An Unexpected Adventure, Part II

Our tickets also gave us admission to the Conciergerie and I figured, in for a penny, in for a pound, so we wandered over and took the tour. While very impressive, it should be done before Sainte-Chapelle. Louis IX knew what he liked and he did a fine job on both of these structures, but I was already in sensory overload and merely was going through the motions.  Besides, it is now best known as a prison for Marie Antoinette and I certainly don’t like prisons, especially those with no windows.  

Soon enough we were out in the sunshine again, happy as clams which reminded me that it was time for lunch.  I wanted to eat at the Terminus Nord, a restaurant that has been guarding the entrance to the Gare du Nord since 1925.  Getting there was not half the fun because we got lost in the Châtelet metro station. This is an enormous transit point for the Métro - five major subway lines and 5 regional (RER) trains run through it - so finding your way around can be very difficult. We finally found the right track only to hear that service was suspended for two hours and we then wove our way around hungry folks heading to food courts until we discovered we were in an entirely new station, Les Halles, having walked nearly forty minutes and gone though six turnstiles without ever getting on a train! I felt like Charlie, The Man Who Never Returned  and I wanted to go up to the surface since I was tired of feeling like a mole. However, Cindy prevailed, found the right track and we were soon at the Gare du Nord.   We were so happy that the agent at the airport had sold us day passes since we ended up putting our tickets through the automated doors 5 times without going anywhere!  We felt like such rubes but frankly Châtelet is just plain too big and we didn’t know how many rail lines we were facing.  

The restaurant Terminus Nord is a glorious fusion of Art Nouveau and Art Deco, bright with crystal lights and polished copper and filled with fresh flowers, crisp linens and shimmering silver. We had to wait a bit, having arrived at one-thirty without reservations, but it was well worth it and gave me a chance to look at the customers, a pleasant mix of travelers in a hurry and regulars who enjoy three-hour lunches.  We were seated at a fairly large table, unheard of in France, and soon had our ice cold Kirs and red hot menus.  They have a daily set menu which offers a choice of starter, main and/or dessert. Cindy started with a dish of mushrooms and herbs topped with a poached egg and I had a small Cesar salad, which in France has thick slices of chicken breast. I continued with the boucher cut, a small steak with french fries and a sinful Béarnaise sauce while Cindy opted for a healthy grilled chicken.  The waiter who brought me my food had a large sauce bowl filled with the Béarnaise and as I started to ladle it onto my plate he politely took it from my hands, this was his job!  Carafes of Rosé and Côtes du Rhône added a touch of elegance and relaxation to this fantastic meal, and don’t get me started on the fabulous bread. 

A few hours later, we reluctantly departed and forty minutes later we were at the entrance to the hotel, a magnificent day trip to Paris and a most pleasant unexpected adventure.  I went to the Club to get a glass of wine for us to share before our nap and the same gentleman from the night before was there. I told him what I wanted and he returned from his small kitchen with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses, all on a lovely tray for me to bring back to the room.  How gracious!

The next morning we did our final packing, retrieved our two bags from the porter and proceeded to find our way to the shuttle train which took us to Terminal One for our United flight. While we were in Brussels I had gone into a Leonidas chocolate shop to purchase a large red silk heart-shaped box of chocolates to give to the United crew since we were traveling on St. Valentine’s Day. Since Cindy was in another shop, I also purchased a little red velvet heart-shaped box with one chocolate in it as well as a small bag of four crème fraîche confections, Cindy’s favorite.  I was trying to tell the clerk that I wanted those two items in a separate bag before Cindy arrived, but I saw her entering the shop and stuffed them into my coat pocket. The clerk looked terrified until she realized Cindy was my wife and this was to be the surprise I had tried to tell her about. She smiled!

Once settled on the plane, we gave the box of chocolates to the purser with the note that Cindy had written the night before. She was amazed and grateful and we received rather excellent service from everyone who appreciated the gesture.  Shortly after lunch, I went to the galley with my little box and four candies and asked for a tray and a glass since I had also brought a small flask of cognac. (United does not carry any brandy anymore in Business Class!)  They said they would take care of everything and I went back to my seat. A few moments later she came out with the tray and presented it to Cindy, who was truly surprised. Four of the other flight attendants were standing there because they wanted to see Cindy’s reaction.  It turned out to be a fun flight and a great way to end our unexpected adventure, not to mention a nice ending to our two-month sojourn in Europe. 

Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Cindy's Valentine' Day Surprise

An Unexpected Adventure, Part I

We spent a quiet few days with Meagan in Brussels, mostly grocery shopping and cooking big batches of things we could freeze so that Meagan would have lots of good, healthy and tasty dinners after her long days at work.  It was the least we could do to express our thanks for her hospitality. We had planned on driving to CDG on the 13th, drop the car and fly out the next morning.  On Monday afternoon Meagan told us that there was to be a complete transportation shutdown on Wednesday the 13th and that the roads would be a mess for our trip to Paris. I got on the computer and adjusted my reservation at the Airport Sheraton so that we would arrive on the 12th.

We departed Brussels on the 12th in the early afternoon.  It took forever to get out of the city since Sybil insisted on trying to take us down one way streets. Cindy finally took over with her phone GPS and an hour later we were tooling down the highway heading back to France. It was an easy trip; there was even a gas station close to the airport so that I could fill the tank one last time. We thought we knew where the cut-off was for the hotel entrance but we couldn’t find it even though we drove around Terminal Two twice.  I finally gave up and we just decided to dump the car and walk to the hotel from inside the terminal. The agent at the car rental was wonderful and after checking for gas and damages took some time to ask about our trip since we had put three thousand kilometers on the car, about nineteen hundred miles. That is a lot of driving for twelve days.

We managed to get to the hotel with all of our luggage and the check-in was a breeze.  We also found out that there is no longer a place to drive up to the hotel lobby, so dragging our luggage through the terminal to the hotel was our only option.  The hotel clerk told us we had been upgraded to the Club Floor, which meant free breakfast as well as snacks, water, beer and wine. Music to my ears after four hours of driving.  Since we had organized our luggage before leaving Meagan’s we left the two large bags with the bellman and went up to our room for a quick nap before cocktails in the club. I went to the club before Cindy, who stayed in the room to practice the violin. (Yes, she carried and played the violin for the entire two months; now that is dedication!)  In the club I grabbed a glass of lovely French white, bien sûr, and one little warm spinach roll. The gentleman supervising the lounge thought that was not enough but I told him I was waiting for my wife. He said, with a smile, “What if she doesn’t come?”  I touched his shoulder and gave him a wink and said “Oh, she’ll be here.”  Well for some reason he thought that was hysterical (perhaps it was my French that he found hysterical) but in any event he said to follow him and he led me to a private room with a window overlooking the runways and if you stood in just the right spot you could see the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Coeur, quite the sight. 

A little while later I heard Cindy talking to aforementioned supervisor so I started to go out to tell her were I was, but our host brought her to the room after having told her that I just left! (From Cindy:  I was still wondering how he knew who I was or that I was looking for Wm.)  The guy was a cut-up, that is for sure. He plied us with food and wine for the next ninety minutes and all thought of going downstairs for dinner evaporated. As we left he wanted to make sure we had had a good time and handed me a glass of wine to take back to the room. I already had a five-Euro bill in my hand for him, so we made a subtle exchange which made both of us happy.

Armed with an extra day in Paris I decided I had to make amends to Cindy for having blown off the visit to Sainte-Chapelle during our first week in Paris in mid-December. We had actually gotten as far as the ticket window that day when I saw long - very long - lines of folks waiting to get in. I hate lines!  So we left and had a lovely walk around Paris instead, but it was clear that Cindy had really wanted to see Sainte-Chapelle.  I now had a second chance so the next morning we proceeded out the hotel door, down the escalator and into the ticket office for a one-day pass at senior rates to Paris.  The very nice agent directed us downstairs to the proper gate and after about a five-minute wait we boarded the fast train and thirty-five minutes later we were emerging in brilliant sunlight to the sight of Notre Dame hard against the Seine and a dazzling blue sky.

It was a short walk to Sainte-Chapelle and there were no lines; we just walked up to the ticket counter, got our tickets and right into the chapel. At one point in my life I was a sales representative for Hauser Art Glass, one of the largest makers of stained glass in the USA, so I know a bit about stained glass. Nothing however could prepare me for the sheer drama of these windows, which seemed to soar from the earth to the heavens. We spent a marvelous hour wandering from window to window. Periodically one of the docents would command silence reminding all of the visitors that we were in a house of worship, and the place would fall completely silent for a few moments - to the point that I thought we were the only two people in the entire building.

