky chandeliers, and color-blocked carpet that has the special power to make you feel dizzy and get you lost in never-ending corridors. It was sort of like being on the set of <i>Beetlejuice</i>. I loved it. The price was right (for a Monday night) and the location was perfect. All of the staff were kind and the room was large by European standards. I think the fares rise significantly during the weekend but if you find yourself in Ghent during an off-day, it's a great choice.<br />
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After we checked in to the hotel, we set off to find out what makes Ghent so special (and more special than Bruges, according to some). Our first view of Ghent, from St. Michael's Bridge, wasn't disappointing.<br />
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After a quick lunch of Flemish beef stew, we decided to visit Gravensteen Castle, or Castle of the Counts. I was really excited to visit a castle that's still so intact, and right in the center of a bustling city. The foreboding facade made me feel small and vulnerable as we approached. Gravensteen was built in 1180 with all of the amenities necessary in the Middle Ages.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Gravensteen Castle</i></td></tr>
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The <i>MTV Cribs</i> episode would go something like this:<br />
"Hi, I'm Count Philip of Alsace. Welcome to my crib. Don't mind the screams from the dungeons- ha ha! To the left is the gatehouse, which also served as a temporary prison. And here's the torture chamber, an obligatory addition to any medieval crib. This is the banquet hall where the countess and me hang out and host parties. And these are the toilets, should the need arise. Do you want to see what's in my fridge or would you rather tour the underground prison first?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Master Bathroom</i></td></tr>
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I really enjoyed the views of Ghent from the battlements of Gravensteen. It was easy to imagine myself back in the Middle Ages, knights and maidens wandering around the endless corridors. The size of the castle was what really struck me the most. It was obviously a very powerful stronghold in its time. </div>
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After our time travel, we strolled through the Patershol quarter, an important area of the city during the Middle Ages that has experienced a renaissance during the past 30 years. It's a lovely, quiet district that is now mainly residential and boasts a few Michelin-starred restaurants.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpum60QCt6CyUFzDkd7CYvi523OoOJJyHf9KmzXPo6ikS_y8pCvf2BQfSGnM_vPzYtQennvml2DMdaRsmXDgEz70sZ4zM9AnSaSxF2CGhzQ8iMCw5Wtyszq5QD0nwZig2t3PB64bc9y_qc/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpum60QCt6CyUFzDkd7CYvi523OoOJJyHf9KmzXPo6ikS_y8pCvf2BQfSGnM_vPzYtQennvml2DMdaRsmXDgEz70sZ4zM9AnSaSxF2CGhzQ8iMCw5Wtyszq5QD0nwZig2t3PB64bc9y_qc/s200/138.JPG" width="200" /></a>Back in the city center, the Castle of Gerald the Devil is a must-see for architecture aficionados. It was constructed in the 13th century by a villain named Gerald. He was called "the devil" because of his dark appearance. The castle has worn many hats over the centuries. It's been a knights' residence, monastery, orphanage, school, fire station, and madhouse-- and that's just to name a few. Today, the Castle of Gerald the Devil is home to the State Archives. </div>
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We also visited Saint Bavo's Cathedral. It dates back to the Chapel of Saint John the Baptist in 942. The church underwent rebuilding during the 14th to 16th centuries. What we see today is very close to the way it looked in the mid-16th century. Restoration of the tower began this past May. It's projected to take five years. It was a little disappointing that the facade was covered in scaffolding but I suppose centuries-old cathedrals need some serious repairs every few decades.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saint Bavo's Cathedral</i></td></tr>
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The major draw for tourists to Saint Bravo's Cathedral is housed in a tiny chapel off to the side. The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb is an altarpiece painted in 1432 by the famous Van Eyck brothers. Jan van Eyck is considered one of the best Northern European painters of the 15th century. He paired up with his older brother, Hubert, to create the masterpiece some regard as the first great oil painting. We paid a few Euros to see the painting in all its glory. The altarpiece dominated the tiny chapel and throngs of hushed tourists gazed upon it in awed silence. It's all original, except for the 'Just Judges' panel that was stolen in 1934. NPR has a very good article regarding the piece: <a href="http://www.npr.org/2010/12/25/132283848/is-this-the-worlds-most-coveted-painting" target="_blank">Is This the World's Most Coveted Painting?</a> </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Van Eyck Bros. Monument</i></td></tr>
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We visited the Design Museum the next morning before we left for Brussels. It mainly offers 20th century and modern-day exhibitions. The focus is on furniture and home accessories. I think it's probably a young design student's dream. Everything from porcelain and china to vases and chandeliers are displayed in the airy interior of the museum. It's nothing you would expect to see housed inside an 18th century building. My favorite collection was in the basement, an exhibition of sheet music illustrated by Peter de Greef. He was a Belgian designer of musical scores between the 1920's and 50's. </div>
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I thought Ghent was lovely. I don't really know a way to compare or contrast it with Bruges. It's more fun and interesting to visit a new place without having expectations or opinions about it based upon somewhere else. Both cites are charming and picturesque in their own ways.</div>
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I think, if you're in the position to be judging Bruges and Ghent against each other, you are a very fortunate person because you've been able to walk along the canal-lined streets of both beautiful cities. Savor it, world traveler. You're luckier than most.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-45347778374655922842013-08-07T12:30:00.001+02:002013-08-07T12:30:18.403+02:00A Toast (Skal) to Copenhagen!<div style="text-align: right;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBD8-pOp32tuJwOL_z84nI3rSRFeuNPUnr3DX2JpdNIaKhjKqYBn5_K_WxuqEJMEmFPMduZSpwZNb9ndikaBDA0m8MMejvZdqIVZoZxZFSkjC5hbsWFa3wVTHSF79dXM8WrinypON6XJ8/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBD8-pOp32tuJwOL_z84nI3rSRFeuNPUnr3DX2JpdNIaKhjKqYBn5_K_WxuqEJMEmFPMduZSpwZNb9ndikaBDA0m8MMejvZdqIVZoZxZFSkjC5hbsWFa3wVTHSF79dXM8WrinypON6XJ8/s200/039.JPG" width="200" /></a>The last full day in Copenhagen was a whirlwind. We decided to go to the Danish Postal Museum first. On display is everything from the "Ordinance concerning Postmen," signed in 1624, to a room filled with the first cell phones. I saw my old Motorola StarTAC, so that was very nostalgic. We didn't spend too long in the museum because our primary destination was Cafe Hovedtelegrafen on the top of the building. The view of Copenhagen was spectacular, and one of the best parts about the Postal Museum is that it's free! If I had children, I'm sure I would have lingered because of the kid-friendly exhibits and atmosphere. It isn't a must-do, but if you want a bird's-eye view of the city for only the price of a coffee or tea, put the Postal Museum on your list.<br />
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Next we took a walk around the palace complex. Amalienborg Palace was built in the 1700's. The grounds consist of four identical buildings surrounding a courtyard. It is the Queen's main residence, but we didn't see the flag raised so I guess she was Queening elsewhere the day we visited. The grounds were overflowing with tourists and we decided against going inside so we could fulfill other places on our "To-See" list.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Palace</i></td></tr>
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We wandered over to Nyhavn, a picturesque canal district dating back to 1681. The oldest house in the area is in Nyhavn and it's also where Hans Christian Andersen lived (in several different houses). It's simple to see how he would choose Nyhavn as his residence; who wouldn't be inspired by the colorful facades reflecting in the harbor? As you'd imagine, the streets here were also packed with tourists but I think Nyhavn is what I imagined when I thought of Copenhagen. It was truly beautiful and easy to see what it must have been like hundreds of years ago, even if it is a bit commercial now.<br />
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Speaking of Hans, it's time to see Copenhagen's most famous tourist attraction: The Little Mermaid. I think we all know the story of The Little Mermaid but contrary to popular belief, Walt Disney is not the author. On a side note -- Anton told me that can be one of the most annoying things about tourists in Copenhagen, especially American tourists: the fact that some of them think The Little Mermaid didn't exist until an orange-haired Ariel lit up the big screen. I'm just relaying this so you don't make that faux-pas if you ever find yourself in Copenhagen speaking to an actual Danish person.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0jIawQLPcNyXZikTgzgbyT4lqAafxdNig9lM0BvLsrVDSfhvkz_C_vh_yEdZYTnUMJOP8jyKO_m5i-8WXFyNLFBzaD5xtDkvNho_iC6gcDlCAHCQ9zqt4l2G_YRi0ZEVmXcukY1P1RCg/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0jIawQLPcNyXZikTgzgbyT4lqAafxdNig9lM0BvLsrVDSfhvkz_C_vh_yEdZYTnUMJOP8jyKO_m5i-8WXFyNLFBzaD5xtDkvNho_iC6gcDlCAHCQ9zqt4l2G_YRi0ZEVmXcukY1P1RCg/s200/138.JPG" width="200" /></a>"The Little Mermaid" was first published in 1837 but the famous statue wasn't unveiled until 1913. It was a gift to the City of Copenhagen by one Carl Jacobsen. Carl's father was J.C. Jacobson and you might recognize him as the founder of the Carlsberg brewery. Carl fell in love with the mermaid after watching a ballet performance of the fairy tale. The sculpture was inspired by Ellen Price, the mermaid ballerina. Over the years, The Little Mermaid has been the victim of vandals. She's been covered in paint, decapitated twice, and someone sawed off her arm once but still she faithfully sits on the shore, waiting for her prince to come. Incidentally, August 23, 2013 marked the 100-year anniversary for The Little Mermaid sculpture.<br />
