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Choosing Sides in Jerusalem

Throughout my travel life I have always felt that it was important to maintain, as best as possible, an observational attitude towards the places I have visited. I don’t feel it is my place to interject my personal feelings towards the customs, culture or political and religious climate of the places I have chosen to visit. After all, I think one of the wonders of travel is seeing things that are different from your own world. It is what makes travel such a rewarding thing for me. Most travelers would agree that the world is becoming too generic. Inserting your own beliefs or customs can only alter the local culture and contribute to global sameness.

I say observational and not objective because it is not always possible to be objective. I know that some things are wrong. I have seen poverty, racism, class division and a host of other things that were uncomfortable to observe and at times outright offensive personally. I think that most people have an ingrained desire to help others that they perceive as less fortunate or treated unfairly. I understand the desire to help children or animals or anyone that is a natural underdog. However it is my belief that at some point you are practicing activism, not tourism. I often have to remind myself that I am an outsider and because I do not have to live with results of the actions that are taken in a place I am visiting, perhaps I should not interject my opinions.

Damascus Gate


At the same time I have always had trouble with tourism that alters the reality of a place so that we don’t have to see what is really happening. It seems to take away the general purpose of travelling. I’m not sure that living in a gated community or staying in some fenced off all-inclusive resort that does its best to hide the reality of an area serves a visitor well. Frolicking in some white sand Margaritaville that was created solely based on some Disneyesque version of reality is not for me either. It is true there is an Eiffel tower in Las Vegas. It is attractive and fun to see, but you can’t be confused that it is the true item. I do understand that suspending reality for a few days could be seen as just taking a break from your normal routine. I enjoy a few nights disguised as a high roller in Vegas or a couple of nights of room service in an enchanted palace-like hotel pretending to be a Raj era sultan as much as anyone.

I find that by attempting to remain observational you often begin to see an issue from both sides. It has served me well and has created learning experiences from some unpleasant situations. It helped us get through and not feel overwhelmingly frightened in our last few days in Istanbul. We were involved in a tear gas incident near Taksim Square during a protest. A major suicide bomb attack that killed several German tourists happened literally 20 feet from a bench we had lunch on just a week before. I understood a good number of the reasons these things occurred which made them easier to comprehend. I still found them unpleasant and regrettable but because I understood the situation, these experiences gave me a unique opportunity to see the world from a different perspective. Because I stayed observational, I was better able to control the fear and panic that might have overwhelmed me otherwise.

Mount of Olives


We arrived in our new city of Jerusalem after an adventurous, but short journey from Istanbul. Security was strong in Istanbul but even more so at the Tel Aviv airport. Guns are displayed everywhere in the airport. The wall that separates the Palestinian Territories from Israel is clearly visible along the road from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Much of the conversation between the tourists in the shared taxi (called a Sherut) was about the recent increase in terrorist attacks throughout Israel. I was well aware of ongoing troubles in Israel but, to be honest, I was not familiar with the recent stabbings of Israelis that have taken place almost daily in the last few months.

We found our new apartment just after dark after quite a search. The neighborhood is old and not well marked and locating our address in the fading light was not easy. We had not put too much thought into where we were going to stay in Jerusalem. We basically selected an apartment based on price and location within walking distance to the Old City. We live in the Musrara neighborhood about one block from the original division line between Palestine and Israel. The neighborhood was originally founded in the late 1800’s by wealthy Arabs who wanted to live outside the confines of the Old City’s walls. When Israel was founded in 1948 battle lines were drawn between East and West Jerusalem in this neighborhood and most of the original occupants moved out. Since the 1967 Arab-Israeli war both East and West Jerusalem are one area under Israeli control. Many of the once grand houses have been transformed into apartments and the neighborhood has a bit of an art colony feel.

Jerusalem Alleys


Walking through the neighborhood the next morning, bullet holes were clearly visible in some of the cement block houses near ours. Scars from the past no doubt. The ultra-modern tram line marks a clear line between predominantly Arab East Jerusalem and predominately Israeli West Jerusalem. West Jerusalem is much nicer developed with modern stores and apartment buildings. Sidewalks are wide and cafes are busy with well-dressed people enjoying their day. East Jerusalem is much poorer in appearance. Stores are smaller and cafes are less trendy. The streets are dirtier and the streets and sidewalks are not well kept. There seems to be a clear economic division between the communities.

We spent our days wandering the Old City. The relatively small walled area is holy ground to 3 major religious groups. We enjoyed visiting the highlights from each over our days. Visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, considered by many Christians to be where Jesus ascended to heaven was amazing. Seeing the Temple Mount where the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa Mosque are located gave us a unique look into the lives of Islamic residents of the area. It was awe inspiring seeing the Jewish people worshipping at the Western Wall, which is as close to the location of the Solomon’s First Temple as they can be, and considered their most holy spot on earth. All of these areas are within a 5 minute walk of each other.

Old City Walls


The Old City is divided between four quarters, Jewish, Armenian, Christian and Muslim. There are no signs to distinguish the different areas but they are easily identifiable. The Jewish area is nicely constructed with recently renovated buildings surrounding nicely excavated sites of Roman Era ruins. The Armenian area is smaller and mostly walled from tourists. The Christian area is filled with businesses and religious organizations. The Muslim area seems rougher and not as nicely restored with tiny alleys and tiny houses stacked in every formation on top of each other. The ancient markets are located here as well as most of the tourist souvenir shops.

The city is filled with soldiers at many corners. They are heavily armed and number in groups of 2 to 10. We saw our first uncomfortable incident when the soldiers grabbed a young looking Palestinian teenager and proceeded in roughly searching him. It was difficult to watch as it did not seem provoked and went on for some time. An older Palestinian man commented to us while shaking his head that “they treat us like animals”. The boy was sent on his way.