More later, Cindy and Wm

Bingen am Rhein

We had one more overnight before we would be back at our daughter-in-law’s lovely apartment in Brussels. We simply found an area that was about halfway to Brussels, on the Rhine and on the same side as we wanted to be, no bridges for us!  We chose Bingen am Rhein since we knew that area rather well but had never been to this particular village. It was a good choice!

After an ample and lovely breakfast (lit candles on the table and fine china for breakfast at our Augsburg hotel) we hit the road at ten and headed towards Bingen, passing lots of cities and towns were I had taught for Boston University for ten years. We arrived later than planned due to lots of traffic and Staus (traffic jams) despite it being a Saturday. We arrived with the rain at about three and were quickly settled into our lovely room overlooking the Rhine, the Mauseturm and the vast vineyards across the river. We put on our raincoats and headed for the main part of town which was across the railroad tracks. 

We were lucky and the rain let up enough for us to enjoy walking the pedestrian street, filled with shops touting Hildegard von Bingen materials, as well as little wine shops, gelato shops and bakeries, lots and lots of bakeries.  We stopped by a little Stube for a glass of the local white and some marvelous soup for Cindy and small sandwiches for me, both of which hit the spot. Cindy was so enamored of soup - puréed yellow peppers with a dollop of fresh cheese - that we thought about coming back for dinner until the heavens opened up after our return to the hotel. It is really a lovely little town and we were grateful that we could enjoy it without the tourists which swamp the place every summer. It is a jumping-off spot for Rhine cruises, lunch/dinner cruises, wine cruises, well you get the point, it is a thriving place from late April to late October.

We had a well-deserved nap and took a short walk in the underground garage, which while being underground, still had open windows so we could breath clean, moist air and have periodic views of the river on one side and the train tracks on the other while avoiding the rain.  While Cindy practiced her violin, I went to what I was told was the bar, but which turned out to be a room with a TV and five overstuffed chairs.  A waiter came and took my order and then returned with my drink and that was that, not a lot of charm, but all was made right when we went in to dinner. We were given a lovely table for two overlooking the river and the illuminated castle, towers and monuments on both sides of the river, even with the rain, was magical. 

Soup must be a big thing in Bingen since there were several on our menu, but only one that really intrigued me: Mustard Soup.  It was, as best I can figure, a clear chicken stock thickened with Dijon mustard with bacon and croutons floating on top.  It was fantastic!  We left the wine choice to our waiter, who either was afraid to get it wrong or really well trained, and he brought us two samples of very dry, local Rieslings.  Both were good but one was better and he was pleased with our choice.  It was a lovely meal, a great setting and a nice way to end our short time in Germany.

After a morning run for Cindy along the river and a walk for me through town again and then to the river, we had our breakfast and hit the road at ten.  It was pouring rain when we left and just seemed to rain harder and harder as we drove. It turned out to be a blessing since it limited our view of the rather nasty Ruhr Valley; that industrial wasteland that still is an eye sore. 

By three we were on the outskirts of Brussels and Cindy and Sybil took over directing me hither, thither and yon.  Finally, after a nerve racking thirty minutes, we arrived someplace that looked familiar and with my uncanny sense of direction, two missed turns and an overshoot, we were home!  Meagan was patiently waiting for us in the garage - not minding our navigation delay - and her smiles and hugs were a grand welcome.

Best wishes, Cindy and Wm

Augsburg, Part II

Our 2 days in Augsburg were FABULOUS - it is not a well known city but it is extremely interesting and beautiful.  As you may have gleaned from a previous blog, I kept asking why we were returning to Augsburg after all these years and Cindy just smiled knowingly.  As reported, we had a great first night on our own and then at 11 am the next day our former landlords Erich and Elisabeth met us in the hotel lobby and our real adventure began ...

Martin Luther was in Augsburg and there is much evidence of that in the various churches, plaques, and statues. Augsburg has the first onion dome in all of Germany, and one of the churches has the oldest stained glass in Europe (they hid the 4 panels during WWII when Augsburg was 80% destroyed).  The Rathaus is gorgeous - the largest in Germany - and the pedestrian shopping area is almost endless with many fancy stores as well as many normal ones. On an early morning walk I went through the city market, which is as old as it is beautiful with all manner of meat, fruit, vegetables, and fish including trout still swimming. It was so early that I was the only customer; all the others were vendors setting up. I saw a small truck with a tank on it next to the fish market and upon closer inspection found two men dipping nets into the tank and removing fresh trout to place in the tank of the fish market. There is fresh and then there is FRESH!   Parts of the market are indoors but much of it is partly outside with little shops that have awnings on one side that are open to the pedestrian streets within the market area. 

