Italian pizza with rocket!

Yup, that leafy pile is rocket, on a pizza that helped power us
through the last part of the hike through Cinque Terre. (Shai did the
toughest two legs before I even had breakfast!)

>

Sunset at Cinque Terre, Italy

Looking south from Corniglia

You can just make out the next town in the string of five villages on
the coast. A hiking trail links them.

Pesto pizza at Cinque Terre

Yes, that green pool is pesto, delicious basil goo. On a pizza in
Vernazza, a village in the Cinque Terre chain on the coast of Italy.
Super thin crust, melty cheese, salty pesto. So delicious.

Message to Olga and her Enormous Basil Plant: Let's recreate this in
Virginia!

Travel day

Ok, follow along:

Rise and shine at Amsterdam hotel at 6:45 a.m. like a zombie.

Walk to tram station around corner. (Free)

Take tram line 2 to central train station (2,60 euro).

Take train to Amsterdam airport (4,30 euro)

Arrive at airport. Learn that my flight for 9:30 has been delayed an
hour.

Wish madly to have that hour of sleep back.

Wish denied.

Have bad coffee and a sausage pastry instead.

Wait.

Learn my lone backpack is too big for the EasyJet requirements. Cough
up an extra 22 euros. Sigh.

Wait at gate. Watch people board with huge carryons and multiple bags.
Curse the honesty fee paid earlier.

Finally depart Milan for the sky after 11a.m.

Land in Milan. Walk through a crazy ramshackle maze of ramps, moving
walkways, stairwalls.

Hear an alarm and banging going on by the elevator. Try to help
trapped passengers. Fail.

Reclaim backpack. Decide only to travel on British Airways from now
until my death.

Take bus from Milan's airport to Milan's train station (7 euro and 45
minutes).

Take train to Levanto (18,50 euro). It departs at 16:00 from Milan to
supppsedly arrive in Levanto a few minutes before 19:00.

Stare out the window at pastel buildings and lush hills and graffiti
walls.

Arrive at Levanto at 19:19. Look for next train to Cornelia. It comes
at 19:19.

Rush to buy ticket for 1,70 euro.

Wait 15 more minutes for train.

Get off at Cornelia at 19:45-ish. The choices are to walk 300-some
steps straight up or wait for the bus, which stops running at 20:00.

Catch the last bus. (1,50)

Find the hostel, a beautiful, spotless, simple hostel with bunkbeds
and clean bathrooms.

Walk around the corner and eat pasta while overlooking the Mediterrean
Sea as the sun fades into dusky pink.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

Maybe I'll never leave.

Crepes in Amsterdam

Yup, crepes in Amsterdam, at a Spanish tapas restaurant. These little
doughy sacks had spinach and a very pungent bleu cheese tucked inside.

Mmmm.

Picasso art in Vondelpark

Can you see it?

I think it's a bull, in the same Cubist style of Picasso's "Guernica."

Our bike guide told us it was one of only two outdoor Picasso
sculptures in the world.

Looking up at a bridge...

... from a boat on an Amsterdam canal

Nemo in Amsterdam

On the boat ride, we passed the botanical gardens, the zoo, a
windmill, the "skinny bridge" (only bikes and peds, thanks!), a spot
where you can see some insane amount of bridges (7? 9?), the city
hall, old warehouses converted into swanky lofts, and hundreds of
boats and houseboats tied up along the canal.

This is a shot of the waters north of the city. The large slanted
building is Nemo, spelled out letter by letter in four flags, the
children's museum.

Our guide mischievously pointed out that he likes it when the wind
blows from the west, and the flags spell OMEN.

Under a canal bridge

On a canal in Amsterdam

Shiloh and I hopped on a 75-year-old shallow steel (yes, steel - or so
we were told by our charming captain) boat for a 90-minute float
around Amsterdam. We had heard about a group of locals who offer such
trips for donations as a way to raise money for preserving such boats.
That sounded far more fun that an expensive trip on the large tourist-
jammed cartons that sail the waterways.

This picture was taken as we neared an extremely low bridge. To our
delight (the 8 or 10 visitors aboard) and the guide's amusement, we
all got down on our knees to duck and laugh.

