FRANCE 2007

“I’ll go to Iceland on one condition, Tom, we go to France in April,” I repined last August. Well, I went to Iceland. (Actually, it was quite wonderful.) But it’s April now and I want to go to France! So, we leave tomorrow at daybreak for almost three weeks of Paris, Alsace, the French Alps, Provence and a quick trip on the ‘bullet-fast’ train TGV to Brussels, Belgium. As usual I will be posting images and words of our exploits. Stay tuned…

Update on April 14, 2007 by stacie

April 11-12 … The great memory of the flight over the pond was not the cuisine, to be sure. It was my great good fortune to be sitting next to Charles (pr. “Charl”) and his lovely femme, Monique. They were Belgians, no less. And smart-ass Tom had to ask them whether they had ever met Hercule Poirot. “Sadly, no,” Charles said, “he’s dead now.” We arrived in Paris in the bleary dawn, just like every other trip to Europe. We arrived by bus at our “Splendid Etoile” Hotel (never has the word “splendid” been so overtaxed) and found the courage to nap and then walk around the City of Lights. Jet lag was not our friend and we limped, Tom nearly in tears, to an unlikely bistro where Tom tried the patience of the waiter and mangeld the language of the Enlightenment. Then the sleep of the dead. Ce tout.

Update on April 14, 2007 by stacie

April 13 … Our gentle readers must understand that yesterday was really two days collapsed (and I emphasize collapsed) into one. This was our first real day a` Paris. Here’s the Reader’s Digest version: 1. Woke up and trundled to the bowls of the Splendid for our “marathoners only” breakfast (petit dejeuner); 2. City tour on tour bus with gaggle o’ marathoners; 3. Braved le metro to Marathon Expo; 4. Made a pilgrimage to the cemetery where Tom’s hero, Jim Morrison, lit his final fire; where Edith Piaf lies amid a peprpetual bouquet of appreciative flowers; and where the great man, Oscar Wilde, is missed and admired with great ardour; 5. It goes without saying we stopped at a fromagerie (cheese shop), bought bread and cheese and munched them on the hoof as we walked through the city; 6. Notre Dame (need I say more?); 7. Tom had to stop across the bridge at Shakespeare and Co., a bookstore of some renown among the literary set; 8. Ironically, the most difficult task of the day was finding the perfect dining location in the middle of the Latin Quarter (an embarrassment of riches?) 9. The metro was on fire (really!) so we took a taxi back to the hotel and promptly fell asleep.

Update on April 14, 2007 by stacie

April 14 … Tom insisted on taking it easy, so all I asked was that we go to the Rodin Museum. We left the hotel at 9:00 a.m. Eight hours later we limped back home, Tom a complete wreck, worried sick for the high temperatures and feeling lousy, so he keeps saying. So this is why I sit here writing my journal. I suckered him into going to the Louvre after we did the Rodin Museum. But before that I had to stop for lunch and a glass of Bordeaux. Oh, and did I mention all the shops I had to peek into along the way? It’s 82 degrees and it should be 55. Is W responsible, or what? I see runners dropping like flies tomorrow. Tom wants to take it easy tonight, but we’re in Paris, there will be nothing easy about dinner tonight. Perhaps I’ll find a bistro close by. Perhaps not …

Update on April 16, 2007 by stacie

April 15…Marathon day. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I didn’t run, drank cafe latte at an outdoor bistro, then found an excellent boulangerie for a bread and wine lunch. (Best of times) Eighty degrees, a sprained ankle and not enough training were Tom’s reasons for his worst performance ever in the marathon. (Worst of times) I began to worry when Tom didn’t get to the finish line at the 4h30m mark. Runners were dropping like flies and ambulances were carting them away. I was certain Tom was one of those”flies.” As time approached the five hour mark I decided I’d flag down a paramedic and ask if they administered CPR to an Irish-looking dude wearing a green t-shirt and black hat. It was then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Tom stumbling down the massed street. I darted in and out of the crowd and reached Tom just as he was about to pass out and walked him safely back to the hotel. I wiped my brow and poured myself a glass of Bordeaux while Tom got ready for dinner.

Update on April 17, 2007 by stacie

April 16…We got our rental car and headed for Colmar (in the Alsace region) at noon. What I thought would be a two hour drive turned into six. Oh, and no one told us about the nine or so tolls that cost 50 euro. Nevertheless, the drive was beautiful - Tom did all the driving, I did all the snoozing. By the time we got to Colmar I was famished. We settled in to our 17th century hotel, La Maison des Tetes, (the house of heads) and “headed” out for dinner. I haven’t mentioned much about the food we’ve been eating mostly because I’ve been trying to focus on less important issues but it’s time to get serious. I really must mention this meal. I started with a glass of regional wine - Pinot Noir - the only red grape grown in Alsace. Next, a course the French call Amuse Bouche, (entertainment for the mouth), an exceptional cream of cauliflower soup, followed by white asparagus wrapped in bacon and served with a creamy custard. The main course - rack of lamb. Then a cheese course. Then dessert. OK? The whole event lasted more than three hours. Cuisine francaise tres elegant, oui?

Update on April 18, 2007 by stacie

April 17…It was another beautifully warm day. We’ve had nothing but pure sunshine and high 70’s since our arrival in France. Loves it! Anyway, breakfast, yes, yes breakfast. It started like this: fresh, sweet grapefruit and youghurt; steaming croissants; assortment of meats; locally made cheeses and cafe latte. OK? Then, a four hour walk around the quaint village of Colmar stopping at various shops, snapping photos, you know, the usual tourist schtick. A short break at the hotel before dinner included a fresh baguette, cheese and a glass of vino.

Update on April 20, 2007 by stacie

April 18/19…We wanted to get an early start. We had to drive through Switzerland to get to Chamonix, France, and Tom was worried because he told Hertz we’d never leave France. Well, we did. We drove through Basel, Bern, Montreaux, and then up into the Alps, crossing back into France and finally into the ski resort town of Chamonix. The hotel I chose was 5k outside of town. It was a ski chalet up a hillside in the mountains We had a pool, hottub, steamroom and a deck with views of the Alps and Mt. Blanc. It was fabulous. Chamonix is a lot like Vail, only French. We spent the better part of a day walking around the town, shopping, eating and chatting with the locals. When we returned to our car to head back to our chalet we had a ticket on the windshield. Tom, wanting to discuss the matter with someone, went into the store we parked in front of and in his best French asked the shop owner, “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?) The owner replied, “A ticket, yes?” Tom laughed and said, “Yes, but pourquoi?” The owner said, “I don’t know. They change the rules throughout the day. You are a visitor, yes?” Tom said, “Oui, stupid Americans!” The owner laughed and said, “You can go back and just forget about the ticket, then, oui?” Oui!

Update on April 20, 2007 by stacie

April 20…Onward en Provence. Three hundred miles in a projected 4.5 hours cutting through the heart of the Rhone Valley. Tres magnifique!

