We had some coffee and pastries and caught the 10:25 train. Since we didn’t have seats on that train, we ended up constantly dragging our luggage around, trying to find open seats after people got on at each stop. I don’t like to be so sweaty that early in the day.

We got in, got to our hotel, and they had given our room to someone else named Koch. I guess if bad stuff was going to happen, it might as well happen in the same day. It actually only took fifteen minutes to sort out. We went out walking. We found a cute neighborhood bar and had big open-faced sandwiches (pastrami with horseradish cream and veggies and gorgonzola; Charlie wasn’t that hungry so I ended up eating most of both of them) and a tosti, which is just a grilled sandwich, with hamburger and paprika. The beer was good and very cheap. The old bars there are called “brown bars” because the walls (and everything else) are brown from decades of being exposed to cigarette smoke. It was a cloudy, chilly day. The city is really very beautiful. Pretty much every street runs along a canal (there’s 100 km of them), and the buildings are 3-4 stories, brick and full of windows. Everything seems to be in really good condition, and we noticed a lot of renovation and construction. And EVERYONE rides bikes. There are 12 million people in Holland and 12 million bikes. The bike lanes have their own traffic lights, and bikes have right of way. No helmets, though. I think you could make a lot of money getting the Dutch to pass a helmet law and then selling them helmets.

I was feeling the effects of the morning stress, and didn’t have a lot of energy for exploring. We took a canal cruise, which, despite the weather, was lovely, and taught us that, on average, one car per week goes over the edge into the water.

We had dinner at a pub on the main restaurant square. It was decorated like an Irish pub, with big brown leather chairs and etched glass. We had read about bitterballen, the local bar specialty, so we started with that. They’re just croquettes, not really sure what’s in them, but they were good. I had a salad, and Charlie broke his vow to wait until we got home and had an enormous bacon cheeseburger with fries.

The weather forecast was clouds and drizzle for the next two days, so when we woke up to sunshine, we decided to take advantage. We rented bikes and rode north to the harbor. There is a free ferry to get to the other side.

We rode north through the town and found a path along a river. But we couldn’t figure out how to get out farther into the countryside. Luckily, a woman saw us looking confused and gave us very good directions to a bike path through the pastureland. Cows, horses, and sheep everywhere. The canals go through the fields here as well, surrounding the pastures so I wasn’t that afraid that the sheep could come get me. In the small towns, all the houses are surrounded by canals, so the driveways all have a little bridge. Everyone has a small boat tied up in their front yard. It was exactly as beautiful as you’d think. No windmills, though. Also, I’ll admit, a little reminiscent of the sod farm. Maybe you guys could rent bikes and charge admission?

We stopped for lunch on the eastern coast. I had a smoked salmon sandwich and Charlie had a pannekoeken with cheese. We started with some kind of appetizer that was a bunch of fried stuff. Delicious. We rode back, the cows less spectacular when your butt hurts. We got back around 4, which was just enough time to make it to the Van Gogh museum. Charlie had been there before, but he still loved it, as did I. For dinner, we found a restaurant with tables alongside a canal. I started with a warm mackerel salad with sun-dried tomatoes and truffle potatoes, and Charlie had unbelievably tender teriyaki beef with black beans and bok choy. Then I had sea bass in red curry sauce with squid and shrimp cakes, and Charlie had chili gnocchi with pesto, ricotta, and mushrooms. It was very fancy and very delicious.

Afterward we decided to go for a walk through the town at night. We saw the red light district, and I have opinions that I will share if you ask me. In short, we left with me almost in tears. On the way home, some stoner asked Charlie for a cigarette and then threatened to throw him off a bridge when he didn’t have any. It was unpleasant.

We spent our next (and last) day museuming again. We started at the Anne Frank House. It’s really an excellent museum. Again, I left near tears. It was a little marred by the group of teenagers (German, no less) giggling uncontrollably because one of them farted. Not really a giggling kind of a place. Then we rode our bikes back to the Rijks museum, which is on Museumplein, near Van Gogh and a few others. It’s a gigantic old building that is unfortunately under construction, so the most famous works have been moved to a few central rooms. It was still good to see. First was paintings and history of the early Dutch. They were very successful in the shipping industry, and the inhabitants were very wealthy. The clothing and jewelry and furniture we saw were more impressive than some of the stuff at Versailles, and this was just what the merchants had. Like most countries, they fought a bunch of wars and had lots of paintings done in commemoration. We saw paintings from Rembrandt, Vermeer, and their contemporaries. They painted a lot of peasant life, portraits, and still lifes. Rembrandt’s “The Night Watch” is there. We weren’t that impressed. We saw silver and delftware (the white porcelain with blue painting) and then a dollhouse that a woman had made as an EXACT replica of her house. Down to the patterns on the delftware. She apparently paid more for it than most people paid for a real house.

Next was the “Heineken Experience.” It starts out just like the Carlsberg museum, with a father who founds the brewery and passes it on to his son, plus the “commitment to science” and their own special yeast strain that imparts the “distinct flavor.” Then a guy explained the four ingredients of beer (if you add anything else, like we do here, you can’t call it beer), which are water, barley, hops, and yeast. Then you got to see the brew kettles, with videos inside explaining the process.

We got to taste some wort, which is the filtered liquid after the barley and water are boiled for awhile. Tastes like cornflake milk. Then there’s a “ride,” where you stand in a small room in front of a screen and experience the brewing process first hand. They sprinkle some water on you, blow some air, heat you up, and shake you around a little bit. It was cute. Next was a beer tasting, where they explained that the foam protects the beer from oxidizing, and showed us how to drink it while preserving the foam. Then a bunch of propaganda for FIFA and various sports things we didn’t care about. Then you got to have two Heinekens in a sort of club atmosphere. They had really cool interactive bar tables that responded to setting the beer down on it. The screens around the room showed the skylines of several major cities. And typical European techno music. It was fun.

We went to a square nearby and had lunch at a little pub. Mine was another open-faced sandwich (they do it on this thick, dark wheat bread so you have to eat it with a knife and fork) with carpaccio and pine nuts. Charlie had one with , and we split another tosti with brie and chorizo. The forecast had been for clouds and rain, but the sun was out and we enjoyed yet another outdoor cafe lunch, our last.

We had decided to do a dinner cruise for our last dinner. It started at eight, and they served us prosecco rght away. Then an amuse bouche (salty cream cheese with almonds), and a salad of cucumber, avocado, tomato, and shrimp (well, one shrimp). Coulda used some salt. Then a delicious duo of cold soups, cucumber and then gazpacho in shot glasses. Our entree was turkey steak (?) with mashed potatoes and a carrot puree. The chef prepared everything himself, for about 50 people, on a griddle in the back. I was impressed. Dessert was traditional Dutch yogurt with strawberry sauce and then creme brulee. The cruise lasted until 10:30, when the sun had just set. It was really beautiful. But also probably the only romantic dinner cruise where you can see prostitutes from the boat.

Afterward we walked through the city and saw some musicians performing. They were really good, a singer from Ireland and a guitarist from Spain. This city is so beautiful. The museums are amazing, and the people (mostly) are lovely. There are plenty of reasons to visit here that have nothing to do with drugs or prostitution. It’s too bad that’s all anyone thinks about.

Finally, we walked back to our hotel. We were both ready to go home and sad to leave. See you soon!