After we got through the bridge, he announced that there was nothing
remotely interesting on the other side and that we would need to
immediately turn around and go back the way we came. :-)

Chocolates in Amsterdam

Shiloh has a special chocolate honing beacon, which aids him in
picking out the lone item with "chocolat" on a three-page menu or
spotting a chocolaterie blocks away.

Near Mike's Bikes, where we hopped on a city tour, is Pompadour, a
chocolate and pastry shop. We'd passed it a few times, shuttered,
until catching it open.

Shiloh ordered a hot chocolate, a deep, rich, warm creation with a
mini almond poundcake-ish treat.

I picked out three chocolates: an orange, an espresso, and an almond
caramel.

Total: just under 5 euros.

Soooo good!

Spiffy drinks at Casa e Cucina

A freshly squeezed carrot juice for me and an OJ for Shiloh at a cute
cafe near a laudromat in Amsterdam.

(Doing laundry is a great way to find real neighborhoods, as opposed
to tourist attractions. :-)

Pancakes as big as a frisbee!

One of the many lessons I've learned traveling is that guidebooks are
often out of date. The costs are too low (1,10 for a ride on the tram
in Amsterdam? No, no, that's 2,60 now.), the times wrong (where's the
11 a.m. bike tour? Oh, it's at 11:30 now... and there's also one at
noon!), and the restaurants, well, they close.

A lot.

You learn quickly to be flexible.

After two veggie-friendly restaurants didn't work out last night
(Green Planet had closed, despite all the rave reviews we read; the
one we were steered to next told us glumly, "We're out of food!"), we
ended up at The Pancake Bakery, near the Anne Frank House.

Pancakes seem very popular here, and (like crepes in France) come in
the sweet or savory variety.

I ordered a bacon, cheese, onion pancake, which literally flopped off
the edges of the plate.

It was crispy on the edges and built like a pancake I had in San
Francisco once - two fine layers with toppings hidden in the middle.
The bacon was so salty (seems to be an Amsterdam theme) and the cheese
quite delicious.

Shiloh got the apple and cheese pancake, which looked pretty similar
from the outside: "The salty fried cheese was the best."

Giant chess in the square in Amsterdam

Artsy doors

The doors in Amsterdam are so fun, colorful, cool.

Midget pancakes

I'll have to look up the Dutch name later, but the English menu called
these deluctable fried treats "midget pancakes." They are fluffier,
moister, more buttery than any pancakes I've met before. And dusted
with powdered sugar, ohhh my.

Pretty bike basket in Amsterdam

I'd like my bagel with Dutch cheese, mustard, pickles...

... And pine nuts, please. :-)

I wasn't so sure about the combination listed on the menu, but it was
great! The whole wheat bagel was fresh, dense, flavorful. Nice smooth
mustard and delicious Dutch cheese, hard and strong and yummy. And
with pickles!

I feel like I'm seeing the bagel sandwich in a whole new light.

(Around 4 euros at Bagels & Beans, btw.)

Salad in Brussels

A little flashback in time... A delicous shrimp (those little squiggly
pink things on top) and avocado salad at Le Mokafe in this long,
beautiful corridor of indoor shops called Galerie St. Huburt. The
other colorful edibles include potatoes, carrots, pearl onions (the
little translucent white balls on the right side), pickles, tomatoes.

I love how salads are all different combinations in different countries.

Picture-perfect Amsterdam

I arrived in Amsterdam this morning, after buying a "sucre" waffle at the train station and 100 kg. of Neuhaus chocolates (5-6 pieces... the clerk asked me: "Do you like bitter or more sugar?" - by which I think he meant, sugary or deep/rich/awesome chocolate. I said, "Bitter!" :-) The chocolates are meant to be shared with my friend Shiloh, who was flying from D.C. to meet me in Amsterdam. Hurray!

We're staying at a hotel right by the Vondelpark, a beautiful Central-Park-ish place with winding bike trails, twisty trees, ponds this way and that. So far, I really like Amsterdam. It feels lively yet safe. Most people smile, and they speak English, and they seem pleased to help when you get disoriented.

One nice man in the line at the park cafe shop told me I should order a koffie verkeerd -- literally translated, a "coffee done wrong." Lots and lots of milk and sugar, he told me. Yum. I will try that next time.