Muslim Quarter


A couple of days later we were sitting outside the Damascus Gate enjoying the late evening sunshine with families and shoppers in the area. We went up the steps when suddenly many soldiers went running past us toward the gate. Sirens went off and it was apparent something had happened. We continued on our short walk home as more sirens blared as police rushed to the area. We looked at the news and saw that an Israeli teen had been stabbed by two Palestinians right in front of where we had been sitting just moments before. It was difficult to imagine such a peaceful scene getting so bad in only seconds after we had left. Luckily the young man was only slightly injured.

We were having our lunch next to the Western Wall on a sunny Friday afternoon. A local Jewish man was explaining to his visiting family that the reason so many soldiers were present was that the Muslim prayers were taking place on the Temple Mount and when they were through the worshippers needed to be “controlled” so they wouldn’t start a riot. It was disturbing because of the contempt that he said it with, especially since children were in his group.

Old City


We have had many discussions in the evenings about the situations that we witnessed in the short time we have been here. It seemed like each day we witnessed something that left us feeling uneasy. The tension in the city seems palpable. People appear and act uncomfortably. Smiles and laughter are not common. We asked an un-busy cab driver we were talking to on the Mount of Olives when tourist season picks up. He told us sadly that it never gets busy anymore. The tourists don’t come now.

Yesterday was our worst day yet. At Jaffa Gate we decided to go on the Rampart Walk along the Old City walls. The route leads from Jaffa gate around to Herod Gate on the northern side of the walls. It was a pretty day and we were enjoying the excellent view from the top of the wall. As we neared New Gate we began to hear lots of sirens. We could hear gun shots followed by explosions from the direction we were going. Within second more sirens could be heard coming from nearly every direction. We continued on toward Damascus Gate. The roads outside the walls were being blocked and police and soldiers were everywhere. As we continued, it was apparent that that everyone’s attention was focused outside the gate. Guns were drawn everywhere and people were blocked from the area.

Old City Graves


As we continued to approach we could see from our birds eye view the tragic scene below. 3 Palestinian youths were lying on the ground in pools of blood. A young female soldier was being rushed to an ambulance. Hundreds of police were everywhere and photographers were hurrying past us on the walls to get the best views. Hundreds of bystanders were gathering in the street below and curious residents were peaking from nearby apartment windows. To be honest, we didn’t know what to do. We stood and watched the scene from above. I can’t really say we were scared. It just seemed unbelievably sad. The three dead boys looked so young. They didn’t look evil. Later we learned that the soldier girl had also been killed. She didn’t seem old enough to be in uniform, much less to have lost her life.

I have read the story of what happened. I suppose the conclusions are different based on who is telling the story. I understand the issue from both sides. I feel compelled to pick a side. I am having a hard time being observant. What I saw was tragic and someone must be to blame. Someone must be right and someone must be wrong. What I do know is correct is that 4 very young people are not going to live full lives and that is very sad.

Dormition Abbey


Much of the current troubles in the world seem to radiate out from this area of the world. I am trying my best to be a good traveler and stick to my goal of being observant. It is hard to be objective. I see wrong on both sides. It is difficult for me to see any good in any of this.

I do know that Jerusalem has a unique opportunity to set an example of how the rest of the world could live. If they could figure out how to get along within the tiny confines of the walled Old City then surely the rest of the world could use them as an example and find a way themselves. I know that the situation is difficult and we all feel as though we must pick a side. I hope for the young people here that the people in charge at least make an effort.

As I write this, many sirens are passing outside our house and are headed toward the old city again. It doesn’t seem as though they have figured it out yet.

Jerusalem Old City

Spirits from the Past

There is an apartment in Seville. It is at the end of the callejon, past the tiny bodega where they have futbol and cups of good wine. The tiny alley is narrow and the smell of food drifts from the kitchens of the houses that line it. The days of the fish stew are the best with intense aromas that yield a mixture of sweet and sour. At the end of the alley you find a heavy framed metal gate with artistic flourishes that leads to the courtyard. The courtyard has a stone fountain and marble floor that feels cool to the touch even on the hot days, as it most always is.

Santa Cruz


Three flights of stairs are climbed to reach the apartment. The stairway is accented with the famous blue azulejos tiles. The building is unusually quiet most times. In the right time of day you hear the man practicing his flamenco guitar, strumming endless chord progressions, accompanied only by the gentle tapping of his foot. The pretty girl across the courtyard leaves early in the morning and comes home late at night. She dresses well and must have a good job. She sometimes wears a flower in her hair, usually a color to match her dress.

On the Avenida


Above the apartment is a terrace where the laundry is hung to dry. It is painted white to reflect the sun’s rays and is intensely hot. The residents hang the clothes early to avoid the sun themselves. As the breeze picks up during the day, the clothes blow in the wind like the sails of the wooden ships that left the port here many years before. This is the hottest city in Europe and the cloudless blue skies dry the clothes faster than any machine could. They dry stiff and feel starched and will need to be lightly ironed before they can be used.

Plaza Espana


The sun rises late, after eight, so it is easy to start the day early. In the days before you adjust to the time change it is a pleasure to walk the streets while it is still dark. The lights are on and it feels romantic and slightly mystical as you make your way through the narrow cobblestone streets. With little effort you can see visions of Carmen leaving the tobacco factory to meet her bullfighter or Don Juan returning from late night liaisons with an unnamed lover. You are keenly aware of the history the ornate walls have witnessed. Columbus and Magellan walked here while planning distant voyages to exotic lands. The Catholic kings ruled here and before them the Moors and before them the Romans. Each group left their marks and with only the slightest imagination they are clearly visible in the early light of day.

Seville Sunrise


Breakfast is eaten early and quickly. If your breakfast is in a café you will probably have juice and toast and a thickly rich coffee. On Sundays you might satisfy your cravings for sweetness with the churros and decadent hot chocolate from the small shop with the large line. Everyone sits outside at the casually arranged tables. The conversation is muted as many read newspapers or chat quietly. Everyone seems to smoke, perhaps daring fate itself, as many spend their lives doing here on the southern tip of Spain.