Update on April 21, 2007 by stacie

April 20…Our first day in Aix en Provence started out rather shakily. Lost, hot and tired, Tom was navigating his way throught the congested streets of Aix in search of our hotel. We found it by sheer luck. It appeared before our eyes just like a mirage apparition to someone lost in the desert. But this was real. And it was our hotel, the St. Christophe. And what little Irish luck Tom had was still in enough supply that we not only found the hotel but a parking space, as well. Perhaps our gentle reader does not appreciate just how remarkable the parking space discovery is. Think New York City. OK? Our room was, well, small. Tom said, “Um, yeah, no.” So, we got a “plus grande chambre” much more to his liking. We went down to the hotel restaurant to get something to eat. No food served until 7:00 pm! Hot, tired, hungry and cranky, we set out on foot to get a bite of something, anything. We ended up at a traditional Provencal bistro.There we met the Provencal charmer, whom we call Francois, all charm and twinkle in the eye. He spoke 14 languages, including Frasi and Afgani (or so he said). Tom had some dark meaty Provencalian secret recipe from the Middle Ages. I had leg o’ lamb, and I mean the whole leg, down to the hoof - very French, to be sure. I also had a demi-carafe of some distinctively Provencalian vino, not quite so dark and “rougey” as I am used to, but very tasty. My vin-horizons are expanding, quite nicely, merci beaucoup (just like Tom’s waist-line - know what I mean, Norton?). Then a late night stroll through the old town, during which we got lost. The serpentine alleys reminded us of Prague. Food, food, food, everywhere. Home to bed at midnight.

Update on April 23, 2007 by stacie

April 21 … We were tourists all day in the serpentine streets of Aix en Provence. We ducked into a chapel tucked inconspicuously off one of the side streets because Gregorian chant was wafting from it into the air and mixing with the smells of fresh bread and the cacophony of the crowds. Inside it was cool and dark and a solitary old man knelt in the back reading from a missal. Tom said that in the old days everyone had a missal. He had not seen someone using one in 40 years. We put some euro in the offering box to pay for the privilege of filming. It got toward two o’clock and we decided to mingle with the natives at one of the outdoor cafes. We sat between a lone woman and a couple. The lone woman began to chat with us. And then some. Wow, so much chatting we had not heard. She was tough chick, full of opinions about the ways of the world. Algerian born, and a business woman who had opened her own boulangerie and was busting her buns (no pun intended) to make a go of it. She told us about the deeply entrenched French class consciousness, the unapologetic gamesmanship that accompanies not declaring income and dodging taxes and the bureaucratic BS one must surmount to get started in business. It was with some deft and craft that we extricated ourselves from her without causing her to feel like we were cutting her off. But we were. Lots more to see. Lots more to eat, OK? So eat we did. Dinner was exceptional. No, really. It had to be the best meal I’d ever eaten. I may have said that before and I meant it at the time but this one tops them all. It was called Pasta Cosy, a little nondescript place you’d miss if you blinked, but, I’m sorry, my instincts were right, as usual. It started with an aperitif of champagne, next, tapas de crepe gorgonzola, asparagus soup and risotto con truffle and a main course of ravioli stuffed with Italian white truffles in a cream sauce with grated black truffles on top. I’ve never tasted the likes before.Then there was Fabian. That’s right, Fabian. Think of George Clooney’s cuter younger brother. Are you hearing me? If you thought Francois from last night was good looking, you’ve not met Fabian. He was all over us with disarming Frenchified lilting stories, OK? The attention he showered on us was nearly as good as the chow. On the way home in the cool night, with a slip of moon peeping over the towering roof tops we stopped at the Abbey of the Grand Augustins because Tom is nothing if not about tracing the history of the Church. It is now a hotel but from the 11th to the 18th centuries it was the Abbey of the Grand Augustin monks. Among whom was Martin Luther, no less. Travel is so broadening, n’est-ce pas? One last word - about truffles. They are to this region like salmon are to the Northwest - more than food, close to a religion. OK?

Update on April 23, 2007 by stacie

April 22… On to Avignon today. La Cite de Papes. In the 14th century the Holy See moved from Rome (one step ahead of the posse?) and established itself in the improbable town of Avignon, France. Not coincidentally, all of the popes during the “Avignon Papacy” were French. We’re saving our exploration of Avignon for tomorrow. Today we went straight to our chateau, Le Mas de la Treille. It is difficult to describe just how fanciful and story-book like this place is. One can try to imagine the quintessential south of France Provencal chateau cum farmhouse, all dolled up to look like someone’s fantasy, and you would only be half way to what we found here. Unbelievably, we are the only guests in the whole place. It is a two story stone structure from the 18th century with a pool and manicured grounds, with old plane trees guarding the entrance and gracing the yard and orange tree in blossom and wisteria and jasmine blooming everywhere, making one think she’d died and gone to a parfumerie. Our hosts, a Vietnamese monsieur named Son, and a Frenchman from Lilles named Alberic, are the definitions of hospitality. They are making dinner for us, which we must eat before the election results come in. We biked through the vineyards that surround this place and stopped for lunch at a brasserie in the quaint medieval town of Saint Laurent on the top of a little hill not a half a kilometer from our chateau. They did not take credit cards, so we had to give the Madam our word we would return and biked quickly back to our chateau for euro. Then back to Saint Laurent to pay our lunch bill. This is high adventure in Provence for naive American tourists. Tomorrow…impressions of Avignon. Until then, bon appetit.

Update on April 24, 2007 by stacie

April 23…We were up at the crack of 10:00 for breakfast in the vineyards under a sunny Provencal sky. After petit dejeuner, we made our way to Avignon. We visited the Palace of the Popes, climbed hundreds of stairs to a garden overlooking the Rhone River and, on Tom’s insistence, took an ice cream break. We were in search of the Pont d’ Avignon. From our ice cream perch we spotted it and climbed down a series of circular stairs inside a rook-like castle to get to it. Eight euro later we were strolling down (Tom did an Irish jig) the Pont d’ Avignon, enjoying the breeze off the Rhone. Next stop, my favorite wine region in France, Chateauneuf du Pape. It’s only 20K north of Avignon but we managed to get lost. We stopped to ask for directions from a couple of true “Frenchies”. One guy said, “Go left” the other said,”Non! non! non! Go right!” (all in French, of course) and then they began to quarrel whilst we stood there watching and laughing. We got to the quaint village of Chateauneuf du Pape in time to stop for several wine tastings (degustations, non?) at various “caves” and I purchased just about everything I tasted. It was fantastic. We dined at the only restaurant in town, La Mere Germaine. Not wanting to upset our waiter we ordered the four course meal with wine. “Fine”, I said, “Give me pate.” ” Oui,” I cried , “Give me Penne au Foie Gras.” “ Why not,” I screamed, “Serve me a cheese course.” and “S’il vous plait,” I wailed, “Treat me to dessert!.” Coffee?” Are you kidding, it’s 10:00 at night - bring it on!

Update on April 26, 2007 by stacie

April 24/25…The abbreviated version of the last two day goes something like this - Drove from Avignon to Paris in eight hours. Tom freaked out while driving in Paris to return rental car. Asked for wake-up call next morning for 5:30am to catch TGV to Brussels. Missed wake-up call and train to Brussels. Bought new tickets for 150.00 euro to get to Brussels. Spent day wandering streets of Brussels. Back to Paris by 8:30pm. Showered. Dined at bistro, like real Parisians - 10:30 pm. Fell asleep by midnight. Return to States tomorrow. Au revoir et bonne chance, France.

ICELAND 2006

August 16…Why, oh why, am I going to Iceland? Mostly because Tom wanted to, but after I agreed to go (on the condition we go to France in April) I started researching the island and am utterly intrigued by what I’ve read. I can’t wait to get this trip started. We depart at noon today flying on Icelandic Air which, by the way, allows carry-on luggage so my laptop separation anxiety has waned. An apocryphal tale to get the trip started…An Icelandic magistrate discovered that the Arctic Circle ran right through his house. He decided that it not only bisected his bedroom, it bisected his bed: the magistrate slept on one side of the Arctic Circle, his wife on the other and rarely did either cross the great divide.