We got a bit disoriented on our first walk out, and ended up in a real neighborhood, the kind of spot with a Dollar Store (OK, a 1-euro store) and flat-screen TVs for sale and a strip of market with giant wheels of cheese. A small disc of camambert was 1,50 euro. We're coming back tomorrow for picnic fixings!

Amsterdam is also sunny. Brussels ... poor Brussels was chilly and a bit dank. A Floridian I met there said it was always like that. Hmpf.

Yesterday, I went to Ghent (this is very much a catch-up post, but soon I will send along a stream of photo... as soon as I locate free wifi ...), just a 40-minute train ride (9 euros round trip!) from Brussels.

You wonder (as I did): Does it look like Ghent, the wonderful Norfolk, Va., neighborhood?

Why, yes! The line of rowhouses by the Hague river in Norfolk look quite a bit like Ghent in Belgium.

But other than that, not so much.

Ghent felt more like a college town. Lots and lots and lots of chain shops, from H&M to Foot Locker to all sorts of European brands. Lots of cafes along cobblestone streets selling all sorts of beer in massive goblets. Castle-like cathedrals that make you crane your neck. There's no way to get the entire church, from sky-scrapping steeple to the steps, in a single camera shot.

A huge music festival is going on right now, but I only caught snippets of the music. A bit of jazz. A rock band jamming to a tiny crowd at the footsteps of a cathedral.

I ordered a kriek (I gotta look for the peach lambics, instead of sticking with the cherry all the time) and a croque hawaii -- which was purported to be a croque monsier (those dreamy, cheese-covered, ham-filled sandwiches in France) with pineapple!

I think ham and cheese and pineapple make sense on pizza, so this seemed like a reasonable invention. And it was quite tasty, the sweet pineapple and the salty ham going so well. Although... the cheese was on the inside, not the outside, like in the U.S., which alarmed me. What was this?!

Then I thought, calmmmmm down. It's a different country! They do things differently! Drink the dang cherry beer and be happy!

:-)

Now we're off to find Indonesian food in Amsterdam, walking along the canals and bridges with lots of purple and pink blossoms. More later!

The. Best. Waffle. Ever.

For 1,70 euro, hot from a street stand near the Bourse in Brussels. (I
read that I should avoid the tempting 4 euro tourist waffles heaped
with strawberries, Nutella, whipped cream and the like - so I waited
and waited until I finally found a simple and cheap stand. What a good
tip!)

Crispy, sugary, almost crackling on the outside. Warm and buttery and
doughy inside. Mmmmmm.

A warming fire in July in Brussels

It's chilly and drizzling in Belgium today. I finally used the full
capabilities of my zip-on convertible capri/pants. I wish my sandals
had a way to transform into waterproof sneakers. Hmm. Maybe a zip-on
shoe "roof"...

I took the metro to the central station area (i.e. Tourist Centrale)
and found a cafe (La Chaloupe d'Or) on the Grand Place, a beautiful,
elegant square that's empty except for an occasional cluster of
umbrella-capped tours.

I snagged the table right by the fire (yes, a fire in July, but it's
perfect today) and ordered a coffee. I'm beginning to understand the
addiction to this liquid gold. It warms me through and makes my body
both relax deliciously and feel attuned to the day ahead. Like a
wonderfully hot and refreshing morning shower for my mind.

Later: free tour at the EU headquarters, the BELvue history museum,
and world-class beer!

Brussels dinner: mussels, fries, beer

At Chez Leon, a sprawling restaurant in the center of the tourist
madness in Brussels. The beer is kriek, or cherry flavored. It was
light, sweet, and reminded me slightly of cough syrup.

(Where are the mussels?? In the salad, silly!)

Oh, and so far the fries, while crispy and tasty, are not wildly
better than the best in the States. Just in case you were wondering. :-)

A sign for thought..

.. Near the museums in Brussels...

A view of Brussels

Looking from uptown to downtown - the pentagon that makes up central
Brussels is all hill.

The chocolate capital

Chocolatiers are omnipresent here in Brussels. And open late (all the
better to lure the tourists).

The windows are decorated with luscious fruits, intricate patterns of
colorful treats, arrangements of individual chocolates of all types.
The pralines are the local specialty; I had one last night which
tasted much like a Lindt truffle but richer and with a hint of liquor.