Back to our fabulous day:  Erich and Elisabeth are very interested in history and architecture wherever they go (we met them once in Padua) and of course they are extremely knowledgeable about the city where they were both born and raised.  One of the highlights (in addition to what is mentioned in the previous paragraph) was the Golden Room on the 3rd floor of the Rathaus - which is aptly named.  Seemingly everything is covered in gold on the walls and ceilings. There was a long line of people waiting to pay to visit the Golden Room, but Erich just told us to follow him - and we did, to a rather well hidden elevator. Upon getting out on the 3rd floor we were greeted by a ‘keeper of the gate’ who tried to tell us to go back down to the line, but Erich pulled out some kind of card and the next thing we knew the keeper was all smiles and polite greetings. We found out later that Erich is one of the members of the society that keeps the Rathaus in good shape.  Nice to be with insiders.

While we were at the Rathaus Elisabeth pointed out some wall art by Kager, an artist from the 1500 -1600’s who was born in Munich but lived and died in Augsburg.  Elisabeth told us that we were looking at reproductions - but just wait - we’d see the real thing at their house.  And sure enough, several years ago they had purchased a very old house that was in ruins so they completely refurbished it and saved the paintings on the walls which were done by Kager!  In 1600-something!  It was jaw-dropping and they did a beautiful job of fixing up the house while maintaining its historical significance.  

I need to point out something regarding communications.  Erich does not speak much English and so he just spoke - sometimes rather fast - German. The remarkable thing is that I kept up with the conversation and actually was using full sentences with verbs and everything. Amazing what you remember with just a little study and practice. If I had taken the time to study French I wouldn’t be sounding like Tarzan in Nice.  And as luck would have it, we usually separated into couples as we walked - and Elisabeth speaks rather good English.  Yet Cindy is the one who REALLY studied German and figured she’d be practicing it all day since when we lived in Augsburg Elisabeth seemingly spoke no English at all (no doubt because she was encouraging us to learn German). 

Before we left their house their daughter Steffi left work to come and see us; the last time we saw her she was still a teenager and it was fun to see her as an adult.  She took photos of all of us and one is posted below.  

That night we were invited to a dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant that they know well. We were joined by their son Erich Jr, his wife and one of their sons. Again, we ended up mostly speaking German and Italian and English was just the fall back. Turns out Erich knows a lot more English than he let on - but maybe he, like me, needed a bit of wine to loosen his tongue.  It was obvious that they were very well known since everyone was rather solicitous to them.

From Cindy:  I graduated from Augsburg College, which is named after the city, so I feel a special connection and was tickled when we had the opportunity to live there back in 1984.  I may not have remembered a whole lot about our 3 1/2 months in Augsburg so many years ago, but I do remember going to the same city market and buying potatoes.  We had only been in Germany for about 4 months and I was still adapting to the concept of ordering things orally by weight, in grams no less, so I asked for 100 grams of Kartofflen.  The clerk became very crabby and I quickly realized that I wanted a whole lot more than 100 grams, but she was not nice about it so I stuck to my guns and paid for just 1 potato.  So there!  

We heard that Rick Steves gives Augsburg about a sentence in his guide book on the area so that may be why it remains relatively unknown to Americans.  Put it on your list if you go to Germany.  

Best to all,  Cindy and William

 

Our lovely Augsburg Hosts

Augsburg, Part I

True to our pledge we were in the car and moving by ten AM after a very fine breakfast at our hotel in Trento, the best we had had on the trip to date. We took a few goodies from the breakfast buffet for snacking and headed north to Austria. Whereas the trip from San Marino to Trento was mostly flat though wide open spaces, this one was through narrow mountain passes and many, many tunnels. While Cindy assured me the scenery was beautiful, I was laser focused as our trusty car headed up hill. Sharing these narrow roads and tunnels with 18-wheelers is a challenge and by the time we reached Innsbruck and the roads opened up, I was one tired puppy.  Augsburg was getting closer but we surely were not there yet.