Plaza Espana


If you choose to shop for yourself and time is not critical it is better to find each item of the meal separately. Visit the carniceria for meat, pescaderia for fish, panaderia for bread and maybe a small vegetable market for whatever is in season. After three visits they will remember you. People eat what is in season and what is fresh. Most visit markets daily. The best of the old style mercados have been preserved in the neighborhoods of Triana, Macarena or Arenal. They have been refurbished but have kept the original style of small owner operated stalls filled with delectable goodness. Beautiful tiles tell the vendors name and what his specialty is. Olives, oils, spices and cheeses fill jewel-like glass cases. Delicious Iberico hams and cured sausages hang as advertisements to entice the hungry. Vegetables are arranged in artistic displays of color and flavor.

Triana Market


Life centers on the many plazas. One size plaza does not fit all needs. Some are large and surrounded by designer shops showcasing the latest styles. Some are filled with tourists who look hot and uncomfortable and hungry. Some are more residential and filled with children with soccer balls and bicycles. The best plazas have popular bars and restaurants filled with customers throughout the day. It is said that the tapa was invented in Seville. El Rinconcillo bar is one of more than 1000 places serving tapas in the city and credited with having invented the tapa. It has been turning out food and drinks since 1670 and may be the oldest restaurant in Spain.

Plaza del Toro


Our small Seville apartment sits just outside of Plaza Alfalfa. Plaza Alfalfa is the perfect combination of all the plazas. This is where the Romans settled before there was a Spain. Surrounded by local merchants and tiny cafes it has the perfect mix of humanity to make for the best people watching. Old ladies, babies in strollers, teenagers with their first loves, diners passionately discussing subjects over large cups of sangria or small glasses of beer. The plaza is filled from early morning until late at night. It has tall trees to provide abundant shade and is blocked to traffic. Dancers often practice and a constant game of soccer goes on throughout the day, the players changing as they are called to do other things. Children on bicycles and skates play in the evening after school and before dinner. They easily weave between passing tourists following maps and looking for hard to find street names. Later in the evening diners fill the tables to enjoy drinks and tapas from one of several restaurants that all have outside tables. Everyone seems to know each other and no television could compete with the entertainment found here.

Puente Isabella II


Days are spent here touring the city. It is a city built for walking. The buildings are tall and built close together to provide shade during the heat of the day. The Moors brought orange trees to the city and they line streets everywhere. They provide a wonderful smell in spring and cooling shade all year long as they keep their leaves in all seasons. Perhaps cursed by the vanquished Moors, the oranges are sour and not good to eat. Mixed with enough sugar they can be used for marmalade that the English like.

Seville has its share of world class sites. The Cathedral is the third biggest in the world and the Alcazar that housed first Moorish kings and then Spanish royalty is filled with intricate passageways and formal gardens. La Giralda stands above everything and can be seen from everywhere in town.

Sevilla Nights


I believe the essence of the city is found while walking along the Guadalquivir River in the evening as the sun is setting. Couples hold hands as they walk past the bullring. The breezes are cooling and the air is refreshing. The colorful buildings of Triana reflect in the water. The lights on the Isabel Bridge come on and a magical ambience overtakes the city. Perhaps the spirits of the artists, adventurers, kings and queens of different cultures take over the city again and lead the people on journeys of their own through the streets. Spirits of bullfighters and flamenco dancers abound and help the inhabitants, tourist or local, find a true passion that life was meant to have.

A Place Where Dreams Came True

There is a place where dreams are captured in real life. They drift inland on cool breezes across choppy turquoise seas tossing beneath pink clouded skies. They are captured by the rocky green hills that rise straight from the sea. The hills, worn by time and weather, stand as silent witnesses to a culture of hard work and dedication and a desire to create a visual masterpiece, a perfect mixture of nature’s harshness and man’s desire for not only sustenance, but beauty.



The hills are terraced as they tumble to the sea from high above. The mortarless walls of the terraces, built over centuries by masters of stone craftsmanship, are perfectly shaped to capture the soft morning light. The fertile earth yields everything necessary to not only sustain life, but to nurture it. The terraces are covered with ancient olive trees and carefully tended vineyards. Lemons and other citrus grow in small groups of fragrant color. The sweet smell of the bright yellow lemon trees fills the senses with hope. Basil and rosemary grow in small herb gardens, seemingly wild, their fragrance perfectly complimenting the freshness of the lemon.

A few small boats are tied to brightly colored buoys in the tiny harbor. The sea is rough today and most of the brightly painted boats have been removed from the water. The salt air is crisp, summer still a distant dream. Seagulls hover and dive aggressively above, testing the breezes and currents. They seem to fly for fun and not for food. Speeding with the wind, they bank sharply before hovering and lightly touching down in the chilly water. They are healthy and well-groomed from proper diets. No scavengers here. A fisherman mends a net nearby, his practiced hands neatly weaving the repair of a recent tear.



A cobbled thoroughfare winds through the town from the tiny harbor that hides behind the stone seawall. It follows the path of the stream that provides fresh water for agriculture and people. The rush of water from recent rainstorms is clearly audible through grates along the path. At different points along the way, tiny waterfalls are visible along the exposed black rock. Carefully placed stonework channels water into glistening pools that feed the houses and gardens along the path.

The architecture compliments the land. Red tiled roofs cover hand-hewn houses with iron balconies and brightly painted shutters. The powerful salt air peels the pastel colored stucco walls, sometimes to the brick below, in perfect patterns from the multistoried buildings. The mottled result blends perfectly with the rough landscape. The houses cling precariously to the gorge that was carved over eons by tiny streams that flow from distant snowcapped mountains, unseen behind the terraced hills.



Narrow passageways lead through shadowy gaps between the tightly packed buildings. Worn brick arches form magic gateways through which the townspeople make their way upwards. Unrailed staircases twist their way up the steep hillside. Tiny plazas, terraces and secret viewpoints await those who make the climb. Every open space is used for a purpose. Where houses can’t fit, gardens are built. Where fruits and vegetables won’t grow, flowers are planted. A few ancient trees grow behind natural stone walls that contain rare patches of greenspace.