A window at one of several Godiva shops:

Krispy Kreme, take note!

My breakfast on my first morning in Belgium (ok, I also had 2 rice
cakes at the hostel, but that didn't hold me long).

At Panos, what looked to be a chain, a "Couque Swiss" - a pudding-
filled pastry with raisins and a very sugary icing. For 90 cents.

Bonjour from Belgium!

Just a short post -- photo to come tomorrow -- from a hostel in Belgium. I landed here this afternoon, courtesy of a four-hour Eurolines bus ride, from Paris. Everything is so close in Europe. Paris-Belgium is about Virginia Beach-D.C. A weekend jaunt.

I dropped my bag off on a bunk bed and headed to see the Rene Magritte Museum, which just opened this year. He is a surrealist painter known for such odd images as a depiction of a pipe with the words "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" (This is not a pipe. Which, in fact, is true. It's a painting of one!). The museum is opened until 20:00 on Wednesdays, so I got in for the last 90 minutes. One of my favorite parts were the cryptic quotations in French on the wall and the nice takeaway booklet with translations.

Here is a sampling of the weird, romantic, unfathomable.

"Poetry is a pipe."

"Nothing is as strong a defense as love, which allows lovers to enter into an enchanted world which is perfect for them, and in which their isolation protects them admirably from the rest of the world."

"We mustn't fear daylight just because it almost always illuminates a miserable world."

The other thing I got out of the visit was his repeated denials that he intended any message by his art. Just images, he insists, as does his wife.

But then I look at something like his depiction of a woman's face with a torso imprinted on it: breasts as eyes, belly button as nose, pubic area as the mouth, and think... OK... that's just an image ... Ok, I'm trying here, Rene.

Then I read the title: "The Rape."

Really? You have no message, nothing you are conveying in this?

Why not call it something entirely random then, like: Owl Fingernail. Or ... Easter Egg Meadow.

Hmm. Maybe I'm not supposed to "get" it.

Concorde station up close

My favorite Paris metro station...

... Is Concorde. It connects multiple lines - including the 1 (Marais/
St. Paul, Bastille, Louvre) and the 12 (Abbesses/Montmartre, Pigalle).
It also places you right by the Musee d'Orangerie and a beautiful
gardens. More importantly for purposes of admiration, the walls and
ceiling are tiles of letters, like a giant word find.

Jardin du Luxembourg

I spent the afternoon today in the Jardin du Luxembourg, which has
cheerful blossoms and a fountain pond where small kids sail toy boats.
Their parents can rent one for a couple of euros, and the child uses a
stick to push it out to sea, where the wind carries it along.

I also caught two high school bands playing concerts by a stage shaded
by scattered trees. A least one seemed to be from the U.S. They played
"Saints Go Marching In," among others.

It was, though, a little disconcerting to hear strains of "A Whole New
World" from Disney's "Aladdin"!

Music by the Abbesses metro

We've caught several different swing bands playing in the square by
the Abbesses metro, but this one takes the cake. I'm not quite sure
how exactly the piano got into this hill of a neighborhood, but it
must have involved that board (pictured) with wheels!

Monet's water lilies

First, this is a horrid photo. But perhaps it will give you some vague semblance of how huge Monet's series of "Waterlilies" is at Musee d'Orangerie. There are eight, in two massive rooms designed specifically for them with oval skylights that let beautiful rays in. I had no idea they were so large, many, many feet long and many feet high. And they really do give you a lovely sense of being by a lake, with dropping trees, with flowers floating by ...

View from Musee d'Orsey

Can you spot the Sacre Coeur Basilica far, far off in the distance?

Eating vegetarian-style in Paris

My friend Trisha and I dove into veggie land at a charming little spot in Montmartre. One woman juggled both the kitchen duties and the six tables. I was impressed.

My vast dinner plate (12 euros) included carrots, cabbage, lettuce, tomato and onion salad, beans, rice, goat cheese, bread. Tasty and different from the typical baguette and brie situation.

Trisha had a similar plate but with vegetable pate on her bread and a veggie pie instead of the tomato-onion salad.

(What is vegetable pate? Mashed-up veggies? Any ideas?)

Gorgeous Musee d'Orsay

Musee d'Orsay is the most beautiful museum I've ever seen.