The weather cooperated nicely, thank goodness, and a short time after passing Innsbruck we crossed the border into Germany. Our car, a Nissan X-Trail, had some lovely features but the one I liked the most and used the most was the posted speed limit right in the middle of the speedometer array. Speeds change all the time in Europe and depending upon the country, you can be photoed and issued a ticket multiple time within fifteen kilometers. I grew heavily dependent upon this feature so you can imagine how I felt as we got on the A8 towards Munich and the speed indicator just became a white circle, no speed indicated.  It took me awhile to realize, mein Gott in Himmel, we are in Germany and there is NO SPEED LIMIT!  My first clue was all of the cars passing me at great speed, so I put the pedal to the metal and in no time was at 180 kmh (about 110 mph).  That was plenty fast for me but still it was like I was in the slow lane; amazing how fast they drive. These were actually not long stretches of road that had no limit - perhaps ten kilometers and then it was 130 kmh - then another five without limit and then back to 80 or 90; it was really crazy. 

Our GPS Navigator - who we called Sybil since she had an English accent - took us around Munich to the north, which we think was the long way, but we also think she knew something about the traffic that we didn’t so we followed her directions. By now it had started to rain and yet there were those who still kept speeding by us. There was a lot of road construction and merging of lanes, which I must say the Germans do with exemplary skill. They are all taught the ‘zipper method’ of lane change in which each driver allows the one in the merging lane to enter ahead of them allowing all the traffic to keep moving.  It makes so much sense and SHOULD be universal.  

Sybil got us close to our hotel in Augsburg just before dark. It was still raining quite hard and we think that Sybil still harbored ill will with the Germans because she kept taking us in a circle. She would say, “Your destination is on the right” and it was a post office so we went forward and she said to take a right and the next thing you know I’m driving right down the pedestrian street. (I know I’m going to get a ticket for that.) She tried to do it again but we were not to be fooled. We pulled over next to a taxi stand and Cindy was about to get out and ask for directions when she noticed our hotel was across the street from where Sybil thought it should be.  Several illegal U-turns later, I pulled up as close to the hotel as possible and Cindy ran in to find out where their parking garage was. Turns out they didn’t have one and we were directed to a city garage where we finally found a space and then schlepped our luggage (in the rain) to the hotel.  We left a lot of luggage in the car but nevertheless we had plenty to drag along - a person gets lazy about packing when traveling by car.

Upon further reflection as to why I chose a city hotel without parking, I realized that we were recreating the September trip that we had had to cancel due to Cindy’s broken wrist, and on that trip we had planned to take the train.  Rest assured that our hotel without parking was indeed convenient to the train station!  

After checking in and changing rooms (the first one was mighty small), we were ready to take a walk and didn’t care that it was raining. We realized that we didn’t really know where we were, nothing looked familiar at all even though we had lived nearby (well, it was only 3 1/2 months and only 35 years ago, but still). We just couldn’t get our bearings, so when in doubt, drink beer. We found a small beer bar close to the hotel and I ordered what I had been dreaming about for months, a half liter of helles beer and a brezel; Cindy had wine. It was marvelous and all the tension just melted away as we sat and sipped. It was to be my only beer on the trip, but it was memorable and a second one would not have been twice as good.

That night, on the recommendation of staff, we found a Bavarian beerhall that we were told served the best Bavarian food in town.  It was housed in an old armory and was enormous, not like the Munich beer halls, but really quite large. There were long tables of young folks drinking beer and a few other tables of white-hairs having dinner. Cindy, ordering lightly (so she thought), had two appetizers that could have fed one of the big tables.  I had a pork schnitzel covered with the dried must of the grains used to make beer.  It was the size of a tennis racket and was placed on top of a huge plate of fries, with a half lemon for health. It was delicious and I ate it all, but not all the fries.  Cindy tried hard to finish her yummy huge salads but I needed to step in so she wouldn’t look bad.

More on this later,  Cindy and Wm

Trento

We had visited Trento several times when we lived in Vicenza but hadn’t been back for more than twenty-five years so we thought we would see what had changed. We departed San Marino after a lovely breakfast of ice cold eggs sunny side up and some not-so-Italian espresso, a fitting end to that adventure. The weather was beautiful as we drove up the Adriatic coast and then just past Bologna we turned due north and within an hour we were treated to some of the most spectacular mountain views.  We could see the entire southern range of the Alpini Mountains, their snow-capped peaks sparkling in the brilliant sunshine.  We lived in Vicenza for three weeks before we realized that we were surrounded by these mountains - they’re only visible when there is an inversion - so we were grateful for this gift of such beauty.