Final thoughts:
- Make sure to check out the gables on the buildings.
- If you want coffee, find a cafe, not a coffee shop.
- We should bike more.
- Cheese is good.
- Cows and sheep should be in pastures, not cages.
- Some people are mean for no reason.

and then the Eiffel Tower in the distance. It’s tall and brown, kind of pretty but kind of ugly at the same time. We walked to the tower (sorry, no pictures of us pinching the top or kissing in front of it),

and then north across the river. We walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and down along the Champs-Elysees.

It was really a beautiful summer night, and it stays light very late here. We never actually got to see any of the monuments lit up because we were never out that late.

Next was the Louvre, which is an enormous palace surrounded by gardens. Behind it is Place de la Concorde, which is a big open space where the major roads all convene, and you have a great view of the monuments all around.

From there we walked back down to Notre Dame, which is on an island in the middle of the river. It’s an interesting building, very different from the other cathedrals we’ve seen. The west facade was built first, in the 1200s. It is white stone and has two square towers, a rose window, and three large arches over the entrances.

The nave, or body of the church (I borrowed “Pillars of the Earth,” a book about building cathedrals, from Christine), extends to the east and is rounded on the end. This is the part of the building with the gothic decorations and the flying buttresses (essentially braces put on the outside of a building to reinforce the structure against the wind). It’s darker gray stone and much different from the front. On the transept crossing (all cathedrals are shaped like crosses; the smaller part that goes north-south is called the transept) is the one big, spiky, gothic spire, that was put there after a smaller one was damaged in the revolution. We walked around the gardens surrounding the cathedral until a guard told us it was closing time. We found two beers and went to sit near the river as the sun set behind Notre Dame.

There were lots of people doing the same thing, especially groups of teenagers. I kept thinking this would be an awesome place for a first date, although maybe you would think that was cliche if you were French.

We found a restaurant nearby in a beautiful old building, the inside felt like a fancy cave, with stone walls, wooden floors, dark wooden furniture with red upholstery and rugs, a fireplace, and wooden beams in the ceiling, all lit by candlelight. I had my first escargot: love it. They’re like mussels but meatier. The garlic butter doesn’t hurt, either. Then I had the salade nicoise, which they serve with rice. Charlie started with chevre salad (man, they love goat cheese around here), then steak in a pepper sauce, and then the most amazing chocolate cake, like dark mousse on a super crispy crust. I managed to spill our bottle of house wine, and the waiter refilled it (to the top!) and just smiled at me. It was a very lovely meal.

But a late one, and we didn’t get home until after midnight. I was a little worried about the trains, but they apparently run at least every five minutes pretty much all day long.

The next day we did the Louvre. All of it. Till we were walking around like zombies and not actually seeing anything we were looking at. The tour groups were everywhere. And apparently can’t read the signs that say, “Don’t touch the art.” And they take pictures of both the works of art and the cards that explain them. I often wonder who it is that has to sit through that slide show.

Lunch was at the cafeteria there (pizza and salad), which recharged us a little. The place is just enormous. Three wings, 3-4 floors each, paintings, sculptures, ancient civilizations, objets d’art (which were old-style living quarters, I think). We cruised through the last floor, Flemish and Northern European paintings, and ran for the door.

We sat at a cafe and rested for awhile and decided to try to see Notre Dame. Our museum passes said we got free access to the “Tours,” but I didn’t know that meant “tours” (English) or “towers” (French). We got there too late to find out. Most things close here around 6, but luckily the Musee D’Orsay is open late on Thursdays. This was definitely my favorite museum. Instead of endless pictures of Jesus and Mary and saints, this was later work by Monet, Degas, Cezanne, van Gogh, and Renoir. Landscapes and portraits and still lifes. And in a digestible number. It’s also a beautiful building.

It was really a lot of museuming for one day, but I’m glad we didn’t stop after the Louvre (and if you’re planning on going to see it, pick just a floor or two; after awhile all the sculptures look the same.)

We went back to our hotel and had dinner down the street at what maybe was an Indian place. Don’t really know. I ordered a salad with chicken and guacamole, and I’m pretty sure it was in a curry sauce. Charlie had a croque monsieur, and we split a chevre tartine (which really was just goat cheese on bread, delicious, but not a tartine). They also claimed to have cocktails, so we decided to treat ourselves. Charlie had a White Russian that was half whipped cream. I had a “vodka martini” that was at least half sweet vermouth. Or juice or something. Oh, well.

We got a little bit of a late start the next morning but finally made it to Versailles around eleven. It’s the palace about half-hour outside of Paris that Louis XIV decided to live at (instead of the Louvre).

We stood in line for an hour and a half (our passes got us past the equally long ticket line, but you still had to wait to get in). Out in the sun. I guess this is how tourists spend a lot of their time, but it was the longest line we’d encountered so far, and it was annoying. And then we got inside. You walk through the palace, restored to look like the old living quarters of the royal family. It was wall-to-wall people, sauntering, stopping wherever they felt like, taking pictures of EVERYTHING, tour groups blocking doorways. It was hot and stuffy and really unpleasant. But pretty.

It was worth it once we got out of the palace and into the gardens. They’re massive. Full of fountains and pathways and pools, with one gigantic, cross-shaped pool in the center, where people rent boats and paddle around. People walking around eating ice cream.

On the east side of the garden are the Grand and Petit Trianon and more gardens, which make up what used to be Marie Antoinette’s estate. We had sandwiches at a shop there (chicken and veggies, salmon and cream cheese) and quickly toured the (only slightly less crowded) two palaces and the gardens. How many palaces does one royal family need? The people were starving and she was gilding the walls in her fourth bedroom.

We got back to Paris and continued on the train to Roland Garros, where they were playing the men’s semifinals. You can’t see anything. Can’t get into the grounds without a ticket, which you can only buy online. And the site doesn’t work very well. We at least saw Center Court!

We walked down to a metro station near our hotel for dinner. We enjoyed another prix fix meal (America needs more of those). I started with “country-style” pate, then quiche with tuna, onions, sun-dried tomatoes, and a salad (all things women like, the waiter told me), and then honey and yogurt for dessert. Charlie had goat cheese salad to start, a delicious grilled steak and fries, and then cherry tart. It was a delicious meal in a fun, non-touristy atmosphere that made us glad our hotel was a little ways out.

We had big plans for the next day. We got to Notre Dame right away at ten because the guard had told us that was the only way to avoid hours of lines. An hour and a half later, we entered the “Tours,” which turned out to be a hike up 422 stairs in a small spiral staircase in the north tower. You’re up there in a single-file line on a stone ledge surrounded by gargoyles (and a wire cage). Then you go into the belfry and then all the way up to the very top.

And after all that you didn’t even get to see the inside. So we stood in another line, luckily fast-moving, to go in. We happened to be there right at noon, and there was a mass starting. All these people singing and praying in the midst of gawking tourists taking pictures, not-really-whispering, and clinking their coins into the various vending machines for medals, candles, etc. The church itself was large but not necessarily spectacular. Others have been more impressive.

We walked down the street, still on the island, to Sainte-Chapelle, a chapel with amazing stained glass. There are 15 windows, each telling a story through its many detailed panes, starting with Adam and Eve.

For lunch we stopped at a boat on the Seine that served crepes named after jazz musicians. I don’t remember the names, but we had curried chicken and ham, egg, and cheese. Another beautiful lunch on the water.