On the thoroughfare, a tiny vegetable market displays its produce on tables placed along the street. Striped canopies extend above the brightly colored fruits and vegetables, many grown locally. The land provides the necessities of life, but not without incredible effort. Many vendors sell locally grown wine or olive oil. Fresh herbs from tiny gardens nearby fragrantly scent the air. An assortment of delectably aged local cheeses looks appetizing in a refrigerated open display inside.



A small fish market across the way exhibits a wonderful assortment of the silvery catch of the day. Octopus, shrimp and a variety of shellfish fill out the display. They smell of salt water and sea air. Most were in the ocean just a few hours before.

A nearby bakery smells of sweet flour. The smell of heated sugar permeates the air. Colorful sweets are displayed in the small glass case near the window. An ancient espresso machine shines impressively behind the counter. The smell of rich coffee mixes with the aroma of sweetened fruit and demands a brief stop. It is one of few shops open for visitors in these last days of winter.



The ingredients seem so perfectly paired that, when combined together simply, they create a cuisine so delicious that it could only have been created by nature itself. Tomatoes, garlic, basil, olive oil, fresh seafood, lemons and local cheeses. Focaccia, farinata and pesto were created here. Combined with wonderful local wines, a simple, deliciously healthy diet sustained the activity necessary to create this region of work and wonder.

Higher up the hill, a tiny church stands open for visitors. A bell in the tower rings out for all to hear. Black and white stones are equally spaced creating a striped façade which is unique to this area. Inside the hand painted statues are not gaudy or overly elaborate. They display a simple beauty that compares easily with the more ornate places of worship built by rich patrons in places far away. The design here suggests closeness to a faith formed by the recognition of how much man and nature depend on each other to survive.



Three old women sit on a bench near the tiny square next to the church. They wear aprons and happily chat to everyone who passes. People greet each other heartily and with good cheer. No new baby can pass without everyone gathering around to make cooing sounds and wiggle a toe or tiny hand. A one eyed cat sits laconically on the tiny stoop. He seems to know that the sun finds its way here at this time every day. His face tilted upward to the beam of light, he seems to be content with his fate.

The cemetery at the top of the hill provides the perfect final resting place. Well-tended flowers mark the shiny polished white marble crypts. The view across the never-ending terraces, along the road through the town, above the colorful houses, further to the harbor and finally to the amazingly blue sea is amazing. The perfect place to spend eternity. A few boats are visible on the horizon. As if on cue, the sun peeks from behind the parting clouds. The rays of light that shine seem perfectly focused to highlight the achievements of people who have worked hard to create a place of amazing beauty and abundance. The natural curves of the land are perfectly complimented by the man-made additions of years of unending dedication.



Smiling photos of the townspeople’s faces mark the graves. They show a handsome, humble people who lived a life of work and care. They are faces that look out over all they have created with all the satisfaction, achievement and contentment of a life well lived in a beautiful land where their dreams really did become reality.


The Heat of Penang

The heat is oppressive, unrelenting, surreal. It takes your strength, appetite and will. You can’t fight it, there’s no reason, you can’t win. It’s a thick heat, the humidity is so high.The moisture peels the paint from the walls and then peels the stucco until the red brick shows. You tie a ribbon on your fan so you’re sure it’s still moving. You try to sleep, but the heat gives you strange dreams. Dreams of jungles and strange voices you can’t understand. Your clothes stick and you dread walking. You learn to survive in the morning before the sun comes or in the evening as it subsides. You learn to find relief in anything cool, a breeze, an umbrella, a cool drink. Anything to survive for a few more minutes. You curse the people who block the covered sidewalk and make you walk from the shade into the sun, even for a brief moment of time. You avoid streets that are exposed to the sun and don’t have breezes. It seems it will never end. This is Penang.


The sun is setting as you leave your hostel on Muntri Street. The sun is finally easing, casting an orange and purple glow on the ancient houses that line the alley. The clouds are coming and you hope for rain. Thunder is heard in the distance mixed with the eerie sounds of the Muslim call to prayer. Several sticks of incense burn nearby. The neon signs of restaurants and hotels are lit already, some flickering in the thick air. Swallows fly in and out of the top floor of a nearby abandoned building where they have made their home. You think it is abandoned until you see the blue light of the lonely television casting shadows on the old watching in their chairs. A dog watches you from behind the gated door, too lazy and hot to bark or even stand.


A small breeze catches you as you round the corner onto Love Lane. Love Lane, where the rich kept their mistresses in days gone by. Love Lane that has warnings of potential evil deeds late at night. The sky is now completely dark, and you are glad for it. You walk closer to the middle of the street, leery of the shadowy covered sidewalks, trying to keep the breeze in your face, a couple of street lamps in the distance casting the dim glow as your pace picks up trying to avoid the broken covers of the half open sewers.


You hear Chulia Street before you get to it. Busy with cars and scooters and trishaws and smelling of food simmering or grilling on the street. Music from backpacker bars and flop houses, now frequented by the young and adventurous or the old and staid. Before the backpackers, there were sailors. Sailors from the navies of the world. Sailors from merchant fleets of the world plying the Malacca Straits on the lucrative shortcut trade routes from China to India. Shortcuts like Chulia Street itself, which takes you to the docks and jetties farther down. The street is lined with things the sailors needed, bars, laundries, cheap rooms, food. The same thing the backpackers need. Sailors made the way for the backpackers. Chulia is not the street of the wealthy Straits Chinese, the Baba-Nonyas, or the British merchants. It never was.It’s a utilitarian street that provided services for the working classes and those passing through.