Trento is the last real Italian city on the way to Austria. The Adige River runs from the Brenner Pass straight down the mountains and right through Trento, providing lots of great irrigation for the wine growers which have really expanded since our last visit. Arguably the finest wine wines in Italy come from the Trentino/Alto Adige region, especially the hard to find Pinot Bianco. We were excited to have two days to test all of the great wines and foods from the region.

I had booked a hotel that offered free parking, knowing that a car with French plates and lots of luggage would be a very tempting target. Almost none of the downtown hotels, many of which were closed for the season, offered any parking since they are all in the Old Town which is closed to traffic. Our hotel was about a mile from the Old Town in a brand new development that had once housed a Michelin tire factory. It was very hard to find the hotel since it was attached to a huge brand new library which had limited access to autos. We finally found the place - well, Cindy my navigator found the place - and we parked the car in the garage and made our way to reception and then into our lovely, albeit small, room. 

It was very cold in Trento and since it is surrounded by mountains, it gets dark early and light late.  We went for a quick walk to stretch muscles since we had been sitting for five hours - and man were we freezing. The Old Town was a very long hike from our hotel and we discovered that so much of it was closed for the winter. It was then we started to pray that the hotel had a good restaurant since we knew we weren’t going to eat downtown.  Our prayers were answered! Not only was the food really good, but the staff was exceptionally wonderful. Young, attentive, and eager to share what they knew about the specials.  Since the restaurant didn’t open until 7:30, we decided to have a real cocktail in the bar.  Cindy had a Negroni which is Campari, gin, sweet vermouth and orange slice, while I had a William (I named it such six years ago), Campari on ice topped with Prosecco. After they brought us our drinks, chips and peanuts, they returned with a tray of cheeses and local meats, enough for six people!  The Italians do enjoy life. It set the tone for a grand repast washed down with the local Pinot Bianco. As we left they invited us for an after dinner drink - perhaps because I might have been the first person to tip them - and we enjoyed a quiet brandy before we retired. 

Next morning we were out on the river path, Cindy running and I ambling. Again icy cold until the sun managed to get over one of the peaks and then it was a glorious day.  We spent it walking around the Old Town and the open air markets, and by noon we realized that this should have been a one nighter - but we were there and knew we had a long, long drive the next day so we just chilled out and had a great time, another great cocktail hour and a better dinner than the night before.  Bed was early since we wanted to be on the road by ten, which is very early for us!

Best to all, Cindy and Wm

Goodbye Nice

Our four weeks here seemed to fly and all too soon, it is time to pack for our next adventure. All in all it has been a fun visit but I must say I’m not as sad to leave as I have been in the past. There is just something different about Nice this visit, can’t tell if it is the general malaise that is omnipresent in France, or if it is just our jaded lifestyle. For the past three Saturdays, the Yellow Vests have marched in Nice, their numbers diminishing each week, yet they are symptomatic of a more general problem in France. Immigration is as big an issue here as it is in all of Europe and the divide between ‘the others’ and the French gets larger and larger.  Each year we have noticed more and more evidence that Nice is becoming another North African commune. The little Italian green grocer that we have known for years now has Algerian music blaring from her small shop.  C’est la vie.

Nice is in a perpetual state of alert, ever since the July 14th incident that killed so many people two years ago.  They have a group of French Foreign Legion troops (yes, they still exist) patrolling the Promenade and the major downtown streets. It is hilarious to watch them, these earnest young men and some women who are armed to the teeth. When we lived in Germany during the Red Brigade scare, we would get briefings on how to observe Operational Security (OpSec).  We were told to vary our routes to work, check under our cars for bombs, and other really helpful things. First all, none of us could identify a bomb if it was placed under our car and none of us had routines for going to work, but they thought that telling us all this would make us aware of the situations around us. Well these Vigipirates, yes that is really what they are called, never got the briefing. At ten in the morning eight of them pull up to the Promenade in two vans, four per van. They get out, adjust their armor and proceed to walk across the street in a straight line into the McDonald’s for breakfast, which lasts for about twenty minutes.  Then they casually patrol the Promenade and the Old Town for awhile and at noon they march into the Bistro du Opera for lunch.  Can’t you just hear the conversations of potential terrorists, (Abdul, we have a twenty minute window from 10 to 10:20, but if that isn’t convenient, we have an hour from 12 to 13:00. Where shall we strike?)