Update on August 16, 2006 by stacie

August 16…It’s 6:45 p.m. in Minneapolis and our flight to Iceland has just been delayed for about forty-five minutes. It is apparent the flight is full of Icelanders because the check-in gal (a Minnesotan) is stumbling repeatedly over names like Brennisteinsalda, Eyvindayhver, Raufarholshellir and Magnus. Her butchery is music to my ears. The flight to Reykjavik is only five and one half hours so my iPod battery will outlast the flight..whew. Before departing Phoenix I made sure I downloaded several short films, some Hitchcock episodes and a good audiobook so I’m set.

Update on August 17, 2006 by stacie

August 17…We touched down on Iceland soil at about 6:30 a.m., which was 11:30 p.m. Phoenix time. The airport is 40 minutes from Reykjavik. The road to the capital took us through a lunar landscape of recent volcanic activity uncharacteristic of the rest of Iceland. We arrived at Hotel Odinsve, in the heart of Reykjavik, and were greeted with a smorgasbord breakfast: smoked salmon, shrimp, salami, an assortment of delicious breads, granola, fruit, you get the picture. Delicious. I haven’t mentioned how tired I am because I’m trying not to think about it but I’m tired! As with past trips out of the country Tom established rules about sleeping. Rule #1-No sleeping! Rule #2-No sleeping! Of course, he always breaks the rules but they’re out there for me to follow. So, I scheduled a city tour for 2:30 in the afternoon just so we’d be forced to stay awake. I hope to capture some interesting images of the city and retreat to the hotel for some well deserved rest.

Update on August 17, 2006 by stacie

August 17…Our tour of the city was great but the photos were not. It seems Reykjavik is having something of a heat wave with nary a cloud in the sky. It must have been 70 degrees-very rare since the high is usually 52 degrees this time of year. Bright, sunny, mid-day skies-not so good for photography-excellent for my attitude. Anyway, on to dinner. For convenience we ate at the hotel restaurant. The place is called SiggiHall and is named after the chef. Only later did I find out the chef and the restaurant are quite famous. We started with a sample of shrimp, graflax and spiced herring with tartar-smetana. Next, cod baked under olive and herb crust with spring turnips, pearl onions, lima beans and sea weed with extra virgin olive oil from Umbria. Finally, pannacotta with skyr, apple sorbet, lime, ginger and caramel sauce and mint-apple-lime salad. Throw in a glass of wine or two between courses and, well, it was worth the 13,000 kronur we had to shell out.

Update on August 18, 2006 by stacie

August 18…I won’t go in to details but suffice it to say we slept in. So much so that we nearly missed breakfast. Today is a day of rest as the marathon is tomorrow. We were told it was an easy 30 minute walk to the Expo to get our numbers for the race. It wasn’t. An hour into the stroll I asked Tom, “Are we there yet?” He mumbled, “Almost.” Sure walking on the bike path that runs along the sea was beautiful but beauty can only take one so far. At some point one has to wonder…where’s the WC and convenience store? I’m parched. We finally stumbled upon the Expo, got the race packet and headed back to the hotel. By the time we got there my shoes had worn a small blister on my toe. Perfect. A blister before the race, how fortunate for me. We are going back for a “Pasta Party” later tonight. We are taking the bus.

Update on August 19, 2006 by stacie

August 19…I’ve got one word for you-WINDY! Oh, there was wind. I’ve got two more words for you-NOT FLAT! Despite these two important factors the run was beautiful. The gun went off at 10:00 am for the half marathon so we had plenty of time to eat and hydrate beforehand. I’m awaiting official results but I’d say I had a mediocre race whilst Tom did quite well. Anymore it’s not about the finish time it’s about the journey to get there. This, I think, is the beginning of wisdom, a sentiment with which, I’m sure, my old coach Fred would agree. The race has brought people from all over the world to the capital city of Iceland. There is a celebration separate from the marathon today. It is called Culture Day-a street festival with art, music, literature, food, dance and everything in between. After our traditional Icelandic dinner we will be attending a free performance by some of Iceland’s most famous opera singers. Time for a nap before the evening’s festivities.

Update on August 22, 2006 by stacie

August 19…I’ve neglected writing for a few days. I was a bit under the weather and pretty busy. Let’s see, where should I begin? We decided to treat ourselves to a fine dinner after the race. We went to Laekjarbrekkja and dined sumptuously on highland lamb and Icelandic lobster. Tres Magnifique! It was then out into the streets for Culture Night. The streets, once deserted, now athrong with revellers. We heard a tenor singing Puccini from a restaurant balcony and Icelandic rock from the street corners. We stopped at a bakery for pastry and watched the fireworks explode in front of a cobalt electric blue 11:00 o’clock night sky. We chatted with an elderly Icelandic couple who chided us for wearing shorts on such a chilly night. “Oh,” I said slyly, “This is warm compared to where we come from.” We hit the sheets at midnight but didn’t sleep ‘til 4:00 a.m. for the cacophony outside our window.

Update on August 22, 2006 by stacie

August 20…Late for the bus! I guess 9:00 a.m. really means 8:30 in Icelandic. I delayed sixty people on a crazy tour bus while Tom toweled off. Call it my way of making friends and influencing people. Anyway, after all the hard stares the tour got underway. We took the “Golden Circle” tour.
Without boring you with the details, suffice it to say we toured for ten hours and saw many of the notable sights outside the Reykjavik area: the rift valley between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates where the first parliament in all of Europe took place; THE GEYSIR from which the word geyser is derived; the largest waterfall in all of Europe, which was saved singled-handedly from destruction by the efforts of a young farm girl, Sigridur Tomasdottir; the infamous and ominous Hekla, the quintessential and scary destructive volcano. After all that we stopped at the Blue Lagoon, a thermal sea water hot spring with healing properties. It was other-worldly.

Update on August 22, 2006 by stacie

August 21…It was United Nations at the Avis counter. The wait took forever so I napped in the lobby while Tom stood in line. But we were on the Ring Road before noon. We were heading northeast to Akureyri, the second largest city in Iceland at 15,000 people. Iceland is all about waterfalls and rocky escarpments that jut up from the land in unnatural steepness and, of course, the ever present fjordurs (a word that Tom finds irresitible to pronounce - he thinks he can speak Icelandic now). The drive that should have taken five hours took seven as we finally pulled into the Ibudir Guesthouse parking lot at about 7:30 p.m. It is a quaint place, half apartment, half B&B with a gruff, surly, no nonsense landlady named Inge. Don’t get her mad! Tom tried to ask her a question while she was busy doing something and it took all she had not to take a swing at him with her meaty forearm. With plenty of daylight left we took a walk about town and found a delightful restaurant on the top floor of a building on the waterfront. We sat outside. From our perch we watched a cruise ship embark for the Arctic Ocean.

Update on August 22, 2006 by stacie

August 22…Our first day to really sleep in and we took advantage of it. I’m not sure how I did it but I slept until 10:00 a.m. I awoke to a bright blue cloudless calm morning. It was heavenly, a day I won’t soon forget. We took a drive up the east side of Eyjafjordur. The light was coming from the west, shining through a brilliant blue arctic sky. It lit up the landscape with sublime beatific effulgence. Tom said it was psychadelic electric. But I leave all that silliness to him. We stopped in the middle of this dreamy landscape at Laufas (“leaf mountain” in Icelandic). We had rhubarb pie (delish!) and coffee (“kaffi”) and talked to the owner about pronunciations of Icelandic words. It must have been 75 degrees as we strolled the grounds peering into the windows of the turf houses and the old church, against a backdrop of snow-covered peaks, waterfalls and late summer flowers.