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My sister had already warned me to have reasonable expectations. When it's is a "must-see" and built up the level of mystique that something like The Little Mermaid enjoys, you automatically expect it to be a grand apparition, larger-than-life, the climax of your sightseeing. Well, it was small. Charming, but small. The only massive objects at the site were all of the gigantic tour buses parked alongside. It seemed as if hundreds of people were clamoring to get a photo with her and I'm sure all she wanted to do was swim back to sea because her prince will obviously not be armed with a humongous, flashing camera and a fanny pack. So, be sure to see The Little Mermaid in Copenhagen but please don't jump all over her. She is a lady, after all.<br />
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Copenhagen's National Museum is high on the list of one of my favorite museums! It's another free attraction and nothing is better than that in a city as expensive as Copenhagen. The Danish prehistory exhibitions are incredibly thought-provoking and mesmerizing. One could certainly spend several pleasant hours poring through the artifacts that include coins, cauldrons, and tombs.<br />
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For me, the most interesting displays are the "bog bodies." More than a thousand bodies have been discovered in Denmark. Lack of oxygen and anti-microbial properties in peat moss have preserved the bodies so well that they have discernible facial features, hair, nails, and sometimes even the clothing in which they were buried. I was haunted by the body of a little girl with a shock of blonde hair. It was fascinating. Don't leave Copenhagen without visiting the National Museum!<br />
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I mentioned Ruby Cocktail Bar in my last entry. It's on the list of "World's Best Bars," along with the one I preferred in Copenhagen: The Library Bar. The bar is located inside The Copenhagen Plaza Hotel. The hotel was originally opened in 1914 and the bar followed a few decades later, in the 70's. The wood-paneled walls are complemented by plush leather sofas, thick carpets, and oil paintings. It feels as if you've stumbled into a private gentleman's parlor. A smoking ban in 2007 forced the bar to abandon its cigars and humidor but I think the faint whiff of sweet smoke still lingers. Champagne cocktails are the specialty and I ordered -- what else -- the Plaza Champagne Cocktail. It's a potent combination of dark rum, champagne, and ginger ale. The prices are still exorbitant but I definitely got more bang for my buck at The Library Bar as opposed to Ruby. If you're pressed for time but still want a unique cocktail experience in Copenhagen, my recommendation is to peruse the top shelves at The Library.<br />
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Later, one of Anton's friends offered us a canal tour on his boat. I must admit that it was nice to have a privately-arranged tour on a small boat. We sipped Carlsbergs as our host and Anton regaled us with stories about their city. We saw a military ship and submarine, learned about the new development along the water that has been cropping up for the past 10 years, and even caught a glimpse of Christiania. The tour was lots of fun; I only wish I had friends who have friends in every city I visit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Military Ship</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGKutuXJ7_tr7F-Tcm46_R6YuLk889wTggx-GnoR9dJCaYY5x0gwSejFRSFO2TXgqwqvcnlc-TBeGGdeBeqZnVf9D80woC5hfjZ1FRpB3mc0VriZ9isTfBU72tR7mf8lLLKAP1Fy9k_bN/s1600/157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGKutuXJ7_tr7F-Tcm46_R6YuLk889wTggx-GnoR9dJCaYY5x0gwSejFRSFO2TXgqwqvcnlc-TBeGGdeBeqZnVf9D80woC5hfjZ1FRpB3mc0VriZ9isTfBU72tR7mf8lLLKAP1Fy9k_bN/s200/157.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Submarine</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christiania Boat</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07T15_OVL5t2FE1BN7I__T9QmsqWSjUnRp5aUY9MX7skJnZ6VFxYFv1JBSR2etf-VFBzypJSvPRJkeaGMs0fKyrvQ_zo3O6I0e6D7OhnGI9MZ7nnDnA8hop_kqSc6tCtEPqE7cdx7e8mP/s1600/163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07T15_OVL5t2FE1BN7I__T9QmsqWSjUnRp5aUY9MX7skJnZ6VFxYFv1JBSR2etf-VFBzypJSvPRJkeaGMs0fKyrvQ_zo3O6I0e6D7OhnGI9MZ7nnDnA8hop_kqSc6tCtEPqE7cdx7e8mP/s200/163.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christiania House</i></td></tr>
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After a nice dinner back at the apartment, we set off for our real tour of Christiania. Originally, my sister and me were just going to go on our own but then Anton and another friend offered to escort us into the settlement after sunset. I didn't really know what to expect. I'm sure I'd heard of Christiania before I visited Copenhagen, but I couldn't really remember anything about it other than the whole drug-selling business.<br />
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We passed a hand-painted sign and suddenly there we were, in a place unlike any I've ever seen. Freetown Christiania is a community built around former military barracks and parts of the city ramparts. It was taken over in September of 1971 after the military had moved out of the area. Inhabitants in the surrounding neighborhood broke down the fences to turn the green space into a playground for their children.<br />
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The homes in Christiania aren't built by architects; they are constructed by the people who live in them. This makes a Tour of Homes very interesting because they are all different and each has its own unique personality. The citizens pay the Danish state for water and electricity and rent is paid to the community. In fact, Christiania has its own currency, the Lon. The Danish Krone is still accepted but the locals are paid in Lons.<br />
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I could go on and on about Christiania and its philosophy. You can read dozens of articles about the alternative society but I think I'll leave all of that off and just give my personal impressions of this strange and hypnotizing place.<br />
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We entered the community via Pusher Street. It's well-known that photography is prohibited because of cannabis dealers and gang activity. Pushers' dogs wander around the street and Anton told a terrifying story of how a dog once followed he and his friend all the way out of Christiania, and for several minutes afterward. The air was perfumed with the scent of patchouli and cannabis. I did notice several "shifty" people but they were minding their own business, whatever business that might have been.<br />
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I'm glad we were with Anton because I never would have been able to find my way around the wooded paths and darkened crannies. Away from Pusher Street, things were pretty sedate. Every once in a while we would come upon a small group of people smoking and talking quietly and then a few steps later, we'd walk past a family carrying groceries into their whimsical house. In the darkness it really looked like a normal neighborhood... if every night was Halloween.<br />
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The concept of Christiania is intriguing. I definitely don't think there is another place like it. It seems that the gang activity is centered mainly around Pusher Street and the rest of the community is pretty normal. I was uneasy when we walked through Pusher Street but I don't think there was any real reason to be. Christiania is one of Denmark's most popular tourist destinations so I wasn't the only wide-eyed wanderer gawking at the graffiti and studiously avoiding eye contact with Pushers and their dogs. I never felt threatened and no one approached me. Admittedly, I felt more secure because we had Anton and his friend, but I think I would have felt comfortable walking through with just my sister and me during the daytime.<br />
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I suppose it depends upon what you personally find interesting, but I'm glad I saw Christiania because it's so unique and surreal.<br />
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Though I was initially dumbfounded by the cost of Copenhagen, I soon realized that it's a city full of many charms and some of the best are complimentary. From Hans Christian Andersen's haunts to magical Tivoli, and from Bog People to Pushers with dreadlocks, it was an unforgettable experience.<br />
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I'll leave you with a bit of practical advice. I was reading a "Top 10 of Copenhagen" guidebook before I arrived. One of the 'tips' was how to toast. The Danish 'cheers' is 'skal.' It's a toast to goodwill and friendship. Skal dates back to the Vikings who drank wine from bowls made of skulls. The guidebook also stated that it's very important to lock eyes with the person you're toasting.<br />
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Armed with this information, I raised my glass at The Library Bar and locked eyes with Anton as I menacingly said (well, <i>thought</i> I said), "Skal!" He looked at me, puzzled, and asked, "What did you say?"<br />
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"I'm doing the ol' Viking toast to you! The guidebook told me I was supposed to look deep into your eyes and now you have to say it back to me," I explained. I couldn't believe I was having to inform Anton of his own country's drinking tradition.<br />
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His expression changed to one of amusement as he said, "Ah! Skal! Yes, that's correct. But you said 'kal,' which means cabbage."<br />