Following a course on the south side on the river, we walked past a bunch of churches. We arrived at the Pantheon, a temple that has alternated between religious and secular purposes depending on who was in charge.

Since the late 1800s, hanging in the center is Foucault’s Pendulum, the first demonstration of the Earth’s rotation.

Underneath is a crypt containing the remains of dozens of important French politicians, philosophers, artists, and scientists. I love this place.

Our route ended at Les Invalides. It’s a big complex of buildings originally built as a hospital and retirement home for veteran’s (which I guess part of it still is.) They built a chapel for them, and eventually made it into huge church with a golden dome you can see from any view in the city. Under the dome is a crypt holding the remains of Napoleon. A lot of other military men are interred there, as well.

Napoleon gets the biggest sarcophagus.

Some of the connected buildings house military museums. We saw the history of the French military, which displayed a lot of swords and guns and uniforms, and also explained the history following the French revolution. It’s funny how you only remember some things from high school history. We did not realize that Napoleon was the first leader following the revolution. He was not in Les Miserables. Then the WWI and WWII museum (another interesting viewpoint). Then a museum of armor and weapons.

Then a museum of relief maps, which we sort of went into by accident. And then we were all museumed out.

Courtney and Jason happened to be in town, so we met them at their hotel for wine and bread and cheese, and then had dinner (salads) at a cafe nearby. It was a long day for everyone.

The next day was the French Open finals. We had heard you could get tickets to watch it on a jumbo-tron on Court 1. I saw that the match was at eleven, so we went over there around ten. We walked around the entire stadium again, with the guard at every entrance telling us you could only buy them online. But we had tried it online and couldn’t find anything. We eventually decided they were sold out and left to try to find a place downtown to watch it. We found some promising bars, but none of them had the game on. When we finally asked, a waitress told us it was on at two. So we walked around, did some shopping, found a place at two and asked the waiter to turn the game on. He just looked at us and said of course he would, when it was on, at three. So we spent all day chasing this game and ended up watching it at home. But not before a delicious lunch. I had more escargot, duck a l’orange (a little dry, but with delicious cheesy potatoes au gratin), and creme brûlée. Charlie had onion soup, beef bourguignon, and ice cream. It was a cute little “traditional” French bistro on a street full of “traditional” French bistros. I still thought it was good.

Nadal won. We took the metro back in and had a bottle of wine while watching the sun set over Notre Dame along the Seine.

For our last meal in Paris, we went to a place near the restaurant we liked so much the first night. We sat outside with a view of Notre Dame. We split escargot to start (yes, Charlie liked them) and champagne. I had fois gras with toast and apple jam, unbelievably tender and flavorful beef bourguignon, and creme brûlée (yes, I realize this is essentially the same as lunch, but it was WAY better). Charlie had a salad, delicious steak in red wine sauce, and sorbet to finish. By this point it had started raining, but we stayed outside to enjoy the view. But then it started pouring, and then thundering, so we moved to a higher patio, still outside but more covered. From there, we watched the lightning flashing across the sky over Notre Dame. The food was amazing, the service the best we’d had, and the atmosphere was pretty much once-in-a-lifetime. A perfect way to end it.

Final thoughts:
- Paris has public transportation figured out. Very easy to get around.
- I am a lot more afraid of heights than originally anticipated.
- I can see now why these people eat snails. Actually pretty tasty.
- Digital cameras are annoying. Everyone has one and think they’re expert photographers. They walk around snapping everything they see, not really looking at whats in front of them. Sad.
- Paris is for lovers.

Along the beach is the Boulevard de Etats-Unis (U.S.) and a wide boardwalk. Hotels line one side, and the other is the beach, alternating chairs and umbrellas with waterfront restaurants.

We walked down to a square full of seafood restaurants recommended by our concierge. We each did a lap (it’s easier to avoid the sales pitches when you’re alone) and settled on a place with a cart out front displaying fish and seafood on ice. We had the seafood paella. I know, not really French, but delicious nonetheless. And then we watched three small Asian women down an ENORMOUS seafood platter (€104, if you were wondering), and a huge pan of paella. Unreal.

We planned to spend the next day at art museums. We walked up a long, tree-lined street away from the touristy areas. We finally got to the Chagall museum, only to find out it’s closed on Tuesdays. Disappointed but undeterred, we hiked up a ways farther to the Matisse museum. Looking back, we probably should have expected that it, too, was closed. At least it was near a church with a crazy cemetery full of crypts, plus a small garden and some Roman ruins. We took a less-than-picturesque way home (people, pick up your dog’s poop!), which eventually brought us to the river. Which was dry. We walked along it until we got to the Museum of Modern Art, which was free, but we were tired and hungry and mistrustful of museums, so we skipped it in search of some food. We found sandwiches (tuna and egg on baguette and chicken panini) and had our first crepe, Nutella. I don’t get the crepe thing. Charlie really likes them, but I kinda think they’re just mushy.

We had decided we were done walking and wanted to see a movie. After some translation errors and a lot of walking, we found a nondubbed American movie, The Tree of Life with Brad Pitt and Sean Penn. We couldn’t figure out why we hadn’t heard of it. But we figured it out.

I’m not sure how to describe this movie. It apparently was the only American film to win at Cannes. It started with fragmented scenes of a family finding out their son was dead, mixed with shots of trees. Then, I kid you not, twenty minutes of “Planet Earth”-style nature shots, lava and sea creatures and moonrises and, finally, dinosaurs. Then, when we were ready to walk out, it went back to the plot and was pretty engrossing. Until the end, when I felt like throwing something at the screen. Maybe you should see it…

We wandered around in a daze and went back to the room to watch tennis for awhile. We talked about the movie and I realized Charlie understood it a lot better than I did. After he explained it, we both liked it a lot more. Enough to maybe get into “cinema” a little more.

We headed back down to the coast and Charlie played blackjack in one of the casinos. He’ll tell you about it sometime. We went back to the restaurant hub and found another place specializing in fresh fish. I had fish soup (I was hoping for bouillabaisse but it was pretty much just fish stock, good cheese and croutons, though), grilled salmon and monkfish in saffron sauce, and ile flottante (meringue on a bowl of creme anglaise). Charlie had one last order of mussels, red snapper in tarragon sauce, and sorbet. The fish was very good, but the sauces were so rich it made it a little difficult to eat. I mean, I’m all for butter, but even I have a limit. We were next to two large tables of Chinese tourists, again with enormous seafood platters and paella, who were really excited about cheersing each other. Before every drink. But they couldn’t remember the word, so every time they would stand up, one guy would remind them, “it’s ‘salut’” and then they’d all repeat it a bunch of times to each other and then officially they’d all yell, “Salut!” Every five minutes.

The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast of pastries and espresso and made our way to the airport. We were pretty bummed we didn’t get to the Chagall museum, but the crazy movie experience almost made up for it. Nice is nice, but it’s maybe too big to be quaint and charming and too small to have a lot to offer. Somehow it might be better to spend a relaxing week here instead of two busy days.

Final thoughts
- You can’t throw a croissant without hitting a croissant around here.
- Frenchies are smelly.
- No art on Tuesdays
- Casinos here suck

But we should be used to the initial discomfort by now. Our hotel was just a few blocks from the station, with a very nice staff, wifi, air conditioning and a refrigerator! We started to feel better and got dressed for the beach. It was past five when we got there, but still sunny and warm. The beach is in a cove just south of the big marina, mostly surrounded by rocks. The water is unbelievably blue and the coast lined with enormous white yachts.