Update on August 22, 2006 by stacie

August 23…They say it rains a lot in Iceland. We’ve seen no evidence of that. As we begin our journey to the Arctic Circle the forecast is sunny skies with a high of 70 degrees and winds at two miles per hour. What?! Can you say global warming? I thought I’d need at least a jacket when I stepped over the imaginary line. I’m not complaining. The weather has been fantastic. It’s just that it’s not at all what I expected. Anyway, we drive to Dalvik, hop on a ferry for a three hour ride through the Arctic Ocean/Greenland Sea to the island of Grimsey where we actually cross 66 degrees, 33 minutes north. To be continued…

Update on August 23, 2006 by stacie

August 23…Later that evening…I didn’t think we’d top yesterday but, well, we did. The sea was as smooth as glass. The sun was brilliant. Porpoises swam in the wake of the boat. The glacial headlands fell behind us like some receding Faerieland. It took over three hours to go a mere twenty-four miles. We sat on the upper deck, open to the arctic sun. They said there had not been a day like this in a decade. After we disembarked we found the one road on the island and set out to conquer the Circle. Oh, we conquered it! We hiked beyond the Circle to the edge of the island and sat atop a grassy down that fell off into a sheer cliff three hundred feet to the ocean. There were thousands of birds singing and circling as we picniced on the grassy precipice. Tom was sweating worse than he was in the half-marathon. Oh, it was warm! Then back to the tiny grocery for water and to the bakery where we got our certificates attesting to having bested the Arctic Circle. An exclusive club has two new members.

Ireland 2006

May 18…Who chose this flight? It’s three-thirty in the morning and I’ve got to get ready to hop on a plane departing at 6:00 a.m. for Shannon, Ireland. A 10:00 a.m. flight would have been pleasant. Alas, it’s time to get out of Phoenix for a while. It’s already 80 degrees in the moonlight.

Update on May 18, 2006 by stacie

Later that morning…Tom’s crabby and cramped in the middle seat. I’ve the aisle seat across from the much visited loo! I’ve got the dry heaves. Luckily we are de-planing in Newark for a connecting flight to Shannon. We will have aisle seats in the middle of the plane-nowhere near the lavatory. I was sleeping when the stewardi delivered the breakfast but when I awoke the remains of Tom’s food were on my tray table: a chocolate muffin wrapper, a box of corn flakes and some semi-hard raisins. I’m happy to have slept through it. I brought a movie to watch on my laptop, The Ruling Class, but it never piqued my interest so I’m now trying to get my mind off the smells of el bano (I can’t insert the necessary tilde over the “n” in bano but you know what I mean) by writing this and listening to Peter Gabriel. It’s not working very well.

Update on May 18, 2006 by stacie

Even later that day…At the Newark Airport for a four hour delay we, of course, got something to eat straightaway. I decided I needed to develop my beer palate for this Irish excursion so I had a Sam Adams with my lunch. I much prefer a nice Pinot Noir but Ireland isn’t known for wine so…

Update on May 19, 2006 by stacie

On the plane to Ireland…After an hour of waiting in the plane on the tarmac, listening to inanities from a spirited and irritating stewardi we finally took off. We are flying on Continental Airlines, whose dubious motto -”We have a passion for being on time,” left much to be desired. Yeah, well, “passion this!” I scream. Luckily the flight is only five hours from Newark, which might explain why the plane is no larger than the one we were on from Phoenix to Newark. No free booze, either. Tom had to front me the five bucks for a glass of vino. The dinner that was served was, er, well, yeah, no. I’d better have another glass of vino to keep up my carb intake while I listen to The Pernice Brothers on my iPod.

Update on May 19, 2006 by stacie

May 19…I’ve no idea what time we landed, what time we got the rental car or what time we actually made it to Abbeyfeale. In fact, I’ve no idea what time it is as I write this. I’m so tired I don’t care. I’ve now been awake for 32 hours-too tired to continue this journal entry. Until tomorrow…

Update on May 21, 2006 by stacie

May 20…We woke this morning from the sleep of the dead having crammed two nights of slumber into one. Standard issue instant coffee in our room would simply not do. I headed out for a latte with the oh so yummy Irish cream I’ve come to crave. On my walk back to the hotel my acute sense of smell led me to a bakery where scones and soda bread were just coming out of the oven. If I’d had more euros in my pocket I’d have bought the lot. So, we began our journey north with a chunk of Galway cheddar, soda bread and plenty of sunshine. That’s right, sunshine. A glorious day was spent driving through the Connemara region with the sun in our eyes. A stop in the village of Clifden for an espresso and a slice of rhubarb pie was all Tom needed to continue his Mario Andretti maneuvers on the narrow, Irish roadways. Yikes! From Clifden we went up the Killary fjord through Westport, inland to Castlebar and north to Ballina to our final destination of Ballycastle.

Update on May 21, 2006 by stacie

May 21…The sun is shining, the coffee-brewing, the view-spectacular, who could ask for more? Well, me. There is no internet connection so I’m unable to post my photos and journal entries. I will have to drive 27 km to Ballina (pronounced Bal-in-naw) and visit an internet cafe to get online. If you’re reading this I’ve succeeded. But first things first. We’ve got the famous Lacken Strand Races to attend. Lacken Strand is a huge stretch of beach and once a year people from all over Europe converge for horse races held on the beach…a must-see I’m told.

Update on May 22, 2006 by stacie

Later that day…To quote myself…er, well, yeah, no. What started out as a most perfect morning turned in to a most miserable day. We got to the beach just as it hit, gale force winds and rain that could rival a Phoenix monsoon. The sand was blowing across the beach like a Saharan sand storm all the while the crazy Irish horse enthusiasts were out in full force betting on and watching the races. I watched from the comfort of our rental car. I’d had enough after about ten minutes but we stayed to watch a couple of races and then left on my quest to find an internet cafe. My search was a success as you know by reading this. Well, tomorrow is another day and I hope to spend it driving to Sligo to visit W.B. Yeats’ grave and hiking to Slieve League, Europe’s highest cliff face. I’m confident the weather will change for the better at least for five minutes.

Update on May 22, 2006 by stacie

May 22…The sun is shining yet again but this time I will not be fooled…Oh, there’s rain right behind the next cloud I can feel it. We are off for Sligo and Slieve League today. I hope to finally sit down in a nice restaurant and have a full meal. Sure, I’ve eaten…a morsel of bread here, a slice of cheese there, but there has been no fine dining experience. I know what you’re thinking-fine dining and Irish food are contradictory. As true as that may be, we are headed for one of the busiest fishing ports in all of Ireland where seafood reigns supreme. I’ll let you know the outcome.

Update on May 22, 2006 by stacie

Later that day…Finally! I’m not ashamed to admit I need civilization (and the internet) to feel like going on. Sure, a lonely, desolate, windswept and rainy day can be nice once in a while. Wait. No it can’t. Who am I fooling. I can’t stand it and yesterday was as bad as it gets. Today? Yes, today I’m in heaven. As I sit in the luxurious Bayview Inn overlooking Donegal Bay in Killybegs, I’m consuming an outstanding bowl of seafood chowder, a slice of warm brown bread smothered in butter and a pint of Smithwick’s. When I finish here I’m off to explore the town of Killybegs while Tom naps. To each her own, I say. We visited the grave of Yeats in Sligo and tomorrow we take a boat out on the North Atlantic to Slieve League.