You pass the Hong Kong Bar, which served the sailors before they quit coming, before the fire that ruined the memories. The backpacker bars nearby do more business now. They have reggae names and posters of Bob Marley and Che. The backpackers don’t have sea stories to tell and share. They tell stories of where they are going, not where they have been. They huddle together, their smart phones and computers dimly lighting their tired faces. The light makes them look thinner and paler than they are. The bars sell expensive beer, a cruel trick of a government that charges high taxes on the one thing that might make the heat tolerable.


You’re appetite returns with the cooler air. You start to look for something to eat as you make your way down the last block of Chulia before you get to the junction of Penang Road. You pass the hookers hiding in the shadows and the used bookstores selling last year’s bestsellers. Travel agencies selling cheap tickets for onward travel to places you haven’t even heard of before. You haven’t eaten since the heat started and that was just the toast and jelly (with free coffee!) at the hostel earlier in the day.

You reach the Penang Road junction. It’s where the tourists from the cruise ships and the Eastern and Oriental turn around. The road is lit differently on the other side, the hotels taller and newer. Tall enough to steal the breeze from Chinatown where it is most needed. You see the Line Clear sign. It’s a restaurant in an alley open since the 1930’s, making one product. When you do it right, you don’t need two. NasiKandar, basically a dish of rice covered with a mixture of curries and your choice of meat spread on top. It’s been open 24 hours a day, every day in the same alley. It’s raw and gritty. The pace increases when you enter. Everybody eats here. People in suits and people with no shoes.Celebrities that everyone knows and people who don’t want their name known. The famous get their picture on the wall, everyone else gets good food.



They ask you if you want it spicy. You say yes. You know the spice makes you to feel cooler. After the curries go on the rice they put the magical ingredients over that. You want that. Get the chicken from the pot, it’s been cooking for a while and the flavor has soaked in just right. The lights are glaring near the counter; it’s where you want to sit. Watching the experts order, a little more of this, none of that, each plate different than the last. Infinite combinations possible.Watch the hands that dish the food rapidly and with the confidence of having done it thousands of times. The chop of the knife making the meat into perfect bite size pieces. It’s magic and they do the same trick over and over and you don’t get bored of it.


Leaving towards home, turning right onto Leith towards the Blue Mansion and the Red Garden, you feel cooler, as if hope has returned. Maybe it will be different tomorrow, even though you secretly know every day is the same here on the equator. Only two seasons, hot and really hot. Maybe tomorrow you’ll get rain, maybe not. You have to have hope. This is Penang.



Maybe, Istanbul

Maybe it will happen when you are standing on the Galata Bridge. The bridge crosses the Golden Horn from Karakoy to Eminonu where the Ottoman Sultans ruled for more than 500 years. The bridge will be busy, as always. Throngs of pedestrians mingle with fisherman and vendors for space on the wide sidewalks. Boat traffic of every size and variety vies for the narrow space below as they have since time was recorded. Occasionally a fisherman will have luck and pull a sardine sized fish from the gray waters below. Vendors sell steamed mussels and small bait fish to all who pass.

Hagia Sofia



Rising up from the bridge on either side, the hills climb sharply from the water. At the base of the hill on the “old” side of town several gaudily decorated and heavily rocking boats are loosely tied to the pier. They sell fried fish sandwiches, probably mackerel, to crowds of devoted fans. The cooks work at unbelievable speed to turn out the sandwiches for the never ending line of hungry patrons. Cement stairs serve as benches to enjoy the simple and simply delicious snack. At the base of the “new” side of town, a busy fish market sells the latest catch to the bargaining masses gathered to find the best choices. Vendors constantly sprinkle sea water on the shiny silver fish to keep them fresh and delicious. The famous Istanbul cats wander everywhere looking for sneakily gained snacks.

It is best to be here when the sunset call to prayer begins. Like a massive, medieval battle of the bands, the call beckons the faithful from amplified speakers on every mosque in the area. The sound is exotic, chaotic, alluring and even a little frightening as it echoes for several minutes off the hills and through the narrow streets of the area. For the perfect end to the show, the sky glows a burning orange behind the giant Suleymaniye Mosque atop the tallest hill to the west as the sun retires after another glorious day.

Golden Horn


Maybe it will happen to you when you are in the Egyptian (Spice) Market not far from the New Mosque. If it is a Saturday, the crowd will reach a critical mass where movement is barely possible. The excited voices of the crowd mix with the shopkeeper’s calls to enter their shops and sample all that they have on offer. Taste, Smell and Sight are all pleased here. Towers of colorful spices of every variety, piled high to perfect peaks are beautifully displayed. Every color of the rainbow from blue to purple and yellow to bright red are all here. A feast for the nose as much as the eyes, the aromas are as various as the colors. Magical blends, pre-mixed for the visitor make easy work of creating delicious treats at home.

Teas of every variety are the specialty of another shop. Black, White, Green, Herbal, Hibiscus, Rose, Mint, Ginger and Chamomile are only a sampling. Exotic blends with names drawn from the faraway places of your travel imagination. Teas to help you stay awake, sleep better and live longer are all advertised under the glaring lights.

Istiklal Avenue Tram


As you slowly make your way, stay within the vendors reach. They will provide samples of delicious treats as you go. They pass trays of dried fruit, exotic nuts and all sorts of honey covered goodness. The best of all are the many varieties of everyone’s favorite, Turkish Delight. This legendary sweet made from a gel of sugar and starch is flavored with everything from rosewater to lemon or orange. Filled with dates, pistachios or hazelnuts and sprinkled with powdery sugar they make a delicious treat to remember your visit to this exotic wonderland.

New Mosque


Maybe it will happen as you walk down famous Istiklal Avenue. High atop a hill in the Beyoglu area of the city, Istaklal is a people watchers paradise. Three million people walk this mile long pedestrian avenue from Taksim Square to the Funicular near Galata Tower every day. They pass boutiques, art galleries, cafes, bookstores, patisseries and restaurants, all housed in gorgeous multi-storied buildings from the late 19th and early 20th century. When Istanbul is called the Paris of the East, this is the boulevard they are speaking of. Roasted chestnut carts are positioned well and a restored historic tram rings its bell to warn walkers of its proximity as it makes its way through the middle of the crowd. Guitar, horn, violin and even bagpipe players entertain along the way. Musicians dressed as Native Americans, a gypsy woman selling an armful of roses and even a man walking a group of geese are included in the group.