We found dinner at a cafe along one of the main drags, salad with goat cheese for me and a chef salad for Charlie. The waiter didn’t like us. You sit down, they give you the menu, and then they want you to order 45 seconds later. And you try to order in French but it apparently annoys them. Then, when you want the bill, you have to jump up and down to get their attention. Same with trying to get change.

We went home and changed and then back out to look around. Antibes is a resort town. It seems like a lot of British people vacation here, and there are several British pubs and a grocery store. There’s a lot of shopping, mostly clothes and shoes. Lots of linen, I think because it’s cool in this weather. There’s a strip of restaurants just south of the harbor, with all types of cuisine, and all pretty pricey. People eat late here, so the place starts to come alive around nine. The championship soccer game was on, so we stopped at a place called “Beer n Curry” to watch it. We had some fresh and fried spring rolls and Dim Sum. They also had curry, noodles, and sushi. Odd, but a nice change. Barcelona won and we went home.

The next day we started at the Picasso museum. I loved it. It’s in an old stone castle, white inside and out, right along the beach. Picasso actually worked here for a few years in the 50′s. The pieces were amazing, and there’s a little sculpture garden on the patio overlooking the ocean.

It was the final day of the Grand Prix at Monte Carlo. Cannes, Antibes, Nice, and Monaco are along the train line on the coast, west to east. We got on the noon train so we could get to Monaco before the race started at two. When we stopped in Nice, people piled into the train until there was almost no room to expand your lungs. Then the conductor told us there was a traffic jam and we couldn’t leave the station for ten more minutes. It’s a good thing French people smell so good. Then two more stops (with MORE people getting on), and finally the conductor announced we were full. And the track ahead was out of order so we had to stay there another ten minutes. I was crushed against the wall where a folding seat was digging into my legs, and Charlie was pushed up next to a guy with unfortunate hand placement…

We finally made it to Monaco and hurried off the train. We had planned to walk around, see the sights, maybe go into a casino. But not only is the course gated, every street has barricades up, so you have to squat or jump or peer through little holes to even get a glimpse of a car. And you even need a ticket to get into the casinos (“No badge, no access!”). The city looked cool, but we really couldn’t see much of it. We went into a ridiculous mall, walked around some fancy hotels, fancier cars,

and plugged our ears when the cars went by. Back at the train station we actually had a pretty good view of the race.

We watched for awhile, had a tomato and cheese baguette, and went home on an empty train (the race wasn’t over yet).

We found an amazing market back in Antibes–produce, cured meats, cheese, flowers, bins of spices, butchers, fish and seafood. I think we’ll retire here.

We got in a quick sun-and-swim and then changed. We ate dinner at a place on the main square. We had calamari the size of onion rings followed by salads. We had planned to go to The Absinthe Bar, but it was closed by the time we got there. So we just went home.

We spent the next morning at the beach. Probably should have worn some sunscreen.

Lunch was at the cafe next to our hotel, our first croque monsieur (and madame for me) with salad. And another waiter who didn’t like us.

This is one of my favorite places so far. White stone and red roofs, flowers everywhere, great seafood, and no crowds. I will need to actually learn French, and make a whole lot of money, and then the grandkids can come visit us here.

Final thoughts:
-You can’t throw a bar of soap without making a frenchman smell better around here.
- I’m pretty sure we will never see as many incredible cars (outside of a dealership) as we saw in Monte Carlo.
- I will buy and captain a boat in my lifetime. My love for water, and particularly the ocean is stronger than it has ever been.
- Sunscreen is important. Though you might think you’re tan, sunburn happens to everyone, even tan people, and it is unpleasant.

We had spoken with Enrica, the woman renting us our room, the day before, and she told us her building was near the train station. Turns out you can actually see the room from the train station. We were very relieved to have such a smooth moving day. She showed us to our room, a three-room apartment on the third floor, beautifully decorated with mirrors, tile floors, wrought iron, and antique furniture, with a view of the busy street below. Vernazza is one of the smaller cities, pretty much just one street from the station to the marina. The buildings are 3-4 story stucco in pink, yellow, blue and orange, all with green shutters.

We headed straight for the beach, where, despite the blue sky and hot weather, we could have sworn it was lightly raining.

We had lunch at a cafe on the pier: a salad and a pizza with ham, artichokes, and olives. We decided we wanted to stay at the beach, so we went back and got our books and found a place to relax and read. The water was cold but not unbearable. The beach itself is on a marina that’s pretty well-protected from the open sea. Some people were climbing on the rocks and jumping into the water out past the marina, but we weren’t so brave.

For dinner we climbed up the tower at the end of the marina to a seafood restaurant with an amazing view. We shared mussels in wine and butter to start, and then Charlie had Spaghetti al Bruno (we found out Bruno is the owner; the pasta has mussels, squid and clams), and I had the fried seafood platter, with fish, anchovies, shrimp, and calamari. It was fantastic. Made us realize maybe we shouldn’t be ordering mussels in Minnesota….

The next morning we ate Enrica’s breakfast (packaged croissants and toast, delicious coffee), and headed out to do some hiking. The path from Vernazza to the second city, Corniglia, had been closed the day before, but was open now, so we started there. It’s 4 km and is supposed to take a few hours. It was definitely steeper than we expected, but we didn’t mind the exercise. The views are amazing. It wasn’t too crowded, which had been warned about, and overall was a lovely way to start the day.

Corniglia is set on a hill. We walked down a huge flight of stairs, aware with every step we’d have to climb back up at some point, to get to the beach. We found a beautiful spot, with only a few other people around, where we stopped to eat sandwiches and go for a swim. The beach was all rocks, which made it a little difficult to get in, especially when the water is soooo cold.

The path from Corniglia to the next city, Manarola, was closed (and that was fine with us, as it’s listed as a 1km hike that takes over two hours), so we waited for the train to take us there. We walked around Manarola and then took the last path, a flat 1km-long boardwalk called Via del
amore to the last town, Riomaggiore.

We stopped for focaccia, (onion for me, tomato for Charlie, both delicious), and found the beach. It was a ways away from the town center, pretty crowded, and entirely made of rocks.

We both got in the water and swam for awhile, but instead of the amazingly clear blue water like the other beaches, this seemed a little cloudy with suntan oil. We walked back to Manarola and took the train home to Vernazza. We had another seafood dinner in the harbor. First, the seafood antipasti, with 5 kinds of seafood, including anchovies, octopus salad (warm and delicious; I’ve been looking for it ever since), and calamari. Then Charlie had pasta with shrimp and fish, and I had Ligurian-style cod with a tomato sauce on top of potatoes. Panna cotta with strawberries to finish. All very good.
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The bar across the street had been closed the night before, but it was open now. Mostly American clientele, and they drank into the night. Combined with the frequent trains flying by within 100 yards of our window, it was not a peaceful night.

The next morning was cloudy with occasional raindrops, which was actually a welcome break. We hiked the path north to Monterosso, about 3km and 2 hours. This time we passed a lot more people. Mostly Americans, British, and Australians. It totally cracked me up that all these English-speaking tourists were doing their very best to say “Buon Giorno” and “Grazie” to each other as they passed. We did our best Italian “Prego” and tried to look native.