I imagine the Taggart Terminal to look something like this. I kept waiting for the trains to roll through and Dagny to gaze down from an overhead balcony. I'd always heard the Louvre, the Louvre, the Louvre is the museum to visit in Paris, but I can't imagine the Louvre is more amazing than this building. Is it?

I will find out shortly.

My favorite parts of the Musee d'Orsay were ...

- Scupltures by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, a French artist. He had this uncanny ability to capture people's personality in their faces, in a very deep and realistic way. I'd look at a bust of one of his friends (he liked to depict his buddies) and think, oh, he had a dry wit and was awfully intelligent but sometimes got a bit of a stick up his ... and then I'd think: How do I know that from a frozen face?!?
- Edgar Degas' ballerinas. Especially this one, "Répétition d'un ballet sur la scène," for its serene black-and-white palette. Degas liked to paint young ballerinas not on stage performing, but in the waiting wings or preparing or practicing. He also depicted their poses in 3-D, and who knows what else. He was quite the fan.
- Vincent Van Gogh's "La Nuit Etoilee" (or "Starry Night"). Yes, it's a classic; yes, it's on everything from mousepads to umbrellas. But there's a reason it's so beloved. It's unbelievably awesome. Viewed in person, it is so much richer than any poster or screensaver. Up close, super close, the brush strokes don't make a lot of sense. But a few feet away, even 10 feet or more, the painting puts you by the sea at night, the twinkling stars vivid against the dark emerald green sky, the midnight blue town laid out before you, gas lights aglow. I never noticed before the couple in the foreground or that the stars form the Big Dipper (or is it the Little Dipper?) constellation. I must have stood, transfixed, for 10 minutes.

There were also paintings by Cezanne (think portraits and apples), Monet (waterlilies, poppies), Manet (out-of-proportion families), Matisse (more lounging women) and goodness knows what else. The place is enormous.

Next up: the Louvre and Musee Rodin!

L'escargots pour moi!

Mmmmm, snails!

What do they taste like?

Hmm. Well, these weren't the ideal specimens, as they were drowned in pesto. Sort of squishy and salty and succulant, like mussels. Goooood.

Also, they come with a device to hold the shell still while you pluck out the inside with a teeny fork. It looks like a torture device for scooping out eyeballs.

I know, pleasant images all around!

Croque Monsieur for Monsieur Craig

My friend Craig is all about four food groups: meat, bread, cheese, potato. So the croque monsieur sandwich (sort of like an inside-out grilled cheese with ham) is perfect.

Almost.

If only he could swap that unspeakable green stuff for pommes frites ...

Bastille Day concert

Crepe origami

I'd like a crepe envelope, please! Avec champignons, s'il vous plait.

(If you buy one from a take-away window, it will come folded into a triangle wrapped in paper, all the better to munch while strolling the Seine.)

View of the city from Sacre Coeur

Looking down on Paris ...

J'adore les macaroons

Macaroons are possibly my favorite cookie in the world. They may look freakish (Candyland colors on a strangely mini hamburger-ish shape) but they are soooo good. And Paris is the place to eat them.


I finally had one from a really good bakery. Most any macaroon will taste yummy, but if you buy one from a bakery that sells them very fresh, individually, it will be so perfect. Light, creamy, full of flavor. And the flavors are so wacky and unexpected! There's the usual chocolate and coffee and vanilla and leprechaun-green pistacho. And then you'll find mango. Or peach. Or Earl Grey tea.

I picked these up from Dalloyau, an exquisite bakery in Paris. The one with sprinkles is, indeed, Earl Grey tea. And it was delicious.



A vanilla macaroon, up close and personal ...

Montmartre, high on a hill

In Paris Take II, I'm staying in a tiny studio apartment in the Montmartre neighborhood, high above the city.

It's a charming place. Lots of cafes, cobblestone streets, pizza parlors (?), artists hoping to sketch a tourist. We're by the Abbesses Metro stop, which seems to be jamming every time we arrive late, like on the night of Bastille Day. By jamming, I don't mean packed, although I do mean packed. I mean loud music, tipsy French hipsters, lots of hanging around. It's actually quite a reassuring sight at 2 a.m. I'll take a party over a deserted dark street any day.