Update on May 23, 2006 by stacie

May 23…It turns out the weather was far better than the food yesterday. The sky was crystal clear and there was very little wind. Killybegs is rather quaint with not much to choose from when it comes to dining. We had fish and chips in the hotel restaurant….I’d rather not talk about it. So, on to today’s adventure. We woke at 9:30 am just in time for the Irish breakfast the hotel offers-gratis. My goal for today was to see Slieve League and as I’ve been told, what Stacie wants, Stacie gets. Anyway, we started out for Teelin, the boat tour origin. Through the village of Kilcar I saw a small, handwritten sign for a local weaver selling hand-knit Donegal wool sweaters 5 km up the road. “Let’s stop for a sweater,” I begged. Five kilometers turned in to five stops asking for directions, through twisted glens, over peat-colored brooks, through slanting rain and confusion. We stopped, finally, at Dun Ulun House, a quaint and cozy, slate-roofed cottage where we met Margarhet. Her directions, like most Irish directions, were to go to the top of the steep hill and there she’d be on your left. Sure enough, she was. Michael’d been dead these six years but Mary kept up the trade. I got my sweater and we were off for Slieve League on the edge of the world. The first sign we saw to the summit we took. We found out later it was a sheep track but not before we were sliding backwards on the edge of a praecipice in the driving rain. They call it the Pilgrim’s Track and boy, was Tom doing a lot of praying. He was in full-tilt panic, backing up between a ditch and sheer cliff face, mud up to our axles. The sheep on the hillside were the only witnesses to our demise. I, on the other hand, had to hold back the laughter. Saints be praised, we made it down the hillside into the dock at Teelin to inquire after a boat. “There’ll be no boatin’ today what with the wind wippin’ the way ‘tis,” screamed Paddy above the gale. But all was not lost-what Stacie wants, Stacie gets! “We will see Slieve League if it kills you, Tom,” said I in my calmest of tones. We were told there was another road to the top, a paved one. We took it. We reached the top just as the driving sleet hit but I was not to be denied of snapping some photos. Oh, there are photos. Lest there were any doubts, Slieve League was mine.

Update on May 23, 2006 by stacie

Later that day…We crossed the lonely bog country of far west Donegal where we saw turf being cut by a lone shoveler. We were headed for Glencolumbkille, a magical hamlet on the very edge of the world. Tom had spent some inebriated nights here a quarter of a century ago (yeah, he’s old) and he wanted to see if it had changed in any way. It hadn’t. The thatch roof homes and views of the Atlantic were stunning. It was a lovely day.

Update on May 25, 2006 by stacie

May 24…’Twas a turn down day, ‘twas. We stayed in the area of Ballycastle and visited Ceide Fields. (pronounced Kay-jah) Surrounded by heather-clad moorlands along a dramatic stretch of north Mayo coastline, it is a Stone Age land enclosure. Remains of farm buildings indicate it was an extensive community. The fields were slowly buried below the creeping bog formation where they have been preserved for 5,000 years. Fascinating. Tom and Co. are headed out to do some fly fishing. I don’t expect them back ‘til dusk which happens to be about 10:30-11:00 p.m. in this part of the world. I am going to head out on foot to shoot some photos and sit by the beach. It’s a rough life but someone has to do it, no?

Update on May 26, 2006 by stacie

May 25…Seems we can’t get started before noon most every day what with sleeping until 10:00 a.m., my morning cup of coffee while sitting on a bench overlooking the north Atlantic and the all important jog to work off the cream I’ve been pouring on everything. So, we set out at noon for Achill, Ireland’s largest island on the far west coast of Mayo. The first stop was Belmullet, a quaint hamlet where we had lunch. The drive from Belmullet to Achill takes one through a broad, tawny plain of bog and rolling hills criss-crossed by bog water creeks and rivers. The island is accessed by bridge, one that can supposedly be raised but I saw little evidence of that. We took the Atlantic Drive through the southern section of the island and the views were stunning.The craggy, broken cliffs, plunging to crystal clear water were covered at the top with spongy, close-cropped green grass. The drive back to Ballycastle, though only about 50 miles, took the better part of two hours on the narrow, twisting, undulating roads. Did I mention really bumpy? I’m trying to craft this journal entry as Tom drives but I’m feeling a bit car sick so we’re going to have to pull over. I’ll be back later.

Update on May 26, 2006 by stacie

Later…We made it back to Ballycastle and were in the cottage for no more than five minutes when we took off for the ruins of Moyne Abbey, constructed in 1460. What a treasure. We had to hike through a farmer’s private land to get to it. I told Tom to pay no attention to the sign that read-BEWARE OF THE BULL! “There’s no bull,” I laughed. “That’s a ploy to keep people out.” As we approached the abbey, some 500 meters from the car, Tom said, “Uh, yeah, is that a bull off to the left?” “Sure, Tom…whatever!” I chided. He charged, (the bull, not Tom) and we ran, jumped a stone fence and narrowly escaped the charging of the bull. “Let’s get outta here!” I cried. Like a blast from a gun we were back at the car and on our way to dinner.

Update on May 26, 2006 by stacie

May 26…It’s now 10:00 a.m. Our plans to travel by ten o’clock have come and gone. It’s foggy, windy and cold. We are headed for Bunratty, a medieval castle with superbly restored furniture, tapestry, stained-glass windows and historically significant artifacts. Local lasses, dressed in period costume, serve much wine and meat to would-be chieftains. The folk park, adjacent to the castle, took root when builders at Shannon Airport couldn’t bear to destroy a quaint cottage in order to build a runway. Instead, they moved the cottage to Bunratty. Since then, reconstructions of turn-of-the-century houses from all over Ireland have been added. Bunratty also claims one decent pub. The first proprietress at Durty Nelly’s (founded 1620) earned her name by serving Bunratty soldiers more than just beer, if you know what I mean. Who knows what stops we’ll make on the road from here to there…should be interesting.

Update on May 26, 2006 by stacie

On the road to Bunratty…Our first stop, the village of Foxford on the Moy River, came less than an hour into our road trip. I needed to relieve myself of the morning cream (with just a splash of coffee) and get a scone or two or three. We had a delightful chat with the store owner about the best route to Galway. He said, in a most Irish of accents, “I’d tell ye a quicker route but I’m sure ye’d get lost. You’ll be takin’ the main road to the top of the road and turn right.” The top of the road? Why is it always to the top of the road? The road never ends so where in God’s name is the top? We stopped in Galway for a quick internet hook-up and some scones and were on our way in an hour’s time. The weather was on again sun with an occasional mistfall…perfect for driving all day. We made it to Bunratty at half-five-just in time for a pint at Durty Nelly’s. Of course, any time’s the right time for a pint at Durty Nelly’s-but you knew that.

Update on May 28, 2006 by stacie

May 28…Well, we made it back to Phoenix after an excruciatingly long flight. We were both assigned middle seats and the flight was chock-full. That’ll make you crazy. Other than narrowly missing our flight out of Newark to Phoenix the day was uneventful. I fell asleep at 4:00 p.m. and woke at 2:00 a.m. so here I am writing my last entry for this journal. Our next adventure takes us to Iceland but that won’t be until August…stay tuned.