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So let that be a lesson for you. When you toast a Danish person, be sure to put the 's' in front of kal. Otherwise you'll just be gazing intently into a Scandinavian's eyes, proclaiming, "CABBAGE!" And that is weird. And terrifying.<br />
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Skal, Copenhagen!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-90281782336868917332013-07-23T14:36:00.003+02:002013-07-23T14:36:51.213+02:00Graveyards and Gardens: Monday in CopenhagenMy sister is spending part of her summer in Europe and I was very happy and excited for her to visit me in Maastricht for a couple of weeks. She chose a great time to come! I almost don't even want to say this aloud because I'm afraid of jinxing it, but the weather has been perfect lately. Dare I say, it's even HOT here. It's not that the temperatures have soared higher than they do in Florida, but air conditioning is a rare commodity so it makes the heat feel stronger when there's hardly any reprieve. I'm not complaining though; I'd much rather be hot than cold and I'm soaking up the Vitamin D as much as possible because I know the long, sunny days are ephemeral.<br />
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After my sister's two-week stay in Maastricht, she returned to Copenhagen to be with her boyfriend. I decided to tag along for a few days!<br />
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It was a quick (and cheap) plane ride from Eindhoven to Copenhagen. Thank goodness the ticket price was fair because everything else in Copenhagen is extremely expensive! I'm so grateful I was able to benefit from a complimentary stay at someone's apartment rather than having to pay the exorbitant price for a hotel. Even groceries are over-priced in Copenhagen! I was constantly comparing the Danish Krone to the Euro, and then to the U.S. Dollar. It really blew my mind. So my first piece of advice when traveling to Copenhagen: Find a Danish friend and crash at their place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJ8alRQgLUI5lGqKVuY_2LwjgL_hilmBSAPeBEzEWz1FYqtzN6GZq_7B8jdqwLEYOf3FuKMPXp8-jg2HwaF6oPZRik8LtT8YJLBlpTXCDvYNckfuGrSDoNMbSDGaqzKIjTsMOFUUpK8xi/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJ8alRQgLUI5lGqKVuY_2LwjgL_hilmBSAPeBEzEWz1FYqtzN6GZq_7B8jdqwLEYOf3FuKMPXp8-jg2HwaF6oPZRik8LtT8YJLBlpTXCDvYNckfuGrSDoNMbSDGaqzKIjTsMOFUUpK8xi/s200/016.JPG" width="200" /></a>Lots of areas in the city's center are currently under construction or renovation. I didn't find this too surprising because it seems like bulldozers and cranes always pop up in Europe during the summer. I suppose it's the most logical time for that type of work since the weather is (hopefully) a little nicer and more reliable than during fall and winter. My sister's boyfriend did tell me that there are always lots of projects going on in Copenhagen, very frequently lasting years before completion. It certainly keeps people employed, and that's always a good thing.<br />
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We began my Copenhagen tour with Hans Christian Andersen, of course. His final resting site is Assistens Cemetery. It's a beautiful, peaceful place serving not only as a final earthly destination, but also a gathering spot for students, joggers, and young parents with their babies.<br />
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Hans' grave was flanked by literary worshipers so I only took a few snapshots and we moved on to other famous residents.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hans Christian Andersen's Grave</i></td></tr>
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Before my visit to Copenhagen, I had no idea Niels Bohr was Danish. I was never very good at math and science but my 11th grade Chemistry teacher was obsessed with Niels Bohr and his atomic model. I certainly don't remember how to balance a chemical equation but I'll never forget that man's name because it was always the answer to at least one question on each exam. I paid my respects to Niels and wondered whether my teacher had ever made it to his grave. Just in case, I thanked Neils on Mr. Veal's behalf.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Niels Bohr's Grave</i></td></tr>
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Next up was Soren Kierkegaard. He was a Danish philosopher known as the "father of existentialism."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhZ19hzIilJ9RxaI6N4IcwwKwQcNuIs3WxytQ2tYxUZ1hl2OEjFvh3js-ghsNynfV45OMg5NF_KUp3aEmNtX3eHf-uMHgdio0DAm0jNM6BX4p2pRxjDC6iEnvgWHv-LWqIYVj0PA4T4TH/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhZ19hzIilJ9RxaI6N4IcwwKwQcNuIs3WxytQ2tYxUZ1hl2OEjFvh3js-ghsNynfV45OMg5NF_KUp3aEmNtX3eHf-uMHgdio0DAm0jNM6BX4p2pRxjDC6iEnvgWHv-LWqIYVj0PA4T4TH/s200/034.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Soren Kierkegaard's Plot</i></td></tr>
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It was interesting to see resting places of the famous but one of my favorite sights at Assistens Kirkegard was all of the living, breathing people enjoying a serene space in the bustling city. Among the headstones and Hans-seekers, there were sun worshipers, picnickers, and, as previously mentioned, young families.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglH18Ap9ZZg3c4anJMszVFXxt9Vb6-1lXDZiK1ml-qJJ1nTotUjoa5fCDuObRn2HJiGCqJd5peHGKXknVDlbFnlAfJ1i1FMx_Y6HyXIp2QNVL0Vd21DwIY9A0_0kiQ-pFcX19vBlZVK4Xx/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglH18Ap9ZZg3c4anJMszVFXxt9Vb6-1lXDZiK1ml-qJJ1nTotUjoa5fCDuObRn2HJiGCqJd5peHGKXknVDlbFnlAfJ1i1FMx_Y6HyXIp2QNVL0Vd21DwIY9A0_0kiQ-pFcX19vBlZVK4Xx/s200/024.JPG" width="200" /></a>It isn't uncommon to see young mothers gathered to gossip while cradling their babies but I was really surprised to see so many fathers. I supposed the Danish are pretty progressive when it comes to co-parenting. Three dads in particular really stand out to me. They were very trendy, sporting neon sneakers and chic haircuts. They took up the whole pathway, walking side-by-side. We stayed behind them for a while because we were so amused. At one point they came across another hip dad and asked him to take a photograph of all of them. Maybe things like that happen regularly in America but I've never seen it.<br />
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The rest of the day passed quickly and before we knew it the evening was upon us. We went for a pre-dinner drink at Ruby Cocktail Bar. Its location is inside an old apartment building and the bar boasts an affluent neighbor: the Embassy of Georgia. The cocktail list is inventive and the staff are friendly and attentive. I enjoyed the "Jack Sparrow," a concoction of cachaca, Wray, and rum with pineapple and lime juice, and ginger beer. It was delicious-- thank goodness because that one cocktail came with a price tag of $20 USD. Steep!<br />
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Dinner that evening was at Namnam, a Singapore eatery with an imaginative and mostly affordable menu. The restaurant has only been open for a little over a year but it was crowded even on a Monday night.<br />
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An exciting thing happened while we were dining. The table next to us was a group of 8 or 10 people. They were laughing boisterously and having a grand time. At one point we heard one of their party say, "I really miss Georgia!" Even though we were just in close proximity to the Embassy of Georgia (the country), I know this man, with a slight southern drawl and American exuberance, was speaking of the Peach State. My sister and me were intrigued, but just for a moment. After all, it isn't uncommon for Americans to visit Copenhagen. We joked that we should try to initiate conversation with the table by shouting, "Go Dawgs!" At this suggestion, I saw a flicker of uncertainty pass through my sister's boyfriend's eyes. We never did make contact with the table but, as it turns out, we regretted it.<br />
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As soon as the party left, my sister's boyfriend (let's just call him Anton), turned to us and said, "Do you know who that was, sitting at that table?"<br />
"The American guy?" we asked.<br />
"No, no, the other one. The one with white-blonde hair," Anton breathlessly replied.<br />
"I didn't notice anyone with white-blonde hair," I said. My sister concurred.<br />
"Well, for your information, that was Peter Schmeichel."<br />
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This was met with blank looks from us. Anton continued, "Peter Schmeichel! You don't know who that is?! He's a very famous soccer player, not just in Denmark but in all of Europe. If you said his name anywhere in Europe, people would know who he is!"<br />
"Really?!" my sister exclaimed. "He's like Pele?"<br />
"Or David Beckham?" I asked.<br />
Anton was becoming more and more flummoxed. "He's Peter Schmeichel! He doesn't need to be Pele or David Beckham!"<br />
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By now, of course, my sister and me were wondering why Anton didn't approach Peter for an autograph.<br />
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"You don't understand," Anton explained. "Denmark is a small country so it isn't uncommon to see celebrities often, especially in Copenhagen. I'm sure he didn't want to be bothered."<br />
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We looked at each other incredulously and said, "So what! He would've <i>loved</i> to talk to us! And there was even a guy from Georgia sitting with him so we definitely had an in. Why didn't you let us say something?!"<br />
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This whole conversation happened within a minute and I looked outside to see Peter standing on the sidewalk, saying a long goodbye to his dinner partners.<br />
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"Anton," I anxiously whispered, "He's still outside. Do you want me to go out there? Because I'll go out there right now and get his autograph for you."<br />
"No!" he cried, terrified, "I don't want his autograph! I don't want to bother him! This is exactly why I didn't tell you two!"<br />