A few days ago, we were headed out to the Metro and the compact plaza around the station was jamming with ... a band ... a swing band! Playing and hopping with old American tunes. My friend Craig and I were delighted. We put down our bags (after an awkward couple of moves) and danced a song or two. A woman by the bags smiled at us, and I thought, oh, she'll watch the bags.



When we finished a song, the woman asked us where we were from. Turns out that she's a dancer, too! From Connecticut. Such a small world.



(Can you tell I have use of Craig's laptop now? My succinct posts just went out the window...)

I like the buildings in our neighborhood with cats drawn on them. Winged cats, even.

Just a flight away from us (up, of course) is the Sacre Coeur, a basilica overlooking the city. The plaza is filled with people all the time, and a white locomative drives up the hill carrying tourists. We saw one performer climb a light pole and kick a ball with his feet while hanging from both arms.

Bastille Day in Paris

Yesterday (I am sorely behind on these posts, so this will have to be an out-of-sequence post... I will go back and recap the first few days in Paris later) was Bastille Day. I didn't mean to be in Paris on Bastille Day, but if you ever get a chance, don't miss it. The French know how to throw a grand celebration.

First, we got up early to see the parade. We didn't make it all that close, unfortunately, but we did see the flyover perfectly. Now, I've seen a flyover or two in my life. In Virginia Beach, at the Naval Academy graduation, at Opening Day in Arizona. Typically, six or eight or so jets scream overhead in a perfect V formation. It's exciting, stirring, fleeting.

This time, the jets trailed with red, white and blue exhaust. And then, after they blurred by, came more goose-V formations. Of all shapes and kinds: a couple of jets and a couple of planes; one with a huge satellite on top and a few jets with it, more big planes. They kept coming and coming. Eventually came the helicopters. (By that point, I was settled into a seat at a cafe, talking to two friendly Australians.) It was impressive.

That afternoon, we met up with a friend of Craig's from Austin who was coincidentally in Paris. With her came two other dancers on their way to Scotland to teach swing, and two Canadian travelers they met at Versailles, and before you knew it, we had a gang of newly minted friends. I love that the swing dance community is filled with such just-add-water connections.

We all walked and walked over to Hotel Invalides and Napoleon's decadent tomb.


If you think the outside is lavish, you should see the inside with the gilded, painted dome ceiling and a circular view of a gigantic shiny brown coffin. You can view it from above or ground-level.


A band was playing in the courtyard of the Musee de l'Armee, majestic marches that made me think of Sousa and high school band. The museum (of the Army) itself had displays of knight armor, horse armor, spears, cannons, etc. It also had what looked like an air show of helicopters and tanks in the front lawn, making me a little homesick for Norfolk/Virginia Beach.

Eventually, we walked and walked our way to the Eiffel Tower and found the last good plot of space left at the Champs de Mars. (Think the Washington, D.C., mall on the Fourth, but filled with picnics with cheese and wine).

We all brought picnic goodies to share, so it was quite a feast: baguette, brie, fresh mozzarella (I love how what would be fancy mozzarella in the States, fresh and stringy and sealed in a bag with a bit of water, is marked "Discount Mozzarella" in Europe), avocado, strawberries, an entire little chicken, couscous salad, chips... then two trips to the little bakery around the corner produced eclairs and chocolate tarts, sliced carefully into many little pieces... it was wonderful.


In Paris in the summer, it stays light until very late. At 10 p.m., it feels like 7 in America. (The times also coincide when the citizens of each nation are eating their dinner.)

Around 7 or 8, a concert began on the Champs de Mars. We didn't know the performers, or the words, but we could dance and bop our heads like all the Europeans around us. They played a few songs with English words, including "Born to be Wild," which cracked me up.

Finally, about 10:40, when the sky had just settled into soft blue-grey ripples, the last pattern before nightfall, the fireworks began.

Wow, what a light show.

2009 marks the 120th anniversary of the Eiffel Tower. The light show marched through the ages, splashing a year in lights on the tower, and then playing with that year in lights and music and colors to depict, say, WWII or the 1980s or the building of the tower itself. It was awesome. I hope to find a link online to a video of it.

C'est fantastique.

And then we made the requisite long metro ride home and tumbled into bed around 3:30 a.m. People were still partying in the streets, but sleep tugged at me.