Santa Barbara 2006

March 27…Lush, sun-drenched, relaxed and nestled seductively between Los Angeles and San Francisco, Santa Barbara IS the American Riviera. As I sit at the West Beach Inn, just steps from the largest of the world’s oceans, the Pacific, I can’t help but wonder where that sun-drenched weather is. It’s 53 degrees and raining. I can’t see the ocean for the clouds so I might as well find a cozy restaurant to eat and drink my rainy day blues away. Later that evening…Sitting right next door to the hotel is a quaint Italian joint named Emilio’s. I wandered in solo and asked for a table in a dark corner-they obliged. It was the perfect night for a glass of Pinot Noir and a bowl of butternut squash soup so I ordered both-they obliged. By the way, did you know the word soup originates from the Teutonic word suppa, which refers to a Medieval dish consisting of a thick stew poured on slices of bread, called sop, used to soak up the liquid-interesting, yes? Anyway, the soup was very medieval-thick, creamy and full o’ flavor. The organic greens salad with gorgonzola, candied walnuts and apple slices was a delightful contrast to the hearty soup. I left the restaurant wholly satisfied.

Update on March 28, 2006 by stacie

March 28…Awake at 6a.m. and the rain still coming down, I decided I could tolerate the provided Maxwell House coffee no longer so I donned my running apparel and started out for any nearby coffee house. Forty-five minutes later and soaked to the bone, I found a Ralphs Grocery store. I bought some Peet’s Italian Roast, half & half, a couple of granny smith apples and toothpaste.(I forgot it) The rain let up a bit on my jog back to the hotel but I was so chilled by then it didn’t matter. I got back to the room, made a pot of extra strong coffee, poured most of the pint of half & half in my mug, added a dollop of coffee then gulped it down. That was just the beginning…

Update on March 28, 2006 by stacie

Afternoon, March 28…There seemed to be a rain cloud stuck overhead in Santa Barbara-24 hours of non-stop rain. Suddenly, around 4:30 p.m., the clouds parted and the sun was unveiled. I immediately grabbed my camera and started exploring. I ran into the Tuesday Farmer’s Market on State Street and bought a pint of the sweetest strawberries I’ve ever eaten. I decided to get a chunk of cheese, a loaf of fresh, crusty bread, and bottle of vino to eat/drink with the strawberries-my dinner. After walking about the town for several hours I retired to my room and promptly began eating.

Update on March 29, 2006 by stacie

March 29…”So sung they, and the empyrean rung With Hallelujahs”—Milton. The sun is shining! Time for a run on the beach (after coffee, of course). Later that day…I had an uneventful run on the beach unless you consider running into Ron Livingston uneventful. [(I did)] He played Peter Gibbons in the 1999 comedy OFFICE SPACE. Uh yeah, I’m gonna need you to go ahead and run a little faster…In a blur he was, I mean, I was gone but it was him…I’m certain of it. Anyway, after my run, I made it back to the room where I showered and rushed over to the hotel breakfast. What’s up with American hotel breakfasts? Could they be any worse? Could we take the lead from Europe? Uh yeah, I’m gonna need something more than stale bagels and yoghurt with added sugars.

Update on March 30, 2006 by stacie

March 30…After a day of shopping and finding absolutely nothing I needed a good meal and a glass of wine. (After all I am in the Santa Rita Hills area-a favorite growing spot for Pinot Noir-my preferred grape.) An oceanside cafe sounded relaxing so we went to The Beachside Cafe and Bar. I chose an indoor table with views of the ocean’s waves hitting the beach. (it was a chilly evening) I started with a glass of Byron Pinot Noir and seared ahi tuna on a bed of greens-delicious. Next, a cup of clam chowder right before the main course-a bowl of pesto pasta with shrimp-very nice. I’ll need to run a bit further tomorrow morning after that meal.

Update on April 1, 2006 by stacie

March 31…I concluded I was not going to make it to Babcock Winery in Lompoc so I needed to find a couple of bottles of their Pinot Noir in Santa Barbara to bring back to Phoenix. I called East Beach Wine Co. and not only did they have what I was looking for but they were having a tasting of Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais wines-we went straightaway. I also concluded one reason I live in Phoenix is the abundant sunshine. I feel gloomy without it. Today the sky was leaden and thick yet again so we decided to stay close to the hotel for our dining plans which meant going to Emilio’s once again. It’s becoming my second home. I tried the asparagus soup, rack of lamb and cannellini bean puree. It was heavenly. I found out in Santa Barbara there is a BYOB at all restaurants and if you show a receipt from East Beach Wine Co. there is no corkage fee. So, we brought one of the bottles of the Babcock Pinot I’d just purchased. The meal and wine were exceptional.

Update on April 2, 2006 by stacie

April 1…I’d been wanting to do my own version of a “Sideways” spin through the Santa Barbara wine country and today was my last chance. We got a pretty early start as early starts go leaving the West Beach Inn around 8:30am. We took the 101 to Solvang and started the tour passing some of the locations from the movie-AJ Spurs, Hitching Post II, Solvang Restaurant and Blackjack Ranch Vineyard. We ate lunch at Los Olivos Cafe & Wine Merchant (the very same where before entering the restaurant Jack pulls Miles aside and utters one of my favorite lines…”Don’t go to the dark side, Miles.”) and did several wine room tastings. The weather? Perfect-maybe it got up to 67 degrees.

Central Europe 2005

May 17…We departed Phoenix at 9:00 a.m. for our central European adventure. We fly to Denver then Frankfurt, Germany and finally Prague, Czech Republic. In the Denver Airport the wait is interminable. In 9 hours we’ll be in Frankfurt then one hour to Prague. We just witnessed a herd of Lufthansa stewardi huddling and crafting the game plan for our momentous flight. If the enthusiasm of the meeting is any indication this flight should be more fun than…??!#8**

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 17...The turbulance in and out of Denver was unprecedented in these travelers' lives. Tom was not belted and I was in the loo when it hit...the big one. Airborne passengers. We are fortunate to be alive let alone sipping a delicious Pinot Noir. As I write now, we are over Hudsons' Bay making for Baffin Island and on to Greenland. Oddly enough, we were not served dinner until we had left U.S.airspace. I point this out because the eating utensils were the real thing...metal...knives with serrated edges...box cutters for the dessert. Enough for now. I must finish my Pinot.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 18...It’s 12:50 a.m. in Phoenix and by my internal clock but it’s 9:50 a.m. in Frankfurt. I’m tired and Tom is on his 5th meal of the flight. He’s eating eggs and potatoes, a roll with butter and coffee. I can’t watch. He’s self-destructing before my eyes. We are heading over the North Sea to the Continent. I should say something about Lufthansa but there really isn’t much to comment on other than the warm, moist towelettes the stewardi pass out every few hours and the copious amounts of FREE booze that they pour with abandon. Nap time.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 18...2:40 a.m. Phoenix time-11:40 a.m. Frankfurt time. As we touched down on German soil the passengers began to clap and yodel. Now that’s something you don’t hear everyday. In an hour we’ll finally be in Prague. Tom has laid down the law...no sleeping. We are going to adjust to the time change by staying awake all day and going to bed on Prague time. Gotta get some zzzz’s!