The side streets nearby can offer quiet respite if needed. Lined with seafood restaurants, galleries, Turkish baths called hamams or simple tea shops where you could even partake in smoking a nargile or Turkish water pipe. The smell of apple scented smoke is prevalent in the early evenings as students from nearby schools mix with tourists to enjoy a warm drink and a scented smoke. Wonderfully restored hotels offer rooftop terraces where commanding views can be had all the way to the Bosphorus.

Istanbul Cat


Maybe it will happen as you take the ferry from the busy harbor along the Golden Horn. The 20 minute ferry ride across the Bosphorus to Asia costs less than 1 dollar and provides unparalleled views of this massive city of 14 million.

Passing the Topkapi Palace where Ottoman Sultans kept court at the tip of the peninsula, it becomes clear why this city was the perfect spot to center an empire. Istanbul rises on seven hills above the Golden Horn, a narrow body of water that provides a natural harbor and perfect protection from invaders on three sides. Istanbul straddles both sides the Bosphorus Strait which provides the only path between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara (and the Mediterranean Sea beyond). Controlling Istanbul meant controlling the riches of trade between Eastern and Western civilizations. Roman, Latin, Byzantine, Ottoman and finally Turkish rulers have held this as the center of power for their empires for more than 2500 years. The capital has moved on to Ankara, but the spiritual and financial heart of Turkey still resides here.



Children laughingly feed seabirds that fly along with the ferry as it crosses calm seas on the short journey. While most use the ferries as transportation to their homes in distant parts of the city, it seems that many are, just like us, enjoying a sunny afternoon on the water in mid-December. The return trip provides stunning views of another beautiful sunset and opportunity to view the city as the lights turn on like millions of stars on a crystal night.

It happened to us as we entered a seemingly ancient ruin of an old building called Buyuk Valide Han (Great Mother Inn) not far from the Grand Bazaar. We passed through the cavernous arched doorway hidden by a green tinged ancient metal door. The doorway led to an inner courtyard filled with tiny shops not meant for the tourist trade. An ancient stairway, its steps well worn by millions of users over hundreds of years, drew us to a dimly lit second floor where dark and dusty stone passageways lead to tiny shops where craftsmen labored over open fires creating glass and metal creations of great beauty. It was as if we had entered a time hundreds of years before present day.

Blue Mosque


A grizzled old man stood in the shadows of a corner. He showed us an ancient set of rusted keys and conveyed that he wanted to show us something. His smile and excitement were contagious enough that we followed him to a tiny, nearly hidden door nearby. He unlocked and opened the door and motioned for us to enter.

We climbed the twisting stairs that had no rails and were curved from centuries of wear. We nervously moved toward the light coming from above, reassured only by the sounds of faint laughter drifting from somewhere near, and finally arrived on the roof of the ancient building. As we passed on to the roof the most glorious view imaginable awaited us. The entire city seemed laid out below. The Golden Horn, Galata Bridge and Tower, Bosphorus and multiple immense mosques with towering minarets seemed to fill the horizon. Well-dressed teenagers who knew of this enchanted place were busy taking “selfies” with the incredible backdrop behind them. A couple of backpackers arrived soon. We spent nearly an hour enjoying this spectacle as the clouds seemed to magically part and what had been an overcast day became sunny with just the perfect white clouds to provide contrast. We had found our corner of Istanbul.

Ortakoy Mosque


Istanbul is often described with the clichéd phrase, “City where East meets West”, but it is much more. It is a city where opposites not only attract, but also collide to create a truly special and unique destination that everyone should see. Young meets old, modern meets ancient, quiet meets boisterous, intellectual meets physical and artistic meets practical. It is a city filled with friendly people who have hosted visitors for centuries. Maybe you will find what you are looking for in one of the places that we have seen or maybe you will find your own special place in another corner of this fascinating city. Istanbul is now and always has been a place of discoveries and adventures and it won’t disappoint if, maybe, you decide to visit this incredible destination.


Stranded on an Undeserted Island

What is it that inspires us to travel? What motivates us to leave our comfortably routine workaday life, cast off the lines and sail toward some unknown horizon? What far-off call beckons so loudly that we can’t quiet it without further investigating its source? How bright does the sunset at the end of the distant road or just over the farthest mountain have to be before we drive towards it in an attempt to make it last just a moment longer?

Perhaps we derive inspiration from colorful words arranged on a page in such a way that our wanderlust is aroused. We simply can’t live without seeing if the vision our mind created matches the scene the author describes. Perhaps the smell or taste of some exotic food carefully prepared in an ancient way by a well-practiced chef inspires us to follow our hunger toward the simmering pot of goodness that waits to be sampled in a faraway kitchen. Perhaps we harbor a secret doubt that the combination of colors captured in a photograph of a rainbow filled sky could actually exist in a distant land just beyond our own?

Procida, Italy


How intense does our minds creation need to be before we decide to find out if there could be a reality that lives up to our imagination? How vivid do the colors, smells and sounds in our head need to be for us to cast care to the wind and follow that vision, no matter how long it may take to find? What do we need to visualize before we are motivated enough to deviate from our normal path?

What did we imagine?

Did we imagine crowded ferries quickly loading and unloading impatient passengers at busy terminals? Ferries that ride on choppy, aqua water destined for tiny islands with famous names. Islands that appear on horizons as small dots under large, darkening clouds. Larger ferries for cars and fare conscious passengers. Fast moving hydrofoils that carry tourists and those who think time is money. A group of skyscraper teenage models drink espresso and pick at pastries at a large table. Anxious photographers hover nearby, obviously having noticed the clouds that threaten their productivity and pocketbooks. A burning smell of your carelessly prepared panini drifts from the toaster as the indifferent young cook pays more attention to the models than your first food of the day.