In Africa there was a system of drum talk which alerted various tribes to impeding danger. In the old west the native Americans had smoke signals for the same purpose.  Here in this neighborhood they have what I call the Mint Tea Signal. I watched with amazement from our balcony several times this visit as the meter man would come by and start to issue tickets for those cars having parked without paying. The minute he came by the corner store (electronic cigarettes and cafe) the owner would come out and warmly greet him and invite him in for mint tea. Then a small kid would run out and go from shop to shop to alert everyone of the impending ticket, and there would soon be a long line at the parking permit machine as everyone purchased at least one hour worth of parking to avoid the fine. The meter man seemed to be okay with this procedure, and life goes on!

We have tried to go to different restaurants this month to avoid falling into a rut, and for the most part it has been an excellent experience. We’ve had two sets of visitors here at the apartment, which make us really want to expand our horizons to show off Nice in its best light. We now have three new restaurants that we would happily revisit since they really promote all that the local markets have to offer.  Cindy has gone to three concerts and she dragged me kicking and screaming to one of them, thus she has had a nice cultural break and I’ve been exposed to germs and who knows what kinds of plagues!

This year as every year we seem to really hit our stride the last week - you’d think after this many years we’d hit our stride the first day!  But every year is a bit different - this year our morning coffee has been at a stand-up espresso joint that serves true Italian coffee rather than at our former favorite Brasserie.  Alfredo the Italian barista usually sees us coming and has our espressos on the counter as we walk in the door, never mind how many other customers are standing around.  Small tips and lollipops go a long way.  

Our bakery of choice has been the one in our building - yes, in our building! - we sometimes awaken to the aroma of baking bread - and while the products at previous years’ favorite bakery are somewhat better you can’t beat the convenience. The morning clerk certainly knows our faces by now and has been pleasant enough but not exactly friendly (this is France, after all), but today when we walked in she reached for our usual half baguette!  As it happened we had decided to have mini pastries today and we actually felt bad - but we certainly smiled and thanked her for being so nice.  She’s going to miss us.  Ha. 

We are off to Italy on Friday, one night in Piacenza to have dinner with our friends Roberto and Maria, then to San Benedetto to check it out as a possible alternative to Nice. Then up to Trento for two days; Augsburg, Germany for two days to reconnect with our landlords from 1983 (you’ll have to ask Cindy why); and then back to Brussels to collect our stuff that we left there and take Meagan out for an early Valentine’s Day dinner.  We fly home on the 14th and I’m sure United will have a very special Valentine’s Day celebration for all of us on the flight.  

Best to all, Cindy and Wm

San Marino

Here is a general rule of thumb when traveling. If the map of the picturesque town or village that you want to visit has more symbols for defibrillators than it does for toilets, don’t visit!

Greetings from the Most Serene Republic of San Marino, where all roads seemingly go uphill and defibrillators rule.  We wanted to visit here on Saturday but missed the turn on the way to San Benedetto so we made plans to stay here one night after San Benedetto on our way to Trento.  It is a very old city (the old town and the republic are both called San Marino) perched atop a huge mountain and no matter where you park, you have to climb and climb and climb just to get to the places that are supposed to be beautiful. The shops - all of which are duty free - are supposed to offer great deals. After huffing and puffing for thirty minutes we arrived at the center of the town where everything was closed for the season. Well not everything - if you were in the market for a gun, rifle, crossbow or knife, there was one shop selling these items that was open; otherwise, forget about shopping. The good news was that all the museums were closed which saved me a lot of whining. 

I must say that when the clouds cleared there were spectacular views of Rimini and the Adriatic as well as all the hill towns to the west of San Marino. I couldn’t see all that well since the oxygen mask covered most of my face but Cindy assured me that it was swell.

Our time in San Benedetto was fun and we know we’ll not return, but we had to give it a shot.  If I had had to evaluate the food after the first night, I would have given it a thumbs down. We ate at a popular restaurant highly recommended by the hotel and very close to us, which was good since it was raining.  I had spaghetti vongole, clams in the shell. It appeared that the pasta had been cooked in sea water; it was so salty that I couldn’t finish it. Cindy’s pasta with rabbit was a bit less salty but still more salt than we have ever encountered in Italy. (The rabbit was all chopped up so you really couldn’t tell if it was rabbit, rattlesnake or chicken.)