It was another steep climb, and this one had a lot more passages that were narrow and rocky (and without railings). The nice thing is that the uphill is first, and the second half is pretty easy.

Monterosso is the biggest of the five cities, with lots of restaurants and little shops. The beaches are much bigger, stretching along the entire length, with lots of beach chairs and umbrellas. With the cloudy weather and rough seas, the beaches were all empty. We split lunch at a focacceria: margherita pizza, vegetable focaccia (spinach), and rice and cheese focaccia. I could eat this stuff all day long.

We took the train back to Vernazza and rested for the afternoon. I did a little shopping (food stuff–get ready for anchovies!), and hurried back home in the rain. Once it let up, we stopped and got more focaccia (pesto and cheese; tomato, cheese and anchovy) and a piece of farinata, which is a big flat pancake of wheat and salt, as far as I can tell. I think sometimes they put toppings on it. We took the food out onto the point in the marina and sat on the rocks to watch the waves and the storm. It was mesmerizing. I find the sea almost more beautiful with wind and clouds than on a clear sunny day (there’s a metaphor in there…).

We climbed back up the path toward Corniglia and found a restaurant with another amazing view.

We started with mussels marinara, then I had lasagna al forno and Charlie had spaghetti with mussels and prawns. The prawns are really a lot of work to get any meat. I think I still have tomato sauce under my fingernails. We hiked back down, posted some blogs, and went back to the beach to watch the waves in the dark.

Cinque Terre is another place “discovered” by Rick Steves. Everyone here is carrying his book. The paths were full of bucket listers and the beaches were full of young American girls or couples. I wonder what this place was like twenty years ago. We loved the hiking and the food. Our room was adorable, but the noise at night was tough. Swimming in the Mediterranean is amazing, but the beaches are rocky and a little difficult to navigate. The views are unbeatable. It makes me wonder where else we could go along the Italian Riviera.

Final thoughts:
- Put this on your bucket list but watch out for all the bucket listers.
- Even if you think you don’t like them, try the mussels. I (charlie) was never a big fan, but I couldn’t get enough of the little buggers.
- The hikes are amazing, full of outstanding views, but proper shoes are a must. There’s a lot of up and down and we saw several folks in flip flops that did not look happy.
- If you have one, come with a significant other. This place oozes romance.

Florence feels newer than Siena, and even than parts of Rome. It’s full of medieval-looking buildings, big and square with bars over the windows. Our hotel was on the Piazza della Republicca, surrounded by shopping, both high-end stores and rows of street vendors. And it’s another place full of tourists. I swear you hear more English than Italian.

It was another hot and sunny day and we went looking for lunch. We were turned off by the aggressiveness of waiters shouting at us, trying to get us to come to their restaurants. We walked away from the Piazza and ended up at the Palazzo Vecchio, where we went inside briefly. We walked past the Uffizi gallery to the Ponte Vecchio (a bridge full of jewelry stores.)

We finally found a restaurant along the river, where I had my usual salad (tuna, tomatoes, mozzarella, and olives) and Charlie had Penne Bolognese and swordfish with salad. The fish was good (but tiny), and the rest was just ok.

Since we were on the other side of the river, we walked over to the Pitti Palazzo. It was closed on Mondays, but we went into the Boboli garden, an enormous garden built by the Medicis, the family who pretty much ran Tuscany for most of the last 1000 years. It was full of fountains and sculptures, and a Cypress promenade that leads down to the Island Fountain.

We also saw the porcelain museum, which was pretty much old china.

We walked down a path to the botanical gardens, which weren’t quite in bloom yet but still beautiful. There were vineyards and an orchard and a beautiful view of the city.

On the way home we visited Florence’s Duomo, which, like the one in Siena, is very colorful. It’s also gigantic. The walls are striped in green and pink marble, and the front is gothic with pink tinges.

We wanted to have dinner away from the tourist center, so we found a restaurant closer to the train station. We started with crostini alla Toscani (chicken liver), and then Charlie had cheese ravioli and an amazing peppery beef stew. I had artichoke risotto. There was a table full of Americans sitting along the window, loud and drunk, with an “Italian” (i.e. New Yorker) guy at the end harassing the water about how he wasn’t bringing him what he had ordered. The owner saw us rolling our eyes at them while he refilled our glasses and said something in Italian that I’m sure was very wise.

We enjoyed our good night’s sleep and got to breakfast early. Another great meal of meat, cheese, bread, cereal, juice, fruit, and coffee. We had reservations at the Accademia at 9am. I was pretty pleased with myself as we walked by the blocks-long line of reservationless people waiting to get in. The museum has a strict no-picture policy, which I’m sure is harder to enforce now that everyone has a camera in their phone. We watched an American guy and his girlfriend get into an almost physical fight with a museum staffer who tried to take his phone (which, though he denied, he was obviously using to take a picture of the David). He stormed off yelling, “You’re terrible! You are terrible!”

Other than that, we liked the museum. The David is pretty spectacular: huge. perfectly proportioned, and incredibly detailed. The rest of the collection is renaissance-era sculptures and paintings, commissioned by either the church or wealthy families, and all religious in nature. You see a lot of “Coronation of Mary,” and “Adoration of the Christ,” and “Mary and Jesus and miscellaneous saints,” and “Annunciation,” all made for altars at important churches and cathedrals. The other pieces we found striking were called “The Prisoners,” commissioned of Michelangelo by a pope who wanted a bunch of marble sculptures for his tomb. The pope died and they were never finished, so they provide a glimpse into how Michelangelo worked. It’s amazing to see his chisel marks, to see which parts he carved first, how he might have strategized about turning a block of stone into a body. There are a few that are posed as though they are struggling to get out, like they were trapped inside the stone all along, which is maybe how Michelangelo saw it, too.

Afterward, we did some window shopping and caught a glimpse of what looked like a market. We walked inside and found the most beautiful place (arranged like Midtown Global Market) full of butchers and fishmongers and produce stands. There were enormous cuts of beef and pork, chickens with their heads and some feathers still on, rabbits split in two. Plus beautiful fish and octopus and squids. Entire counters of tripe and stomach and nerves, the stuff I’ll be looking at under a microscope soon. And delis with cured meats and cheeses and vegetables.

I’m almost glad I didn’t have a kitchen, because trying to make a decision would have driven me nuts. For lunch, I had a tuna, white bean, and arugula salad and Charlie had a piece of focaccia pizza.

Our next appointment was at the Uffizi Gallery at 1:30. It is the art collection of the Medicis, gathered over hundreds of years. It’s in a U-shaped building, with the galleries along the side of each length. The hallways are filled with marble sculptures and busts, and portraits of what I assume are the various Medicis hang from the wall. The galleries are arranged according to time period, with most of the stuff being religious-themed paintings from 1300-1500, the time of the Florentine “masters.” We saw two DaVincis, which even I was impressed by. Other famous works are Botticelli (“Birth of Venus” and “Spring”), as well as pieces by Raphael, Titian, and even Rembrandt. After 2 1/2 hours, we decided our brains were full.

Then, our first “celebrity” sighting. On one of the main drags, we spotted what looked like a disturbance. As we got closer, we saw that what everyone was staring at was the cast of Jersey Shore, grinning like idiots, in a pharmacy. I am not a fan and Lisa is more aggressive in her thinking, but it was like a car crash…can’t look away. I imagine that is why people watch the show.