Santa Margherita Church


Did we imagine being greeted on arrival by a blinding rainstorm so strong that it didn’t seem possible that amount of water could be held in a cloud? Water that seemed to come from every direction, including up. Wind howled hard through nearby sailboat masts creating a dreadful moaning sound that seemed frighteningly human. A race with heavy bags to a nearby fisherman bar filled with a rough cast of characters straight from a Hollywood movie. Enjoying a well-earned beer from the self- serve cooler next to the bar. Listening to the sailors tell stories you knew were bawdy even though you couldn’t understand even one word.

Did we imagine cobbled roads that wind through peeling stucco buildings designed centuries before there were thoughts of modern transportation? Roads designed to carry wares between the two main marinas of the island. Tiny streets filled with pedestrians, scooters and cars competing for space at speeds that don’t feel comfortable to newcomers. The cars with side mirrors turned back or broken off entirely, surely from earlier battles with the well scuffed walls. The sides of the cars show scratches of many colors, no doubt matching a scratch on another car, somewhere else on the island. Feeling like you should be wearing white clothes and red bandanas in Pamplona as you hurry from tiny doorway to doorway to avoid the honking metal bulls. Your fear turns to embarrassment as you hurry past two young mothers with carriages casually having a conversation knowing that the cars have just enough room to pass.

Marina Corricella


Did we imagine views of secret courtyards behind ornate wrought iron gates with designs of centuries past? Grassy yards behind 10 foot walls that surely keep the road noise at bay. Untended grape vines beneath waxy green trees with lemons so large they could be grapefruit. The fruit has wrinkled skin, thick pith and a sweet taste that is rightfully famous. Developed to keep the islands sailors healthy on long sea journeys of the past. A delicious lemon salad is served in most restaurants and homemade limoncello is popular at any local gathering.

Did we imagine living in a house on the highest point of the island? A terrace that sits above every other building on the island and provides 360 degree views of the entire 4 square kilometers of volcanic land below. Taking in distant views of Pompeii, Sorrento, Capri and Vesuvius as your laundry dries in the warm breeze of a late October afternoon. A nearby church that was founded 1000 years ago by monks and now has beautiful bells that sound perfectly throughout the day. A house that sits inside the oldest settlement on the island, surrounded by ancient walls. Walls built first to protect the religious and the wealthy from far away intruders. Later the walls held prisoners in the classic punishment of seeing all the lights of civilization from behind the bars of your drafty island cell.

Did we imagine strolling along the marina amongst the tiny houses built in a way that no mad architect could ever have imagined? Houses with such a vast pastel palette they appear to rise from the sea like scoops of fruit flavored summer gelato piled one on top of another. Ancient fisherman mending nets in the afternoon sun. A man, perhaps channeling his own Pablo Neruda, writing in a journal while sitting in the dockside inn made famous in the movie “Il Postino”. Stairways climb steeply from the harbor to the church above. Stairs so steep that they take your breath in equal parts from exertion and from witnessing the beauty of the view they provide over the tranquil harbor.

Terra Murata


Did we imagine the everyday sunsets and sunrises so intense that it sometimes appeared the sky was on fire? Viewed from the lookout high above Marina Corricella or from the belvedere in Terra Murata the brightly colored clouds made each morning and evening something to look forward to.

Did we imagine the spine jolting bus ride through the narrow streets and up the imposing hill to our walled mountaintop villa? Cursing the rattling and bouncing ride we memorized each bump along the way. Climbing the steep hill to our house twice daily while the bus was being repaired for several days, making trips to the market into grueling, lung busting marches. Being ever thankful and promising never to criticize the bus again as it carried us up the hill after its return from repairs.

La Corricella Sunset


It’s difficult to say if our month long journey to our tiny island in a faraway sea lived up to the vision we created in our imagination. This was never going to be the classic trip to the deserted island in an endless sea that many dream of. Far from that, it was a month spent in a place far from tourism. We lived as locals on a tiny island in the middle of an ancient land far away from our own home. While not everything we imagined, it will still be remembered as more than we should have hoped for.


Amazing Red Rock Country

From Billy the Kid to Wyatt Earp, General Custer to Geronimo, the American West was filled with legendary characters. Novelists and short story writers blended fact and fiction to create bigger than life characters and made them famous in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Thousands of young and old readers living on the East Coast of the United States followed the stories of the daring men and women who tamed a frontier seemingly filled with danger and adventure around every corner.
The cattle ranches were immense, the women were beautiful and the native people were both respected for their traditions and feared for their warrior-like aggression. According to the writers, the men who settled the west had to be brave, strong, wise and probably quick with a gun. They walked a little taller and talked a little louder than normal men and inspired generations to travel west seeking their own adventure.

Monument Valley

Eventually Hollywood took over where the writers left off. Directors and Cinematographers needed to find filming locations that were as big as the stories they were going to tell. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Gary Cooper filled the screen and demanded landscapes that were as big as the legends they were portraying
It led them directly to the iconic mountains, valleys, canyons and plains of Northern Arizona. Hollywood found the Monument Valley on the Arizona/Utah border. The canyons formed by the Colorado River over the millennium provided the perfect backdrop for these epic stories. The windblown, water eroded and nearly treeless terrain which changed color hourly with the angle of the sun proved to be exactly what they needed for their movies. They came and made themselves, the western legends and Arizona famous.
Just like those who came before, we were drawn to this area ourselves. Seeing the iconic photographs of the area as we have travelled around the Southwestern US over the last few months created a desire to see it, too. We left our harbor side condo in San Carlos, Mexico where we had spent the last month and headed north.