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 18...We made it to Prague without incident. A very friendly Czech fellow met us at the airport to shuttle us to the Interhotel Ambassador Praha. He spoke very basic english which made him all the more endearing. As I sit in the hotel lobby sipping champagne and eating asparagus soup with shrimp and the freshest rye bread I've had since childhood, Tom is breaking his very own rule and sleeping. Not me...too much to do and see.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 19...5:30 a.m. I'm getting grief from Tom about being awake so early but we traveled the day away yesterday and I'm ready for a breve latte and the Czech Hearld. The sky is blue, the air is cool and crisp (40˚ F or 4˚C) with a 60˚ high expected. We woke at midnight last night and decided to go out to get some drinking water. The cobblestone streets were filled with people eating, drinking and whatever else these crazy Czechs do. We are in the heart of "old Prague" and I can't wait to start exploring.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 19, 7:30 a.m...A continental breakfast is included with our stay at the lovely Ambassador Hotel. Hearing the words "continental" and "breakfast" in the same sentance I picture a stale jelly roll and dry toast. Well, this was no continental breakfast I've ever had. Starting off with an assortment of cheeses and homemade breads, I moved on to salmon, herring and cabbage, all pickled, of course. Throw in a poached egg, goulash soup, chilled lentils and some things I didn't recognize nor could I pronounce and I was off to a great beginning.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 19...Let’s review. Dead-reckoning our way through tangled, serpentine, narrow, cobblestone streets we made our way to the Astronomical Clock in the heart of Old Town Prague. Convinced we were lost the entire time, unable to read the street signs we suddenly and miraculously found ourselves standing before it as it struck 11 a.m. Next stop-the Charles Bridge which spans the Vltava River. I was in need of what the locals refer to as the WC but Tom found it necessary to translate all the Latin inscriptions on the statues that line the bridge. By the time we got across, it was the lunching hour. I decided a traditional Czech meal was what I needed-goulash and a Bohemian Pilsner. Ahh, that really hit the spot. Lost but determined, we finally made it back to the hotel where, in violation of Tom’s rule, I promptly fell asleep.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 20...Jet lag? What jet lag? I'm sure you're wondering about last night's dinner. After all, this journal is more about my gastronomic experiences than anything else. Let me set-up the scene. Picture a Bohemian Baron's hunting lodge with antlers and boar's heads on the wall, muskets and spears hanging from the ceiling. In one corner two ancient, endearing, proper British couples and in another two elegant, lilting-voiced Scandinavian couples. Tom ate sow stuffed with apples and rosemary whilst I chose beef basted in a cream sauce with dumplings and a fine Czech vino...delicious! Today, after another hearty breakfast we will take a guided tour of the most historic sights in Prague and stop at the only Central European Jewish Town-Quarter that survived the holocaust...until then...

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 20...10 p.m. Prague time. We took a two hour tour of the major sights in Prague on a 10 person bus with the “guide” from hell. Having had one too many lattes I needed to use the WC just as the tour was to begin. I’ll recap the scene: STACIE (to guide)- “Will we be stopping on this tour?” GUIDE- “Oh yes, in about an hour.” One and a half hours later...STACIE (barely able to think...in so much pain)- “Can we stop for a toilette break?” GUIDE- “Sorry, no time.” STACIE- “Please then, let me out...I can’t continue.” So, in the middle of somewhere we jumped out of the bus and ran to the nearest WC. Having relieved myself and feeling like a new person I thought eating something would be a good idea. We found a delightful restaurant for lunch then did our own tour of the Jewish Quarter, had an espresso at the Franz Kafka Cafe and made our way back to the hotel for a 5 minute rest. Next stop...Church of St. Martin in the Wall for a string quartet performance of Mozart, Vivaldi, Bach, Handel and Schubert. Are you kidding me? It was wonderful. It brought tears to my eyes.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 21...One day before the race. Tom needs to rest today but I’ve got miles to go before I sleep. I ventured out on my own- camera around neck, food on mind. After snapping a few photos I happened upon a quaint boulangerie with the heady aroma of caramel cinnamon rolls wafting about. I don’t take after my mother when it comes to sweets so I opted for a chunk of Tellagio and Manchego cheeses, a few slices of prosciutto and a fresh, warm baguette. Oh, did I mention the all important glass of Bordeaux? Sitting outside in the warm sunshine, eating, drinking and watching those [wild and crazy] Czechs...who could ask for more? After lunch I was on a photographic mission as Tom was resting so I could wander at will. I returned to the hotel a bit weary. I think Tom’s rule of no napping has expired. Either way, a nap before dinner was a must.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 22...Race Day. It has been fairly cool thus far but today is a different story. It is humid and pretty warm for a marathon. As I await Tom's finish I can report that my race was quite good. It was an 8K fun run which started 1/2 hour after the marathon. It was short and sweet and although it was not officially timed as far as I could tell, I do know I was second female overall and ran a 30:50 by my watch. Having suffered a slight injury during training, I did not run the last three weeks leading up to the race. I cycled instead hoping it would keep me in running condition. I am very pleased with my run and how I felt during the race. I don't get to say that very often because I am usually displeased with my performances. I will, of course, be reporting on Tom's heroics when I get the details...Ciao for now.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 22...It's over. Tom finished a most grueling race...one he claims was the most difficult race he has ever run. I was 200 meters from the finish, video camera in hand to capture all the goriness that a marathon finish provides. I was getting concerned at 4 hours 20 minutes that I had somehow either missed Tom flying by me or he had dropped out. I decided to stay put until 4:35 at which time I thought, surely, he would either run by or not. At 4:34 I saw him in the distance...moving ever so slowly toward the finish line. He managed a wave as I yelled to him and like a fast moving snail he was gone. The next sighting of Tom was in the shower in the hotel room. Actually, it was through the closed shower door, don't get any ideas. We are well and glad the race portion of our trip is behind us. From now on it's pure turistas.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 23...Last night was exceptional. First, after lounging about most of the afternoon, we decided to saunter down to Smetana Hall and attend The Praha Sinfonietta's rendition of Mozart's Requiem in D minor. Smetana Hall is a masterpiece of neo-gothic architecture with art nouveau elements. It is stunning. The performance was nothing short of spectacular. Despite Tom's constant fidgeting, (marathon enervation) I was completely captivated. Dinner was next on the agenda. Emerging from the symphony hall we were struck by the pink orange pastel light of late evening and the cool soft weather. Czech food is decent but it pales in comparison to Italian alimento. On intuition, I chose Ristorante Don Giovanni as THE place to be and be seen. We dined on Pappardelle with boar's meat and honey mushrooms, Insalata Caprese and Bruschette con Pomodoro. There are adjectives to properly describe the food: ambrosial; divine; exquisite; piquant; yummy, but I won't bore you with the details.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May23...Early evening...We ventured out about noon looking for a place to, yes, eat lunch. We happened upon a charmingly odd establishmnet serving Czech cuisine. We took our places in the only two open seats and were less than promptly waited on. (an apparent Czech custom so we've learned) As we waited for our food the ever garrulous Tom struck up a conversation with whom I will refer to as "The Maids of Manchester." They were drinking their lunch and chatty. After Tom wore them out he started on another couple from Denmark at which time Tom met his match...boy, could that guy talk. Two hours had passed before I said..Uh, yeah...I'm gonna need to do some sightseeing today. Off we went to the Klementinum. The Klementinum was Tom's obsession because we learned it was founded in the 16th century by the Jesuits. Little did we know that behind its formidable but non-descript walls would lie a cloistered courtyard of immense proportions. The main attractions were the Astronomical Tower and the Baroque Library. Our tour guide was a doppelganger of Dr. Loveless from The Wild Wild West, Czech style. It was like a time capsule back to 17th century astronomical science. You could smell the aromas of the time. Fascinating.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 24...Our last day in Prague...We are going to tour the famous Prague Castle and several other sights we have not yet visited during our stay. Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. we board a train for a 7 hour journey to Budapest, Hungary. The weather has been 'brilliant' as the Irish say-today is no exception. More to follow...