We stopped for gelato, did some laundry, and stayed inside away from the heat for awhile. We walked over to the cathedral of San Croce, where Michelangelo, DaVinci, Machiavelli, and Galileo (among others) are buried. The building is clearly very old, brown brick with very small windows, but the business end was redone to look just like the Duomo, with pink and green and white marble. Like maybe people would just look at the front and not realize the entire church behind it doesn’t match.

Dinner was Florentine beef at a restaurant recommended by our concierge. We started with crostini (tomatoes and more chicken liver, which we’ve probably had enough of), and then Charlie had gnocchi with sausage in a truffle cream sauce, my new favorite dish of the trip. I had papardelle with wild boar ragu. As my dad would say, it was like the boar walked through with rubber boots on, but maybe that was the intention. Still good. Then we had the Bistecca Florentine, 700g and still cold in the middle. Good, but not as good as the Tagliata in Siena. On the side we had creamy white beans in a tomato, garlic, and sage sauce. And then Charlie bought a rose from a glowy guy.

We really liked Florence, and not just because of the food. Even though it’s choking with tourists, so much art and history (and science!) happened here, it just feels, well, important, I guess. And then there’s the food.

Final points:
- Apparently, if enough glowy guys come around, you end up buying something. Especially when your wife looks stunning in the fading light of the Tuscan sun and a should have a pretty rose.
- Grass-fed beef = Good beef
- This bread is missing some zest. I like salt. Sorry, Mom.
- Michelangelo had crazy skills. Even the pieces he didn’t finish are better than most I’ve seen.
- Having been to both places now, I agree with The Steves when he said that Florence is the heart of Tuscany and Siena is its soul. The Steves is deep.

Siena is not big. It takes only an afternoon to canvas, which is what we did the first night. The main attraction is the Duomo, which is an enormous cathedral in the middle of town. It’s so big it feels like it’s overflowing its space, pouring out between the other buildings around it. It was the first cathedral we’d seen that is full of color, like an Easter egg. The sides are striped in a dark green marble, and the front has pink accents and colorful paintings. It didn’t seem to be open for visitors, but I imagine the inside was just as colorful.

We also saw San Francesco, San Domenico, and a number of other very old and beautiful churches. That seems like the thing to do in Siena. See churches…and picturesque views of Tuscany. It is a walled town, and the views across the hills from the top of the wall are exactly what you’d expect.

We ate dinner at a place we had staked out during our exploration, which was really delicious. We shared the polenta crostini sampler (two liver, two tomato, two olive), we then shared the porcini risotto, and then I had the beef rib stew and Lisa had the fried rabbit. And of course…plenty of house wine. All things delicious.

Our room was on the third floor, which means it gets hot. But people stay out late in Siena, so the streets are noisy. It wasn’t quite as bad as the last night in Rome, but there were some revelers with drums at one point (we think there was a festival earlier) and some drunk Americans loudly discussing how they could subvert our hotel’s 1 o’clock curfew.

The next morning, we woke up, found an overpriced, not very delicious breakfast, and saw some more churches. Not sure of what else to do, we found a nearby info stand and checked out a few options. One of which was a Brunello wine tour. We asked around about them, received positive reviews, and eventually decided to go for it. This was the right move.

Before we left we had some disappointing panini from what looked like a fancy deli: too big slices of white bread, tomato, mozzarella, proscuitto. Coulda done with some mayo. We sat and ate it on the Piazza del Campo with the lunch crowd, watching a little boy chase pigeons like it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

We joined two other American couples on a picturesque van ride south to the region of Montalcino, which is where Brunello is made. It’s part of the larger Chianti region, and the wine is made from Sangiovese grapes. So I guess it’s technically a Chianti, but “Brunello di Montalcino” is a special designation for wine made with sangiovese grosso grapes (known as “the beast” to grow), and aged for a minimum of five years (three in barrels, two in the bottle). We got to the first winery, which was founded in 1996, and the sommelier showed us their high-tech production center, where they ferment the grapes in 17 different vats (according to the hectare in which they were grown), all while being electronically monitored for alcohol content, acidity, temperature, and sugar content. Then the three head honchoes sit down and taste and decide how to mix the vats to make the best wine. It goes into barrels, then bottles. We sat down at a long table with another vanload of American couples (all at least 30 years older than us) and tried three kinds of wine, plus bread and local Pecorino cheese. The second wine, which Charlie liked the best, turned out to be one of their best vintages ever (2006). And $200/bottle. We felt pretty fancy.

We arrived at the second vineyard just as another tour group full of Americans was finishing their tasting. We immediately met Mario, who has worked at the vineyard his whole life. He offered us a glass of white wine as an apology for having to wait for the first group to leave. He was about 85 years old, wore a full suit and fedora despite the heat, and spoke no English (or at least pretended). This winery was much smaller than the first and still did everything by the old methods. They also produce Brunello di Montalcino, as well as a few other blends. Mario brought us inside and told us (through our guide as an interpreter) about the old times (and made fun of Lisa’s “modern” dress).

He then treated us to a tasting of four wines, plus grappa and then a sweet dessert wine. And we had more bread and pecorino, plus salami and proscuitto. He refilled everyone’s glasses multiple times, told stories and gave toasts (through our guide as an interpreter), and seemed to love having us there. Charlie again identified the priciest wine as the best, and we bought a few bottles for the road.

We’re so glad we went. We had a great time, and one of the couples told us it was the best wine tour they’d done (and they’d done a lot). Plus, they told us about a great restaurant for dinner. We got there around 9 and had no problem getting a table. I ordered spinach gnochetti with sausage and tarragon, and Charlie had walnut and cheese-filled tortelloni in an amazing cream sauce. For our segundo Charlie ordered Tagliata, which is a grilled, sliced beef served over arugula. I’m not sure what they did to the beef, but it was incredible. It was so good, in fact, that we can’t remember what I had. Maybe a mixed salad.

Final thoughts:
- How could you possibly need this many churches inside a small, walled city? You can’t throw a bottle of Chianti without hitting a church around here.
- Charlie apparently has an excellent wine palate.
- Panini just means sandwich. You have to ask for it grilled.
- It’s all about the Campo.
- Tuscany looks just like the pictures, but more beautiful.

We took a train to downtown and found our hotel from there. It was very hot and very sunny, and we took not a very direct route to get to the hotel. Getting to a new city is always a little unsettling, since you don’t know how the hotel or the transportation will work out, but this seemed especially uncomfortable. There was litter everywhere, dog poop along the sidewalks, and graffiti over all the doors and windows. Plus people were driving like proverbial bats out of hell. Crossing the street requires a deep breath and a leap of faith. As usual, it got better after we got to the hotel, they had our reservation, and the room turned out to be very nice.

We dropped off our stuff and walked toward the Colosseum. We stopped at a restaurant (okay, it was called “Pastarito,” but it was really good!) on the way in. I had a salad with tomatoes, carrots, fresh mozzarella, olives, and tuna. I swear the carrots are sweeter here, like candy. Charlie had cheese tortellini with Bolognese sauce. The best part: I had tap wine. Super cheap.

We bought tickets and went into the Colosseum. It’s a magnificent place. It was used for gladiator fights, but also for fights between animals, and for enormous “hunts,” where they brought in exotic animals and the crowds (up to 60,000) watched men hunt them. We were there at a time of day with perfect light for pictures. We also learned that Nero was a pretty big dbag.