For lunch on Sunday we tried another restaurant that reaffirmed our belief that Italian food is indeed some of the greatest on earth. We first shared an octopus salad, a heaping helping of chopped octopus that had been lightly seasoned with just a little olive oil, fresh lemon juice, and parsley.  Oh my.  I then had the pasta mezzamanica, although I had no idea what I was ordering even after asking twice.  Well it was a short tubular pasta mixed with clams and mussels with a hint of chili flakes, garlic and olive oil.  Divine.  Cindy had paccheri which was also tubular but much bigger, and the sauce was calamari, tomatoes and some type of fish, again fantastic. Much later that night we returned to try their pizza that they made every evening in a wood-burning oven. It was a simple affair that we split, just mozzarella, fresh finely chopped tomatoes, basil, garlic, and a layer of arugula. Hot, fresh and wonderful.  The wines were out of a box served in half liter carafes and perfectly fine. The prices were also marvelous.  

Best wishes,  Cindy and William

Sunday in San Benedetto

We woke up this morning to brilliant sunshine, at 7:25!  In Nice the sun never appeared before eight, so we are a bit more easterly. The surf was pounding and from our balcony we could see the huge waves left over from the storms last night crashing on the shore.  It was quite magical and it was the first sunshine we had seen in four days!  We departed Nice last Friday in a blinding rain storm, which, as we approached Genoa, became an ice storm followed quickly by a snow storm as we headed up into the mountains. It was slow going, especially when we got behind snow plows, three in a staggered row, clearing snow and spreading salt.  We appreciated them being there but it was tedious until we finally reached the cutoff to Piacenza.

We pulled into our hotel at about four pm after a rather difficult five-hour journey. Ah, but it was worth it!  Our hotel was nestled between two petro-chemical plants, with the major north/south autostrada on the third side and empty fields on the fourth. Upon checking in, the clerk told me that I was to park in the private garage labeled 103.  Every room had a door to the outside - like any motel - and also a door to the inside corridor that led to the reception area and restaurant.  The notable feature was that every room had a covered parking area - and after you parked you could pull down a curtain/ tarp to hide your car.  Yes, hide your car - this motel had TRYST written all over it!  It was in the middle of nowhere - and as mentioned, very close to the autostrada so it’s not like anyone would be driving by on their way to anything else - but if you needed secrecy you would have it.  It had the largest bed we have ever seen in Italy and the huge double shower was clearly there for reasons other than personal hygiene.

There were two chairs along a counter / desk in the room and we couldn’t figure out why the chairs were so low - very uncomfortable for typing.  Then we noticed a little table tucked under the counter that slid out for dinner for two (the chairs were the perfect height).  Room service seemed to be a popular option, although the hotel was quite empty since it was a Friday.  If only the bed had been heart-shaped!

Our friends Robert and Maria drove down from Milan to have dinner with us.  It was a fun packed evening of fine wine and excellent food and no one looked askance at our group, so perhaps the hotel does cater to other than trysting couples.

The next day we drove down to San Benedetto, which became an hour longer journey than planned due to a very long delay because of construction on the highway. However, as it turned out they had simply forgotten to remove all the cones from the weekday road repairs.  The signs were directing traffic from four lanes to one which of course slowed things to a crawl, but there was absolutely NO CONSTRUCTION going on. Ah, Italy!

We came to San Benedetto thinking we might find an alternative to Nice for our winter break. It has a beautiful five kilometer promenade lined with palm trees right on the Adriatic, but alas, that is all that it has in winter. Eighty-five percent of everything here is shuttered for the winter; unlike Nice, this city does not have anything except tourism and thus options for museums, concerts, restaurants and shops are limited to say the least.  We did, however, enjoy the spectacle of a marathon being run this morning, well we think it was being run! As is typical here in Italy, rules and regulations are flexible and this marathon was a hoot. People were running all over the place, on the beach, in the middle of the Promenade which was filled with families, kids and dogs on their Sunday passaggiata interspersed with bicycle clubs racing this way and that. No marshals guiding the runners, no tape blocking off certain areas, no signs indicating the route, just the marvelous chaos of Italy on a sunny morning in San Benedetto.

Ciao Cindy and Wm

Below, two views from our balcony.