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 25...Yesterday was our last day in Prague and we went out in style. We took a 4 hour walking tour and got the inside scoop from an earnest, chock-full of information, young Czech lad. He had, at his fingertips, dates and events from the 8th century to the present. We finally got up-close to Prague Castle and watched the changing of the guard. Remarkable for us were the guards’ shiny happy festive colored uniforms, unlike their drab green of communistic days, their stoney-faced, stilted demeanor and their weapons, which were inoperable toy (if you will) guns. It was most informative and enjoyable. We intended to go to a 15th century style restaurant for dinner but found out it was quite a distance from the hotel so I chose a French restaurant close to home. Let me just say Tom is not partial to food. He could just as easily eat at McDonalds as dine at a *****5 star***** restaurant but even he was impressed. It was quite possibly the best food either of us has ever eaten. The first course was an assortment of French cheeses followed by unique Ceasar salad and a glass of Moravian Cabernet Sauvignon (Tom demurred). I had Argentinian filet mignon with sauted green beans served atop creamed potatoes while Tom consumed roasted leg of duck with a “fruits of the forest” sauce and two exquisitely seasoned dumplings. For dessert we ordered a “tarte-tatin” which consisted of a lightly crusted pastry filled with cinnamon, apples and walnut-vanilla ice cream atop a khalua cream sauce. Need I say more?

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 25...On the train to Hungary...We awoke with a start before the 5 a.m. wake-up call, certain we’d overslept because daylight was streaming through the window. We were assured by the ever-so-helpful hotel staff (hrumph) it would be “no problem” finding our train at the station so we left the hotel at 6:30 for our 7:00 departure. I suppose the best word to describe the Prague train station would be INCOMPREHENSIBLE! It was 6:50 and our train departed at 7:00, or so we thought. Tom, in near panic mode, went to the information booth for assistance. As he was brow-beating the information staff for providing useless information we suddenly and miraculously heard a familiar sound - Chicagoese. We turned and saw our “train station saviors,” two gentlemen from the states familiar with the station and going to Budapest. What luck. We found our train (which actually had a 7:30 departure), our seats and a cup of coffee in a matter of minutes and left the station promptly at 7:30 a.m.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 26...Our first full day in Budapest and so far it has been wonderful. Budapest is a magnificent city. It is divided into two parts, the hilly side of Buda on the western bank and the flat plain of Pest on the eastern bank of the River Danube. We are staying on the Pest side. We got to our hotel about 3:30 p.m. yesterday and we immediately searched out the only remaining self-service laundry shop in Budapest. While waiting for our clothes we sat at a charming sidewalk cafe sipping espresso and listening to a Hungarian harpist perform. The clothes ended up taking longer than we thought so I moved on from espresso to a fine Hungarian wine. After dishing out 2400 Forint (Hungarian currency) which is equivalent to 12 USD we had fresh laundered clothing and a new city to explore. We dined at a Hungarian style restaurant and made it back to the hotel by 11:00 p.m. after a very long day.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 27...Budapest is a very big city. It's more massive and less quaint than Prague but the people are particularly friendly. It feels a bit like New York City...so much to see and do one doesn't know where to begin. So we began at the Central Market...fresh fruits and vegetables, meats of all kinds including lungs and tounges. (eek!) The "people watching" could not have been better. We made our way across the Danube to the Buda Castle (with a few wrong turns, all Tom's fault, of course) or what the tourist industry refers to as the Castle District. It was quite warm and we walked the entire way so we were exhausted by the time the real fun was to begin. I thought eating something would cure my lethargy. It did. A very dense and spicy roll with a chunck of cheese was all I needed to get me back down the hill, across the river to the Pest side and to a fancy coffee house for a refreshment break. (Sadly, I'm having some technical difficulties with my camera so I won't have many pictures to post until I get it figured out.) It was another long day what with the heat and five hours of walking so we took a break before heading out to dinner. I'd comment on the food we ate but I can neither pronounce the names nor recall the exotic ingredients but I do know it was outstanding. I'd have to say I've not had one bad meal this entire trip. Tommorow is our last day in Budapest. We are headed for Vienna, Austria, on Sunday...up the Danube on a hydrofoil.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 28…We rolled out of bed about 9 a.m. and rushed down to breakfast because it is only served until 10 a.m. We decided to pass on the guided tours of Budapest and with a personal copy of City Guide in hand started our own tour. We took the tram to Andrassy Avenue, a World Heritage site. It makes up a unified architectural form dating from the late 19th century. The near 2.5-km-long Avenue was inspired by the boulevards of France and it originally had a separate lane for gentlemen out riding. We ended up at City Park Lake where a festival was in full swing. We sat by the lake and observed the whacky Hungarian revelers. I’d had just enough walking and it was close to our afternoon coffee house break so we opted to take the sub-surface railway…Continental Europe’s first, built 125 years ago. It was beautifully restored to its original form and took an hour out of our walking time so I was doubly impressed. We had our cappucino/beer break and rested in the hotel room before setting out for dinner.

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 28...The Last Supper...I was set on a recommended Italian joint but as we meandered through the heavily restauranted streets of Budapest we both commented on a quaint Greek restaurant with live music and decided this was the place for our final dinner in Budapest. We ordered a dinner for two which consisted of a heaping plate of a variety of meats...filet mignon, chicken, lamb, pork, spare ribs, pigs knuckles? and grilled vegetables. A greek salad accompanied the enormous flesh plate. I asked the waiter for a glass of red wine. He said, “Hungarian or Greek?” I said, “What do you recommend?” He replied with disdain, “This is a Greek restaurant, no?” I shot back, “Uh yeah, I’m gonna need a Greek wine then.” We devoured the entire plate (and all the meat on top of it too!) and set out for a dessert at what Tom has come to call “Our Budapest.” There was a joint called Old Amsterdam’s down an alley from our hotel. Live jazz, seating in the street, and good food defined this place. Tom had been eyeing the homemade cottage cheese/cherry tart with vanilla ice cream for days but he finally indulged and in Tom’s words, “MMMMM!”

Update on June 2, 2005 by stacie

May 29…We made it to Vienna on what turned out to be a very warm boat trip. There has been a three day heat wave in central Europe with temperatures 15˚-20˚ higher than usual. Tomorrow the temperatures are expected to drop to normal (70˚F) but, of course, we are homebound. Vienna is a lovely city and we are staying in our favorite hotel, the Konig Von Ungarn, a gem in the city center with old world charm. Our room is a small apartment but it was the only room available so we took it. It has two baths, two bedrooms, two televisions and just about anything else you could possibly need. We wandered about the city and reminisced about the places we’d seen three years ago. The “Mozart House”, where Mozart composed the Magic Flute, is directly behind the hotel and we strolled by it, the Opera House and St. Stephen’s Cathedral, a gothic masterpiece in the very center of the city. We ate in the hotel restaurant which is a five star restaurant and we were treated like royalty. The food was so good that I am at a loss for words. We started with a sample of Austrian specialties and a glass of champagne. The second course was a cream of asparagus soup of which I’ve never tasted the likes…melted butter comes to mind. I had the grilled meat plate and a glass of Austrian red wine and Tom had the beef cutlet with something. I was too focused on my food to actually see exactly what he ordered. The bread was warm, fresh and delightful. For dessert Tom had apple strudel with whipped cinnamon and a scoop of vanilla ice cream while I chose a glass of twenty year old port. Both were to die for. When we retired to our apartment there were pastries with walnuts and caramel waiting to be devoured-and they were. It was a perfect ending to what has been a perfect trip. I am sad to be returning to the States. I could get used to living in Europe. There is something magical about being in places that are haunted with such history, art, culture and architecture. It renews one’s spirit. I’d like to say I won’t lose the renewed spirit and energy it gives me but it’s difficult to maintain once back in the grind. Until the next trip…