It was a beautiful place, but we were confronted for the first time with enormous tourist crowds. Everywhere. The worst part is that the big tour groups tend to stop in various important places, which creates the impression of a line when there is none. You have to learn when you need to wait and when you have to just push through.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at an amazing little grocery and got some snacks and a bottle of wine. We didn’t have a way to open it, but the night guy at the hotel was ready with a corkscrew and an opinion (and he took a glass in payment). He also made several gestures that we did not understand. Anyone know what sticking your thumb in your dimple and wiggling your hand means? We sat and relaxed on the garden patio outside our room.

We walked around the neighborhood, which seemed to be relatively free of tourists. The buildings here are stone, mostly yellow, orange, and salmon-colored, with dark shutters. The surrounding hillsides are covered in Cypress trees, which makes for a very striking landscape. Plus there are palm trees, and every rooftop is covered with gardens. It feels almost tropical, but without water.

We ate dinner at a pizzeria nearby.

We started with fried calamari, “pub crab” (fried crab claw), and artichoke bruschetta. Then we split a pizza with sausage and broccolini. As good as it sounds.

We woke up in the morning and had our breakfast, cappuccino and filled croissants, at the cafe in the park across the street. We walked to the train station and caught one of the open-air tour buses over to the Vatican. We stood in line for only about half an hour to get through security. We walked around St. Peter’s Basilica, which is pretty astounding. It’s the first old church we’ve seen with color: red and black marble, paintings on the walls.

We walked around the corner to the Vatican museum, which includes the Sistine Chapel. You can’t take pictures inside, but Charlie got some good ones on the way in.

The rest of the museum was a lot of marble sculptures. So much that it almost feels like they found so many statues they had to put them somewhere. There are rooms full of bodies without heads, and rooms full of heads without bodies. An interesting mix of Roman gods and Christian figures.

We passed a kid on the way out demanding food: “I am starving! My body is without food right now!” We felt the same way. We found a pasta place. We split the bruschetta sampler (roasted pepper spread, melted cheese and speck, tomato and mozzarella), spaghetti carbonara, and a salad with speck, mozzarella, and apple. Our waitress was learning English and enjoyed saying, “Thank you very much.”

We got back on the bus and got off near the Piazza Navone. We saw the street performers there and got some gelato. We walked to the campo de fiori, but they were already tearing down all the market stalls. We stopped at the Pantheon, which is an old pagan temple repurposed for, what else, a church for Mary. It’s interesting to see the very old parts next to the newer marble. While we were there a choir came in and sang. Lovely.

We made our way back to the area around the Colosseum and entered the Roman forum/Palatine. To be honest, we didn’t really know what we were looking at to start. Turns out, it’s all the oldest ruins in Rome. The Roman Forum is the center of the town, where the senate and other government building were. There are also a lot of remains of various temples, both to Roman and Christian gods, some repurposed from one to the other. The site is amazing both because of the size and amount of the ruins, but also because it feels like a big playground. You can sit down on old marble columns or carved ledges. It’s amazing to think about what happened at this spot over so many years. And now there are beautiful red flowers growing everywhere.

The Palatine is one of the famous hills in Rome, and is where the rulers lived (hence the word “palace”). We walked through some beautiful gardens and had a great view of the city.

We had decided to go to the seafood restaurant next to our hotel. It had a fixed menu (for only 19 Euro!) with three appetizers (seafood salad, fried anchovies, and mussels and clams), fried vegetables, three pasta courses (bean, pasta, and seafood soup, seafood lasagna, and spaghetti with mussels), plus bread, wine, and lemon sorbet. Unbelievable. The lasagna remains the best thing I’ve eaten on the trip, with the soup a close second.

We were happy that the restaurant seemed to be filled with mostly Italians, but therefore more surprised by the CONSTANT procession of men walking buy trying to sell us stuff. The roses, and maybe even to some extent the bracelets and wooden stuff, maybe make some sense, but the majority were what Charlie calls “glowy guys,” selling glow-in-the-dark balls and plastic jewelry and headbands with mouse ears. Charlie counted more than twenty each of the three nights we ate outside. It could have been an excellent (and well lit) drinking game.

The next day we had a repeat breakfast of cappuccino and croissants and the planned to hit all the stops we had missed so far. We took a bus across the city to Villa Borghese on the North side. It’s a beautiful park surrounding the Borghese Gallery, which, unfortunately, you need advance reservations to get into. We enjoyed our walk anyway, especially since the park stayed cool compared with the heat of the city. It was sunny and 80 the entire time we were here.

We made our way to the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain. Absolutely covered in tourists. And glowy guys.

We found a cheap cafe with pasta and antipasti (I had the veggie platter, Charlie had salmon Penne, meatballs, and roasted vegetables), that was clearly overcrowded for its waitstaff of two. Then suddenly one waitress was screaming at a woman inside the restaurant, who screamed just as loudly back. Ten minutes later, the same inside woman, who we now figured was the owner or at least boss, was screaming at a customer, who was screaming back and storming out, followed by her sheepish-looking teenaged daughter. Man, I wish we understood Italian.

We walked toward the river and over the bridge to the Trastevere neighborhood, which is supposedly hip. We sat down and had a ridiculously overpriced espresso and beer and watched the owner of the cafe fight with a woman who may have been an employee. Screaming. Why is everyone here so angry? I mean, I get that it’s hot, but have some grappa and calm down.

We walked back to our hotel, had our customary afternoon bottle of wine on the patio, and took the concierge’s advice to go across the street for dinner. We had an antipasti platter with meats and cheeses, rigatoni alla Gricia (cream, pancetta, pepper), and a pizza covered in mushrooms and prosciutto. Charlie thinks the pasta is the best thing he’s had on the trip so far.

This was Friday night, but we haven’t been much for staying up late on this trip, so we went to bed right after dinner. We had a second-floor room facing the quieter street, and we had to keep the window open because of the heat. And we heard everything going on in the neighborhood. Which included the guy SCREAMING in arabic around 2am, and the guy singing at the top of his lungs at around 3am. It was literally just him, yelling as loud as he could, echoing through the empty streets. Someone told him to shut up, and he started screaming at them. If I had been at home, I would have called the police. Not a restful night.

Nevertheless, we loved Rome. It’s hot and noisy and sadly dirty, and the tourists are suffocatingly thick. But there is so much to see and do. The history is so profound and the food is so amazing.

Final thoughts:
- The term “open air museum” certainly has new meaning. You can’t throw a glowy guy without hitting something over a thousand years old. Incredible.
- A term I am calling “tourist fatigue” is beginning to set in. There was honestly a time when we walked by the Colosseum on the way home and did not look up in amazement. Really?!
- I really need to look up lung cancer statistics here. These people may inhale more smoke than air.
- Grappa is disgusting. At least the kind we can afford.
- Better ingredients = better food.
- Even little kids sound awesome when speaking Italian.
- To my knowledge, you can say “prego” whenever you want. Or at least we’re going to until someone tells us we’re using it incorrectly.
- I like gelato. Lisa and I had multiple gelati.

After a few wrong turns, we strolled into our hotel late in the afternoon. The hotel was old but charming with a balcony and spectacular mountain views. It was our second hotel with a shared bathroom, which seemed like a big deal at first but in the end doesn’t matter much at all.