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I was really just teasing anyway. It isn't like I really would have ran outside and jumped on the ivory-haired football player. I mean, I didn't even know who he was until just that moment. I just found Anton's fear of embarrassment amusing but I admit it would have been nice to share a photo of Peter with you. If you're a soccer fan, I'm sure you care about him very much. And now you know that he hangs out with American southerners and enjoys Singaporean food. You're welcome.<br />
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After the excitement of Peter Schmeichel died down, we ended the night at Tivoli Gardens, the world's second oldest amusement park. I'm really glad we saw it in the evening; the darkness made it all the more magical. It was like a cross between Willy Wonka's Chocolate Room and a more mysterious Disney World.<br />
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We were there just in time for the light show, which the admissions agent charmingly referred to as a "lightning show." It was a beautiful waterworks display set to a soundtrack of musical theatrics. Thousands of lanterns and fog machines cast an eerie glow throughout the park. The scene was made even more dramatic by gusts of strong wind blowing the illuminated water every which way.<br />
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Tivoli was whimsical. Walking through was like stepping back in time. It was nice to go with Anton since he has fond memories of going there with his family when he was a boy.<br />
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From a graveyard to a garden, my first day in Copenhagen was unique! The fun continued for two more days. Next I'll take you to the palace, on a boat tour, and to Christiania. But don't get your hopes up too much-- we never did run into Peter Schmeichel again, much to Anton's relief.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-83543931263134469122013-07-08T15:27:00.000+02:002013-07-08T15:27:08.207+02:00Welcome, Summer! And Andre Rieu!It's an exciting time to be living in Maastricht! The weather has been gorgeous the past few days, reminiscent of summer in Florida even. The streets are filled with tourists and everyone is wearing summer dresses, flip flops, and shorts. All of the sidewalk cafes are filled and the entire city feels like it's on vacation-- relaxed, lazy afternoons whiled away on blankets in the park, and couples and families eating waffle cones overflowing with gelato. This is exactly how I imagined Europe before we moved here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKzU_tyyYqr_WoHYcoyhQq__V_NmviGJHUuJSmWN-JATchGksSA1uuqUVqwY7yspQbZAT9-AN9iuN8sSnzhJ09SPmb9z3ZrGwKcNU-PKYBWd_fuUnJqhyXn5EmWrkJ5QP99-FLpd-1xWQ/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKzU_tyyYqr_WoHYcoyhQq__V_NmviGJHUuJSmWN-JATchGksSA1uuqUVqwY7yspQbZAT9-AN9iuN8sSnzhJ09SPmb9z3ZrGwKcNU-PKYBWd_fuUnJqhyXn5EmWrkJ5QP99-FLpd-1xWQ/s200/048.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a>Maastricht is in the running for the European Capital of Culture. Several other cities in the region are participating in this "Summer of Culture" and the winning city will be announced in 2018. With its rich selection of museums, galleries, restaurants, and festivals, Maastricht is a tough opponent. There is always something happening here! I frequently hear the sounds of marching bands wafting up to my windows from the Vrijthof. All sorts of street musicians provide a soundtrack in the cobblestone streets. It's not uncommon to pass a folk singer and then a few steps later, a classical violinist. Speaking of violins, Andre Rieu is in town.<br />
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Rieu is Maastricht's rock star. He's a violinist, conductor, and composer from Maastricht. Every summer he brings his orchestra back home from their worldwide tour to play concerts in the Vrijthof. The Vrijthof concerts are his most popular and people come from everywhere to hear him play in his hometown, against the enchanting backdrop of the "twin churches," Sint-Servaas Basiliek and Sint-Janskerk.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqXfutLxsR9FUsKzCWxiXkRUNuf30lHKzJhG45_LBFY5tofphRGEYSPX-FxhQhP6o1ifn8hca1WauPZh5S0LOiJhysSn1sxZXnuY0B4cUHzmRil42OkNoL6vDFD4hU3rnU6BY529fQBFw/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqXfutLxsR9FUsKzCWxiXkRUNuf30lHKzJhG45_LBFY5tofphRGEYSPX-FxhQhP6o1ifn8hca1WauPZh5S0LOiJhysSn1sxZXnuY0B4cUHzmRil42OkNoL6vDFD4hU3rnU6BY529fQBFw/s200/047.JPG" width="200" /></a>I don't have tickets this year but I do have a bird's eye view of the rear of the stage. I can hear the music clearly and I feel so lucky to be able to enjoy the concerts gratis from the comfort of my own apartment. I know a few people who have gone this year and they say much of the concert is devoted to the celebration of the coronation of newly-crowned King Willem-Alexander. His beautiful wife, Queen Maxima, is Argentinian. A resounding edition of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" is a staple at each concert. By now, I've heard it five times and I still think it's amazing.<br />
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Each concert ends with a spectacular fireworks show and then all of the concertgoers file out of the Vrijthof, quietly and obediently. The stadium lights go out and the streamers and confetti are swept from the streets before the next morning's hustle and bustle begins. We still have next weekend before the stage is removed and the Vrijthof goes back to being the Vrijthof. I'll be sad to see it all go. My weekend dinners will be much less exciting without the sounds of a live orchestra, and a fireworks show to send me off to bed.<br />
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Though Andre and his orchestra are packing up soon, Maastricht's Summer of Culture is just beginning. Forecasters are predicting a warm and sunny July and I've brought all of my sandals, dresses, and sunscreen out from storage. It came late this year but I'm glad it's finally happened-- Welcome, summer!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-86097803423820373052013-07-03T13:09:00.002+02:002014-02-20T14:41:16.128+01:00"Hello, George? It's my birthday."The weather was beautiful for our final day in Italy. We decided to take the long ferry from Como to Bellagio, "the pearl of Lake Como." The journey is a pleasant two-hour meander past charming Italian villages perched along the edges of the lake, flanked by mountains.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Villa d'Este</i></td></tr>
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We shared the ferry with lots of other tourists, mostly Australians, Canadians, and other Americans. Some passengers purchased headphones so they could listen in to commentary about the villages and scenery we were passing. Villa d'Este was the first landmark of note. Its majestic facade appeared before us in the tiny town of Cernobbio. Villa d'Este was built in 1568 and continued, for many years, to be embellished in the Renaissance style. It's been operated as a luxury hotel since 1873 and its guest roster boasts many famous names including Mark Twain, Madonna, Greta Garbo, Clark Gable, Ralph Lauren, and Aristotle Onassis. It was also a vacation destination for the Prince of Wales and his American sweetheart (and the woman for whom he'd abdicate the throne),<br />
Wallis Simpson.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Villa Fontanelle</i></td></tr>
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Moltrasio is the next village on the route. One of its most notable residences is Villa Fontanelle, former home of Gianni Versace. It was built in 1800 and sold to the Versace family in the 1980's. Madonna was a regular summer guest, and the villa served as the location for Jennifer Lopez's 2001 wedding. Today Villa Fontanelle is owned by a wealthy Russian restaurateur.<br />
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Since we didn't have the headphones, we were relying on others to tell us about the sights we were passing. Luckily, a family of four from Minnesota or Wisconsin or some other friendly midwestern state, excitedly relayed everything. We gradually came to realize that we all took the slow ferry for the same reason: George Clooney. From the beginning, before we even pulled out of the dock at Como, some middle-aged women behind us were daydreaming about the possibility of seeing him.<br />
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"Do you think he'll be home, Shirley?"<br />
"Well, I don't know. It's summer time and this is where I'd be if I had a villa in Italy. I'm sure the chances are good, Evelyn."<br />
"I can't wait to meet him!!"<br />
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I freely admit that I had my camera poised and ready to capture George at Villa Oleandra. Perhaps his girlfriend and maybe even his good friends Cindy Crawford and Brad Pitt would be sipping wine with him on a veranda. They would wave happily at our ferry, filled with throngs of tourists snapping photos like paparazzi. And then, miraculously, George would signal to me. He would hold up a sign reading, "I know it's your birthday! We're having a party for you! Please, come over!" And I would jump off the ferry and swim across Lake Como gracefully, like Esther Williams. George, Cindy, and Brad would pull me up from the water and envelop me in a luxurious robe with my initials stitched onto the front. Then they would give me presents and we would have dinner at Villa d'Este.<br />
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I'm not crazy like all the other women on the ferry; I didn't put too much thought into a chance meeting with George.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Villa de Clooney</i></td></tr>
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I had been snapping photos of every large and semi-large villa we passed, thinking it must be his. I thought Versace's house and a few other estates along the way might be it. I should have known that there would be no doubts when it actually happened. We were sailing along smoothly when all of a sudden the headphone-wearing female passengers collectively gasped and ran to one side of the ferry. The boat rocked precariously as the horde of women took hundreds of photos and waved excitedly at the villa. The American teenage girl we were sitting behind turned to us and breathlessly said, "The guide just said that if his boat is docked outside, it means he's either here or on his way! Eeeeeek!" And I freely admit that I "eeeked" with her and ran over to the side facing his house so he could see my birthday face.<br />