I’m sure that if this was the first place we had been, the views would have been even more stunning, but our last several days spoiled us a bit I think. It’s a beautiful spot, between Lake Brienz and Lake Thun (inter-laken), and surrounded on the other two sides by mountains. There are two train stations, East and West, and the main part of town lies between them. Our hotel was south of the main drag, near a bunch of hostels. As you get farther outside the town, there are cows grazing in the grass next to the highways or between houses.

Even though parts of Interlaken are quaint, and the views are so spectacular, the town is so touristy it loses something. The main street is lined with enormous, fancy hotels, and souvenir shops. I’m not sure there were actually any Swiss people walking around. The prices at the restaurants made us feel like we were being held hostage. The hostel near us had the cheapest food around: a hamburger for $11. Lucky for us we had amazing mountain cheese, so we bought some bread, turkey, and tomato and made delicious sandwiches for dinner.

We each have just one rollerbag, and we had always had the intention of doing laundry a few times. We hadn’t really found a laundromat yet, so I had been filling up the sink or tub, adding some detergent, and swishing the dirty clothes around for awhile. It’s not very effective. Bottom line, we’re pretty stinky. So we took the opportunity to find some laundry machines, at Daniel’s rentals, and threw in two loads. We had a beer and some french fries at the hostel next door, and went back to pick up our clothes at 9:30. Even though the sign said the place closes at 10, the door was locked. We banged on a bunch of doors, tried to call the number, and ended up going home empty-handed. At least we didn’t have to leave in the morning. Our hotel owner assured us Daniel was a stand-up guy who would never close up early without a really good reason. I hope she finds out what it was someday.

Breakfast was typical European continental (bread, meat, cheese, jam, cereal). Right away at 9 we went back to Daniel’s and found the door open. We rescued our clothes and went home to hang them up to dry. I don’t know what we would have done if we had to leave the next day. Break down the door? Call the police? Or I guess go on a shopping spree.

Interlaken is known as an action sports place. We discussed paragliding, bungy jumping, whitewater rafting, skydiving. Our mountain adventure the previous day had not only depleted our funds but also revealed that we both have a more difficult time with heights than we appreciated previously. We decided to rent bikes (not from Daniel’s) and bike to one of the lakes. We found a shop where the guy advised us to head along the south side of Lake Brienz to get to the town of Brienz, as the North side didn’t have a “proper bike path.” It was a 20km bike through the Alps. They’re mountains. High ones. We ended up walking the bikes a lot of the way. We were totally soaked and a little miserable. We kept trying to enjoy the views (which were as beautiful as we expected), but we were both dreading the ride back home.

We got to Brienz, had some more sandwiches with mountain cheese, and walked around for awhile.

We decided to go back along the North side of the lake. It’s true, it was mostly highway without a bike path, but it could not have been worse than going back the other way. It was still tough going: 16km and it had started to rain. But we made it back and had achieved action sports. We took a little nap and brought the bikes back. At the beginning of the day I thought we might have the chance to get to both lakes…

Though our friends in Gimmelwald advised against it, we wanted to have fondue. We found a review of a “touristy but good” fondue place near the station. The waiters were wearing cow-print pants. The head guy seemed Australian and was busy riling up the dining room full of Chinese tourists, waving flags and playing loud music and causing a general hubbub. We sat on the patio and ordered one serving of cheese fondue. We probably should have listened to the Gimmelwaldians. Not bad, but not worth the money and certainly not a full (or nutritious) meal. But definitely an experience.

We got a pizza on the way home (it may have had some vegetables on it) and sat in our room with the balcony door open. Surrounded by the moutains and our drying laundry.

It’s a shame Interlaken is so overtaken by tourists. It would be amazing to bike around in the meadows, surrounded by cows and flowers, instead of fondue places and overpriced hotels. I think if we come back it will only be as a stopover on our way up to Gimmelwald.

Gimmelwald was a bit of a question mark for us. All we knew is that we had to take a train, a bus, and a gondola to get there and that Rick Steves has mad love for it. So, expectations were high but somewhat unclear.

The weather worsened as we arrived at the base of the mountain where we were to board the gondola. Heavy rain drops pelted us at the base, and the low clouds blanketed the mountain peaks, making most of the route and our destination hidden. All we could see was the thick wire cables trail off into the clouds. Ominous to say the least.

We boarded and took off up the mountain side into the clouds. Emerging the otherside, we soon saw that what was once heavy rain was now large snowflakes. There was a good two inches or so covering the ground. After seeing mostly sun and green grass on the trip thus far, this was unexpected and pretty hilarious.

After disembarking the gondola, our surroundings, though covered in snow, was much more clear. We were surrounded on all sides by steep jagged mountains. Same idea as Hallstatt, but no lake and this time, we were on a mountain side.

We walked into the “village”, found a sign for the hotel, and hauled our bags up a steep, snow-covered pathway, in almost-blizzard conditions, to Hotel Mittaghorn. It only took four trains, a bus, and a gondola to get there, but finally we had arrived.

Inside, we were greeted by Walter, a cheerful 87-year-old man who runs the place pretty much completely on his own. We shared some pleasantries and some grumbling about the weather, and he showed us to our room. The hotel is an old farmhouse that can accommodate 14 guests. plus Walter. He does the cooking (he used to be a chef for SwissAir), and apparently the cleaning and laundry, as well. There were several occasions where we wanted to offer to help him carry loads up the stairs as it seemed like he maybe could not do it.

The storm had cleared and there was some time before dinner, so we took a stroll up the mountain a ways taking in the views. Next to the hotel is a farm with goats and cows, who bleated at each other (and us) across their fences.

Dinner was slow-cooked veal and mushrooms with rice and vegetables, with vegetable soup to start and ice cream with chocolate and pears to finish. We shared it with a couple from South Africa. We spoke for a long time about our respective trips thus far and ended up getting into the state of our countries. Good discussion.

The next morning was clear and sunny, which made the surroundings even more stunning. The contrast of green grass, stone mountains with white peaks, and blue sky is hard to beat. Throw some yellow and purple flowers in there, and the picture is even more complete.

We spent most of the day hiking up and down and back up again. This village is really something. Cows and goats most certainly outnumber the people. The pace slowed almost to a stop.

Being as clear as it was, we decided to take a series of gondolas up to the top of our side of the mountains, to a peak called Schilthorn. This is home to the first rotating restaurant and also the setting for a number of very memorable scenes from the Bond movie “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” something this little place is very proud of. 007 adorns most everything in the place. Thinking back, I remember pretty clearly the scene where Jaws and 007 battle it out on the cable car. Pretty classic Bond.

It certainly lived up to the hype. The Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau surrounding us.

The gondola rides became more nerve-wracking and nail-biting as we got closer to the top.

Needless to say, lunch in the rotating restaurant (solar-powered!) was spectacular. Lisa had the Schilthorn platter of local meats and cheeses, and I had bratwurst with potato roesti.

Sad to leave, we headed back down to the hotel, and gathered our things. On the way to the cable car station, we stopped and bought cheese from the woman whose family runs the local dairy. Then we took the cable car, bus, and train back down the mountain to Interlaken.

We definitely short-changed this place. We could have easily spent a week here. Every minute replenishing energy and spirit.

I feel bad for Salzburg. Though beautiful, it will be overshadowed by Hallsatt and Gimmelwald’s alpine glory.