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Alas, we never saw George. I think some of the women convinced themselves that he was home but maybe he was just in the shower or grocery store. Otherwise he surely would've invited a gaggle of Canadian, American, Australian, and various European admirers into his estate. It's amazing how far-reaching his celebrity is.<br />
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Next up was Villa La Cassinella in Lenno. It's the property of Virgin mogul Sir Richard Branson and reportedly rents for a cool 80,000 Euros per WEEK. But it comes with all the fancy trimmings one would expect for that price tag: a chef, concierge, English-trained butler, a hidden infinity pool, and state-of-the-art cinema. I'm considering staying there next time, if George & Co. are out of town of course.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Villa La Cassinella</i></td></tr>
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The James Bond Villa, or Villa La Gaeta, lorded over us next in San Siro. Casino Royale was filmed here in 2006. The Bond lifestyle can be yours-- luxurious apartments inside the villa are available for rent.<br />
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One of my favorite properties was the Grand Hotel Tremezzo in Tremezzo. It's a 5-star property dating back to the early 1900's. Meticulously-landscaped gardens surround the palace and the lake views must be stunning. I'd love to take a dip in the floating pool!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpOptIAD1Qf4nOrA3bXO4P2YQwR2LahRHAYEYuUiWX58RnWU-tB1dj5aWNFajGUGZVeiLieaEoP2WbFIlfdVD43Ca47w0WdXCrkrClqPV4PRgU71rbw4YupHspnIpUezAtsbBOO8JCLLF/s1600/210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUpOptIAD1Qf4nOrA3bXO4P2YQwR2LahRHAYEYuUiWX58RnWU-tB1dj5aWNFajGUGZVeiLieaEoP2WbFIlfdVD43Ca47w0WdXCrkrClqPV4PRgU71rbw4YupHspnIpUezAtsbBOO8JCLLF/s200/210.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Grand Hotel Tremezzo</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt31wxjr_kCC5vYSIi6Er68HHuH1ycpPHPOCepR7h597t_ZLdcSOrXAG0aIaklbnuZk1iMYL-ToXqB9riVdKvT7ts7jiYLFB0RFc59b3_BTKMSZfnCjSQAKMD2GG7i1fU7a1utYF9Dmdnb/s1600/224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt31wxjr_kCC5vYSIi6Er68HHuH1ycpPHPOCepR7h597t_ZLdcSOrXAG0aIaklbnuZk1iMYL-ToXqB9riVdKvT7ts7jiYLFB0RFc59b3_BTKMSZfnCjSQAKMD2GG7i1fU7a1utYF9Dmdnb/s200/224.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>After the architecture-overload, we finally arrived in Bellagio. We had several hours to spend in town before catching another ferry back to Como. It was already after noon and we were starving, so we decided to find a good place for lunch. We walked away from the tourist-lined streets and vendors selling postcards and ended up on a charming side street. As we made our way up the cobbled steps, a low-hanging wooden sign caught our attention. We glanced inside Enoteca Cava Turacciolo and immediately decided we'd found our spot.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlon3yt5PGwyEWzE2MM_IYM9xi3rIHWRlcr7CaLO9jQbrND2XkX5JQGLV1CJ0sF-KdCdZI_muU-oTg0Fz4baEuJgrM130YGWnuK_YAy6iuh0SbLwrX_gSoKuyO_fTECHEC6CLyv9uGMuu/s1600/220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlon3yt5PGwyEWzE2MM_IYM9xi3rIHWRlcr7CaLO9jQbrND2XkX5JQGLV1CJ0sF-KdCdZI_muU-oTg0Fz4baEuJgrM130YGWnuK_YAy6iuh0SbLwrX_gSoKuyO_fTECHEC6CLyv9uGMuu/s200/220.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>It felt as if we were walking into a private wine cellar. The damp air smelled ancient but the dark atmosphere was lit by glowing candles and festooned with fresh flowers-- cozy and welcoming. Another reason we decided to stay was the boisterous laughter emanating from a room deep in the cellar. A large party was having a wine tasting and also, from the sounds of their mirth, the time of their lives. We sat down at a high-top for two near the entrance and were immediately waited on by a friendly woman. We decided to have a tasting of 3 reds and 3 whites, along with some champagne to start. We paired it with local cheeses, pastas, and olives.<br />
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It became evident to us that the large party in the back was a whole bunch of Americans. It sounded like they hailed from Oklahoma or Texas, based upon their accents and figures of speech. Their laughter was our soundtrack as we sipped and nibbled and, I must say, it was nice to hear my fellow countrymen having such a grand time. It reminded me of some of the positive attributes of Americans. I think (very generally, of course), we are friendly, open, inviting, welcoming, and yes- loud. But sometimes noise is appropriate, especially if it's happy noise. And the owners of the cellar were also very happy because every single American in that group spent several minutes choosing wines to be shipped all the way back to the states. It was a win-win for everyone.<br />
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Bellagio is a small resort so we kept running into them after we'd all left Enoteca Cava Turacciolo. We heard them before we saw them, their voices always animated and cheerful with lots of, "Ooooooh! Did y'all see that?!" and, "Wow, I ain't never seen a place like this in my life!" They reminded me of home, and made me miss it.<br />
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We spent a long time at the wine tasting so we ended the last hour in Bellagio with a walk around the waterfront. We cooled down with some tasty gelato as we watched ferries and boats come in and out of the harbor. The highlight of our harbor-watching was seeing a bride and groom in a taxi-boat on the way to Varenna.<br />
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We took the fast ferry back to Como. It cut the travel time down to 40 minutes so we were there in time for dinner. The concierge at our hotel recommended a restaurant close by called The Market Place. We didn't have reservations but the staff found a spot for us in the small dining room. The kitchen was open and we watched the chef carefully and lovingly prepare and inspect each dish before it went out to patrons. We chose the 50 Euros tasting menu, paired with international and Italian wines. It was amazing! The dishes were original and inventive. The lasagnette with potato and leeks was particularly delicious. All of the staff were incredible and it was a great value. All in all, a remarkable meal and one of my favorites in recent memory.<br />
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I was sad to leave the sunny shores of Lake Como. The wine, food, sights, and people made for an unforgettable vacation and birthday. Though we didn't meet George Clooney, running into all of the Americans in Bellagio was just as exciting. Who needs George and James Bond when you're already in a dream world of inexpensive wine, creamy gelato, delectable pasta, mountains, a deep blue lake, and sunny skies.<br />
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Molte grazie, Lake Como! And give my regards to George.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-40377439606347954902013-06-27T16:29:00.002+02:002013-09-10T19:59:21.322+02:00Como, Italy and Lugano, Switzerland<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkTatY9zPPKGHql-UUnp30_2wZCKDaJUBD0NlryEqLPJ4Yo09gotfjOOmGXO2n1hYGN384krDJZKhpsf4bT8ppOuHseLKCM1lg3PFAEpq_-9082_o5w2IZC2Q40ZT5v8QfvZN72BzFz6w/s1600/104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkTatY9zPPKGHql-UUnp30_2wZCKDaJUBD0NlryEqLPJ4Yo09gotfjOOmGXO2n1hYGN384krDJZKhpsf4bT8ppOuHseLKCM1lg3PFAEpq_-9082_o5w2IZC2Q40ZT5v8QfvZN72BzFz6w/s200/104.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hotel Borgo Antico</i></td></tr>
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Buongiorno! I spent a few days with a friend in Como, Italy for my birthday. Apparently we chose the perfect time to visit; several locals told us that the weather had been dismal just a few days before our arrival. Luckily for us, it was sunny, warm, and beautiful during our entire stay!<br />
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Before this, my only exposure to Italy was Milan for this past New Year's. We had a wonderful time but Milan is certainly a "business" city. It wasn't really the Italy I imagined: coastal, filled with beautiful and friendly people, and lots of delicious pizza and pasta. I'm so glad I was able to see a different city in Italy. Though Como is only 40 miles away from Milan, it feels like a different country.<br />
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We flew into Bergamo and took first a bus and then two trains to reach Como. Our hotel was just a five minute walk to the train station. Hotel Borgo Antico has only been open for a few months and it was absolutely perfect for our stay. The value is unbeatable and breakfast is included. Staff were eager to please and the property is extremely secure, with a 24-hour desk attendant who buzzes guests into the hotel after hours.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Duomo in Como</i></td></tr>
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We spent our first afternoon eating lunch on a terrace in the historical center of Como. I didn't have one bad meal in Como and the wine (I mostly had house whites/reds) was fabulous! I was grateful for the reasonable prices. Maybe it's because I just returned from Santorini and felt slightly robbed. Anyway, it was a pleasant surprise.<br />
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There are lots of shops in Como stocking the usual touristy items, but also many upscale boutiques selling the fashionable image of Italy. We browsed around in a few and if I had the dough, I would've definitely purchased a Gucci gown from Tessabit... you know, for all of those film premieres and private parties at Villa d'Este.<br />
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We had a lovely lunch of pizza and prosciutto with fresh melon the next day. This was fuel for our journey up to the top of Como on the funicular. The views were stunning and it was actually my first time on a funicular. Como's has been operating since 1894. The walls of the waiting area at the bottom are filled with old photos from a time gone by, when the funicular was operated by steam engine and female passengers wore long, billowing skirts and fancy hats.<br />
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After our bird's eye view of the lake and Alps, we decided to take a quick train ride to Lugano in Switzerland. We didn't know much about Lugano but we thought the side-trip would be a fun way to spend the afternoon. Before we knew it, the sparkling waters of Lake Lugano stretched before us, framed by a mountainous backdrop.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lugano</i></td></tr>
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As we made our way down to the lakeside from the station, we happened upon the Cathedral of San Lorenzo. The cathedral was founded in the early Middle Ages. It was under serious restoration but windows were strategically placed in the plastic partitions and we could still look in and get an idea of what the church looked like without all of the construction. Fortunately one small section wasn't covered in scaffolding. The frescoes on the ceiling were breathtaking.<br />
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Next, we strolled down the Lakeshore Promenade toward Belvedere Garden. Lots of people were out, lounging in chaises while reading, napping on blankets in the sun, and playing ultimate frisbee. It was a beautiful, lush park with playgrounds, lots of trees, and spectacular views of the lake and mountains.<br />
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The day was coming to an end and we had to catch a train back to Como for dinner. Lugano was lovely and I'm really glad we went, even if just for an afternoon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Newspaper Art in a Lugano Tunnel</i></td></tr>
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Our final day in Como was next. It involved wine, some rowdy Americans, and George Clooney.<br />
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Ciao! Ciao!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-15314430058054294332013-06-07T09:07:00.001+02:002013-06-07T09:07:46.893+02:00Hello, Maastricht, Our New Home!The past two months have been very busy. We had a visitor for a little over a week and the rest of the time was spent preparing for our big move. We are now proud residents of Maastricht in The Netherlands! We are only a 30-minute drive from our house in Germany but it feels worlds apart. We are very fortunate to be able to experience life in two different countries. Though they share a border, we are already noticing little differences here and there. We spent a lot of time in Maastricht before the move so we're lucky we can just focus on relaxing and settling in rather than wandering around aimlessly, trying to figure out where everything is in the new town.<br />
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With that said, I feel like I'm already losing some of the German I spent a few months learning. It looks like I'll have to keep current with it on my own since I won't have daily interactions with the language anymore. Dutch is very different and I know some of the basic words and greetings, but it seems like people here just prefer to speak English. And their English is excellent. <br />
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I'm looking forward to new adventures in Maastricht! Before my attention turns to all things Dutch, here is a list I compiled for a blog contest a few months ago about living in Germany.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Things Americans Should Know Before Moving to Deutschland</span></b><br />
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Forget about personal space. Get accustomed to strangers standing close enough to breathe down your neck and skip you in line before you can say, "Entschuldigung."<br />
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Be a good hausfrau. The sidewalk in front of your house is directly correlated to your social acceptance in the neighborhood. Shovel and salt it before 8am if it snows and make sure it's swept clean of miniscule dirt particles at all other times. And wash your windows, too.<br />
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The weather is completely unpredictable. When I first moved here I thought people were being rude when I asked for a description of typical German weather because they always replied with something like, "Well, who knows! Maybe this morning it's sunny, maybe this afternoon it snows!" Take their "advice." You should always have a jacket, an umbrella, a scarf, possibly gloves, and rainproof shoes.<br />
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Unless you are moving to a region time hasn't touched (which might seem the case but probably isn't), know that most people speak English and they are offended if you ask, "Sorry, sprechen sie Englisch?" Once I made this mistake and the man indignantly bellowed, "Of course I speak English! It is the international language!!!"<br />
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If you are American, people know it. I don't know how they know; they just do. You can stop wearing Nikes everywhere, throw your elastic-waisted pants in the garbage, and take off your baseball cap but they will still see you coming from a mile away. Inexplicably, after several months of living here you will also be able to distinguish other Americans in a crowded place before hearing them speak.<br />
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Learn to love recycling. Some villages actually weigh your Restmull/Restabfall (everything that can't be recycled/composted) and you can be fined if you go over your allotment. It's easy to get the hang of it. You'll live by your Waste Calendar and your days will be classified as Glass, Paper, Bio, Recycling, and Regular Trash. Before you know it you'll be happily recycling everything from wine bottles to toilet paper rolls. You're such a good German!<br />
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Water is served in tiny glass bottles with their own special designer cup, typically at room temperature. Don't ask for tap water unless you want to be forever shunned. The good news is that beer is usually either the same price or cheaper than a dainty little bottle of water. This results in guiltless day drinking.<br />
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Ice cubes are nonexistent here. I've read some theories as to why but haven't discovered any concrete reason for ice-less beverages. I suggest you purchase some old-fashioned plastic trays and munch on the nostalgia in the comfort of your own haus.<br />
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Carnival is as exciting as you imagine! It's like Mardis Gras and Halloween on steroids. There are endless parades with intricate floats, everyone wears painstakingly-crafted costumes, and all of the candy thrown from the floats is washed down with beer. Lots and lots of beer. There isn't a bad place to participate in the Carnival festivities. In fact, you can attend lots of different celebrations because there are so many villages and each has its own parade. Just be sure to use the right salutation: In and around Koln, it's, "Alaaf!" Almost everywhere else it's, "Helau!"<br />
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Driving is an adventure whether cars are whizzing past you on the Autobahn or you're zigzagging around haphazardly-parked cars on a one-way cobblestone street in a quaint village. Always yield to pedestrians and don't hit the cyclists. Don't worry; you'll become accustomed to the whiplash.<br />
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Don't leave home without your shopping bag/basket. German grocery stores do have bags available-- for purchase. If you want to avoid buying and amassing lots of oddly-sized plastic bags, just bring your own. And hone your bagging skills because there's no friendly teenager offering paper or plastic. German cashiers are extremely efficient so all of your purchases will already be waiting for you at the end of the conveyor belt while you're clumsily fumbling for money and everyone in line behind you is sighing and glancing at their watches. Move out of the next person's way as fast as possible, even if that means throwing all of your items into your bag, breaking your eggs and crushing your bread, and awkwardly yelling, "Tschus" to the cashier as you run out of the store. Grocery shopping will eventually become less traumatic.<br />
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Do you love asparagus? You will during spargel season or you just might starve. Germans are obsessed with white asparagus and as soon as spargel season arrives (usually mid-May), roadside stands pop up and it dominates restaurant menus. Spargel soup. Steamed spargel. Spargel with Hollandaise sauce. And don't forget to peel it. I only made that mistake once but once was all it took.<br />
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The most important thing to know before moving here is that you'll become accustomed to everything. As long as you embrace your confusion and learn some common German phrases, people will be receptive. In no time, you'll be zooming down the Autobahn, cycling everywhere, and complaining about the weather like any good German. Viel gluck!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3RqLpD5MQQa-OlD7cVs8oiip-NNzcAubQ6ZJh6SsgV25T52iT5a30FYRCQOPiLa705m8j1KXnBeB1FQzZxKe0bMPinBvpuo8dS0v6U5UYP5QEAEEog8X-yAKO_pW-pzb94hDlDTXfQHG/s1600/maassunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3RqLpD5MQQa-OlD7cVs8oiip-NNzcAubQ6ZJh6SsgV25T52iT5a30FYRCQOPiLa705m8j1KXnBeB1FQzZxKe0bMPinBvpuo8dS0v6U5UYP5QEAEEog8X-yAKO_pW-pzb94hDlDTXfQHG/s400/maassunset.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunset from our Apartment in Maastricht</i></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-31003115161274657912013-06-05T13:43:00.003+02:002013-06-05T13:43:45.571+02:00See ya, Oia!I took an unintended two-month hiatus from the blog. A lot has happened during the past two months but I'll get to that after I share our April trip to Santorini!<br />
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Last year we traveled to Mallorca to escape the never-ending German winter. This year we planned ahead for a sunny getaway in early spring. As we left Germany, snow was still on the ground and it was a dreary, misty day. You can imagine our anticipation to get to the ocean as fast as possible.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Andronis Luxury Suites</i></td></tr>
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We arrived in Santorini at night and a car service from our hotel picked us up at the tiny airport. It was a 40-minute ride to Oia and the friendly driver zipped through narrow roads hugging cliffs hanging over the Aegean Sea. We couldn't see it of course, since it was dark, but he managed to inform us about the steep drops in between answering his cell phone and taking his hands off the wheel to gesticulate animatedly several times. I think we were pretty relieved to not be able to see how close we were to the edge.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Compliments of Andronis</i></td></tr>
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We chose Andronis Luxury Suites for our stay in Oia. It's on the pricey side but we were able to save money because we went very early in the season when prices are lower, and we were also upgraded to a deluxe suite because the hotel wasn't full. The reception was first-class. With our glasses of champagne (Pommery-- how funny since we'd just been to that Champagne house in Reims), we were shown to our beautiful suite and given a complimentary bottle of wine served alongside little tastes from the kitchen. The room was sparse, but tastefully decorated; the circular white walls gave the impression of being in a cave inside a volcano.<br />
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The next morning we awoke to a fresh and delectable breakfast. The breakfast served at Andronis is one of its highlights. It's all made-to-order from a diverse selection of everything from eggs-your-way, breakfast meats, local delicacies, and the most scrumptious Greek yogurt served with honey and fresh fruit. Breakfast can be delivered and set up in your room's private balcony or taken outside on a small cliff jutting over the sea. The view from our balcony took our breaths away: panoramic sweeps of the caldera, mountains in the distance, and endless ocean. Sun was sparkling off soft swells and we couldn't wait to apply sunscreen for the first time in months.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSDQ0JGoWSPlh-1-p4J6bofdfrCjP39vhPBPNthyphenhyphen4Jg94kavrys0Nslhyxkc9kU5sxO8iRxqsqu55FUu-1UF_87DR4dQHYYrax8eOd7IF3_kvgNaJZjpRrrsz35-2UWyvfG4yVsL2SL-X/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSDQ0JGoWSPlh-1-p4J6bofdfrCjP39vhPBPNthyphenhyphen4Jg94kavrys0Nslhyxkc9kU5sxO8iRxqsqu55FUu-1UF_87DR4dQHYYrax8eOd7IF3_kvgNaJZjpRrrsz35-2UWyvfG4yVsL2SL-X/s200/016.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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We spent the first glorious day lounging by the infinity pool and strolling through the white, marbled streets of Oia. There are lots of touristy shops (to be expected) and many cafes and restaurants, each with its own commanding view of the landscape.<br />
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Since we went so early in the season, some of the top-rated restaurants were still closed. The weather was also a little iffy at times. The days were hot and the nights became a little chilly after sunset. On the final night of our stay there was a terrible windstorm, reminiscent of tropical storm or hurricane winds in Florida. Evidently this sort of thing does happen in Oia, though not usually in April. But it was no matter to us. We spent our final day inside the hotel reading, relaxing, and enjoying our in-room jacuzzi.<br />
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We also made use of the wonderful masseuses in the spa at Andronis and we were able to visit Sigalis Winery to sample the local flavors at an expansive tasting right beside the vineyards.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tasting at Domaine Sigalis Winery</i></td></tr>
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Oia was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime trip. It wasn't as affordable as we'd expected-- we noticed a big difference in pricing and value between Mallorca and Oia, but it was stunning. The blindingly white walls of the city are a unique contrast to the cerulean Aegean Sea. People are friendly and the cherry tomatoes and other local dishes are delicious. If we had it to do over again, I think we would have chosen to go later in the season. Though it gets extremely crowded then, the water is warmer and all of the restaurants and shops are open and ready to accept visitors.<br />
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Our vacation to Oia was incredibly relaxing and indulgent. It was the perfect way to take a break from the cold, dreary days in Germany. The sunshine was just what we needed and the sunsets were breathtaking. We were sad to put away our swimsuits and sandals and replace them with jackets and boots. Hopefully we'll be able to return some day. See ya, Oia!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-68411049492210995422013-04-27T12:43:00.002+02:002013-04-27T12:43:50.974+02:00Au Revoir, Paris<div>
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Our second day in Paris was Easter Sunday. The crowds were unimaginable. We walked along the Champs-Elysees along with hundreds of other tourists. Then we made our way to the Louvre. We opted not to go inside due to the crowds and our time restriction but we did see the Louvre Pyramid. Admittedly, all I really know about the Louvre is that it houses the <i>Mona Lisa</i>. What surprised me the most is how large the complex is. It seems to go on forever. It would take days to see everything!<div>
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The Paris I was really itching to see was the Saint-Germain-des-Pres. Not so many years ago, it was the haunt of Ernest Hemingway, Salvador Dali, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Joyce, and Ezra Pound. Just before our trip I read a book called <i>The Most Beautiful Walk in the World: A Pedestrian in Paris</i> by John Baxter. The author is an expat who lives in the Saint-Germain-des-Pres neighborhood and his commentary takes readers back to a time when Hemingway sat outside of Les Deux Magots cafe, sipping a cocktail while thinking about writing <i>A Moveable Feast</i>. The book is a good read but the travelers' tips at the end are priceless. They will save you money in Paris, to be sure.</div>
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Cafe di Flore is another famous cafe in the neighborhood. This cafe and Les Deux Magots are often considered rivals. Both boasted an impressive, elite clientele of literary geniuses and philosophers. They are<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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steps away from each other. I felt the need to go to both so we had lunch at Cafe di Flore and then sipped wine outside at Les Deux Magots. We managed to see Paris on the cheap, and this lunch and wine were the most expensive things we did. I knew that we were paying tourist prices but, like many others there, I was trying to soak up some literary genius by hopefully perching myself exactly where Fitzgerald or Hemingway once sat. My husband gamely complied and to his credit, didn't even blink when we were presented with the astronomical bill for two glasses of wine and some peanuts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzmbeF10_XAuYe36yLFWLo6NWje-SsHUTW3Nz7m6SQyBFSeQQPSrE2dNEPonMaBMI4nZQEKAppxa2IAS-iW7evTK2OmSr4S16XKRLZrV07nEuoLx3xqgfy7IWOeGxxRc4322wEeAs1dng/s1600/118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzmbeF10_XAuYe36yLFWLo6NWje-SsHUTW3Nz7m6SQyBFSeQQPSrE2dNEPonMaBMI4nZQEKAppxa2IAS-iW7evTK2OmSr4S16XKRLZrV07nEuoLx3xqgfy7IWOeGxxRc4322wEeAs1dng/s200/118.JPG" width="150" /></a>Next we decided to leave our mark on Paris at the Passerelle des Arts. This pedestrian bridge crosses the Seine River and thousands of padlocks with lovers' initials adorn the fence. You can purchase a cheap padlock from street vendors and then find an empty spot (difficult task) to attach your declaration of undying love. Again, a very touristy thing to do but also a perfect way to contribute to the whole "City of Love" vibe. It's a lot of fun to read the other padlocks and see names like Ludwig and Helga, knowing that people from all over the world have been standing right where you are, padlocking their names to a fence in Paris, vowing to return someday to see it still fixed there for all the world to see.</div>
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Our next stop was Notre Dame. Once again we were reminded how crazy it was to visit Paris on a holiday, and especially to visit Notre Dame on Easter Sunday. I don't know how many people were lined up outside of the cathedral but it really did appear to be thousands. We knew there was no chance of us going inside so we walked around the perimeter and commented about how beautiful and grand it all was.</div>
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Then we decided we'd had enough of our whirlwind tour. We felt as if we'd been almost everywhere worth seeing on your first trip to Paris, especially since we had only two days. We'd walked miles and miles, shouldering past throngs of tourists and bundling up against the cold. We both knew what time it was: pub time.</div>
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We consulted our guidebook and headed back to Saint Germain-des-Pres for a drink or two. I have already forgotten the name of the place we were going but it doesn't matter anyway because we never made it. When we reached the location, there was a sign indicating that it had moved. A crudely-drawn map showed us where to go and we found the "new and bigger" location about five minutes away-- closed for Easter Sunday. We didn't let our spirits sink too much because Le Pub beckoned to us from down the street. And I'm not joking about the name; it really is called Le Pub.</div>
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It was around 3pm so we were just about the only people there. We saddled up to the bar and ordered some fine Belgian beers (Grimbergen Blanche). Black and green olives and pretzels were complimentary and they were refilled every time our beers were... which was several times. My husband ordered some absinthe, just to clinch the experience. The bartender artfully prepared the absinthe and we felt truly hip. At one point my husband asked what time Happy Hour began and the bartender informed us we still had an hour. We shrugged and ordered more beers anyway. An hour hadn't passed by the time we needed the next rounds but the bartender plunked them down in front of us and with a wink and subtle smile as he said, "Now, it is Happy Hour!" And you know what? He did give us Happy Hour prices for those beers. Who says the French are rude to tourists?!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Absinthe</i></td></tr>
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We finally decided to pull ourselves away (reluctantly) from Le Pub because we had a long walk back to the hotel. Un Dimanche a Paris (A Sunday in Paris) is a chocolate shop close to Le Pub. We purchased a sampler set of 12 delicious truffles for dessert. They were the best truffles I've ever tasted!</div>
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We walked through the Louvre once more, heading toward the towering Eiffel growing larger and larger as we made our way. We decided to stop off at a grocery store to buy bread, cheese, olives, meats, grapes, and wine for a dinner on the rooftop of our hotel. It was the perfect way to end our Paris vacation: sipping wine over the top of the city, with the Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower sparkling in front of us. </div>
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Eventually the cold became too much for us to ignore and we began clearing away our dinner to go back down to the room. As we reached the stairs, I looked back for one last glimpse at the tower and suddenly it began sparkling and the lights changed colors. I yelled for my husband to come back because I was worried it would stop as fast as it began. Luckily for us, the light show went on for a long time and we held hands, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. It was a perfect moment. </div>
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Did I fall in love with Paris? Oui! I can't wait to return. Next time we'll be able to enter some of the museums and see things we missed. The city is HUGE! I don't know why that surprised me. I think we did a good job with the time we had and I wouldn't change anything about my first time in Paris. </div>
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It is true that Paris is an expensive city but there are ways to make it affordable. We didn't dine at a Michelin restaurant but I doubt any of those restaurants have the views we enjoyed eating our pizza in Montmarte and our baguettes on our hotel's rooftop. Just keep that in mind.</div>
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So go to Paris and see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and everything else important we missed. But make sure to leave your love lock on the bridge, have a cheap picnic somewhere with a nice view, and definitely go to Le Pub and order one or four Grimbergen Blanches. And top it off with some chocolate from Un Dimanche a Paris. </div>
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Au revoir, Paris. But hopefully not for long.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5363919818094625575.post-32573687464369854792013-04-16T19:23:00.000+02:002013-09-10T19:53:58.395+02:00First Day in ParisWe just returned from a whirlwind tour of Paris! It was my first time in "The City of Light" and it was amazing. Our last-minute plans put us in a budget hotel, the Adagio Access Paris Tilsitt. It's across from the Belgian Embassy, 150 yards from the Arc de Ttriomphe and 300 yards from the Champs-Elysees. It was a<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Arc de Triomphe</i></td></tr>
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great choice because of the location and, most importantly, the rooftop terrace that provided superb views of the Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower in the distance.<br />
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We arrived in the late afternoon on our first day. The drive from Reims wasn't long but we left the car at Disneyland Paris since the parking rates are much more reasonable than those within the city. It's an easy 40-minute train ride from Disneyland into Paris. We emerged from the Metro right under the Arc de Triomphe. In all honesty, it really took my breath away. It was a great moment and the perfect way to begin our weekend in Paris.<br />
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After we checked into the hotel we got right down to sightseeing. I'm sure you already know this, and I think I probably also knew this before I visited Paris, but it didn't really hit me until I was actually there; Paris is HUGE! Perhaps I thought the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Louvre, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur (and on, and on, and on....) would all be in a neat little row. They aren't. And we decided to walk to all of them. If you plan to do the same, allow me to assure you of this: Those delectable baguettes, croissants, and chocolates won't go anywhere near your thighs because you'll burn the calories off as fast as you eat them.<br />
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The first stop, of course, was the Eiffel Tower. It was still cold during Easter, so cold in fact that snow flurries were blowing around when we came out of the Metro. One of my top things to do in Paris was to have a picnic at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. I don't think this sort of thing really becomes popular until the weather is warmer but we did our best by grabbing some jambon et fromage baguettes and sitting on a park bench enjoying the tourists' cacophony from a distance. It was really nice, even though we were shivering.<br />
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Lunch gave us the energy to continue our stroll/power-walk. We made it to Place de la Concorde, the largest square in Paris. During the French Revolution it was called Place de la Revolution. At a guillotine in the center, 1119 people were beheaded over just a few years. Notable victims of the guillotine include King Louis XVI and Marie-Antionette. The obelisk in the center of Place de la Concorde is called Cleopatra's Needle. It's from the temple of Ramses II and was installed in the 19th century.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cleopatra's Needle</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>View from Montmartre</i></td></tr>
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We continued on to our final destination of the day: Montmartre. A friend suggested that we grab a bottle of French wine, pizza from an outdoor vendor, and find a spot on the hill to have dinner atop Paris. We took the advice to heart and climbed the steps to the the top of the hill with our pizza and Beaujolais in hand. We watched as the sky darkened and the City of Light came to life. There was an older French couple on the bench beside us having the same dinner and that made us feel <span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.2em;">très </span>Parisian.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2tXrdVugbPKBVB8UYtg5AkafZu4htxPK7ZPYP1qq1rQsFKBTB6JROVdecZTi4lcK6C98LP2-9opsd5MDdZ9zUiKAXb8zs9X60rWjm5LEH0idQpDcITPbcan-Zi05CzRJLyLiFApxL_dY/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2tXrdVugbPKBVB8UYtg5AkafZu4htxPK7ZPYP1qq1rQsFKBTB6JROVdecZTi4lcK6C98LP2-9opsd5MDdZ9zUiKAXb8zs9X60rWjm5LEH0idQpDcITPbcan-Zi05CzRJLyLiFApxL_dY/s200/076.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sacre Coeur</i></td></tr>
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Sated and buzzed, we decided to get lost in the cobbled streets of Montmartre. There were so many shops, bars, and cozy restaurants tucked into small alleys. There were still a lot of tourists but it was a little quieter away from the hill. We could see the Basilica of Sacre Coeur from almost every spot and it was majestic, its stark white facade softly illuminated against the dark Parisian sky. We found a charming little piano bar off the beaten path. The Vin du Mois (Wine of the Month) went down smoothly and was an affordable surprise at only 5 Euros per glass.<br />
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Since it was late and cold we took the Metro back to the hotel. On the way, we detoured over to that most famous of cabarets, the Moulin Rouge. We didn't see any shows but we did stand outside long enough to snap some very touristy photos.<br />
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At the end of my first day in Paris, I had two important observations:<br />
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1.) It's filled with tourists! It's one of the world's most visited cities and it certainly feels that way. Granted, we were there on Easter weekend so we were vying for sidewalk space with spring breakers and other vacationers, but I can't imagine the crowds dwindling over the next few months and I don't think I would ever want to visit in the middle of summer.<br />
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2.) I'd heard so many horror stories about how rude the French are and that all of them are unwilling to speak anything other than French. I took three levels of French in college so I wasn't too concerned about being about to navigate, even if it was clumsily. Much to my surprise, we didn't come across one rude Frenchman. Or woman. They weren't only kind and accommodating; some even switched to English once they realized it was our native language. Maybe it was a fluke, or perhaps the Parisians have an unfair reputation.<br />
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The visit isn't over just yet...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0