Seven Sacred Pools

After an easy border crossing and a night in a Phoenix hotel, we arrived at our new home of Sedona, Arizona. Sedona is a small town about 1 ½ hours north of Phoenix in the beautiful Red Rock area of Arizona. The main reason for most to visit Sedona is the heart-stopping, breathtaking scenery. Entering the area from the south was amazing. The road winds through a valley surrounded by dramatic buttes, cliffs and unusually shaped peaks. While predominantly red in color they can also be white, black, purple, orange or yellow. It is absolutely gorgeous and ranks with any natural scenery we have witnessed anywhere in the world.
Over millions of years, layers of sandstone and limestone were left in the area by a receding ocean. Iron oxide eventually covered the grains of sandstone and, in a natural process, rust formed. The stunningly beautiful red rocks of Sedona are the result of this process.

Juniper and Red Rock

We spent our first couple of weeks exploring the local area. Sedona has more than 300 miles of trails crisscrossing the area. The trails are used by hikers, equestrians and mountain bikers to gain access to perfect views over the best rock formations. We quickly learned the names of the most famous formations as most hikers give directions using their creative and descriptive names. Coffee Pot Rock, Cathedral Rock, Bell Rock, Devil’s Bridge, the Sphinx, Snoopy Rock and Courthouse Rock are just a few.
Oak Creek runs through the center of town. It is lined by wonderful Cottonwood trees that had just finished changing colors when we arrived. The beautiful yellow color of the leaves mixed colorfully with the green of Ponderosa Pines and giant Oaks that line the banks. Against the background of the red rock the colors were stunningly gorgeous. We took several long walks along the river and enjoyed the sounds of the rushing stream passing through the canyons.
Many know Sedona as a destination to find spiritual enrichment. They believe that Sedona contains many active vortex sites. Vortexes are points at which the earth emits swirling waves of energy. The energy interacts with all living things near the vortex location. It is believed that the earth’s energy strengthens ones inner energy core and provides renewed clarity and focus. It is common to follow a trail to a vortex site and find people doing yoga or just meditating quietly. Small rock pillars are found everywhere marking these energy emitting points.

Horseshoe Bend

We to quick journeys outward from Sedona to nearby small towns that were predominately founded by miners to exploit the surrounding areas mineral wealth. The town of Jerome is high on a mountain overlooking the area and is filled with galleries, saloons, restaurants and haunted hotels. The nearby towns of Clarkdale and Cottonwood have restored downtown areas which give an excellent glimpse into the rural Arizona lifestyle of the recent past.
Before miners arrived to the area, Native Americans settled here for thousands of years. The Sinagua tribe built cliffside dwellings and farmed the area. Abundant water and game made for the perfect place to build permanent housing on hilltops and near the streams. The strangely named Montezuma’s Castle, Montezuma’s Well and Tuzigoot are National Monuments that preserve the ruins of these settlements and provide a glimpse into how these ancient people lived.

Highway 163

We expanded our surroundings farther and decided to travel north to the famous Monument Valley. The area was made famous by actor John Wayne and director John Ford who filmed some of the greatest western movies ever made amongst the dramatic scenery. Giant, eroded sandstone formations stand against enormous buttes. A seventeen mile loop road travels between the monuments and leads to overlooks that provide breathtaking views across the scarred plateau. A balloon festival had been scheduled for the day, but was cancelled early due to fog. While unfortunate for the balloonists, not many people were visiting the valley while we were there. It made for a surreal adventure as we slowly drove through the unforgettable landscape which was nearly deserted except for us.
Another road trip north led us to one of Arizona’s most photogenic locations. We travelled to the small town of Page, Arizona which is located near the massive Glen Canyon dam. The dam was built to provide power generation for much of Arizona. The building of the dam created a gigantic Lake Powell, which has become a popular destination for boaters from all over the Western United States.

Monument Valley

A popular activity when visiting Page is touring the unique slot canyons located on the Navajo reservation. The most famous slot canyons are the Navajo run Upper and Lower Antelope Canyons. The water carved canyons are a twisted, time worn reminder of nature’s power to overcome the rugged earth. Our guide led us through the labyrinth of sculpted sandstone. The narrowly visible light from above the narrow canyon made for unique and changing colors as we made our way through the tiny underground passageways.

Lower Antelope Canyon

Our final adventure in the Page area was to the often photographed Horseshoe Bend. Over the millennia the Colorado River has worn a canyon through the red rock landscape. A short trail leads to an overlook of a huge bend in the river from the rim above. Brave photographers perch precariously at the top to capture the unique view of the river more than 1000 feet below. There are no platforms or railings present and it is quite frightening on normal days. On the day we visited, a large windstorm had kicked up and literally 50 mile per hour gusts filled with sand and pebbles were blowing on our backs as we leaned precariously over the edge to capture our photo remembrance of the view. It was quite frightening with nothing but certain death between us and the surrealistically beautiful river below.
We have plans to visit the Grand Canyon before we leave next week for further adventures north. We have enjoyed our time in Red Rock Country. This is a unique and truly breathtaking area of the world that everyone should visit at least once.
We hope all of our readers and friends have an enjoyable holiday season. Thanks for following along on our travels this year and we hope to see you soon in the coming year.

Cathedral Rock


Better than Rome and Paris?

We were standing on La Rambla, the wide, tree lined, main promenade through the oldest section of Barcelona, Spain on our second day in town. We got in a little late from Paris the night before and didn’t have time to do much except unpack and fill the refrigerator with groceries and spend a little time getting familiar with our new neighborhood.
La Rambla is the most famous street in Barcelona and perhaps all of Spain. It runs for about 1 kilometer from the Columbus statue that overlooks the old harbor to Placa Catalunya, the central plaza that serves as the hub for all the spoke-like streets of Barcelona. On this day, La Rambla was crowded with a huge number of vendors, all of which are selling either roses or books. Women are standing in long lines at many of the booths to buy signed copies of books from the authors who are doing a brisk business. Men are waiting in line to buy roses, most of which are red, although some are white or blue.
It’s still quite early in the afternoon, but the crowd seems to have doubled since we arrived an hour before. Within another 30 minutes it has doubled again. The lines are long at all the vendors and it is getting quite difficult to make our way down the street. We have heard that La Rambla is always busy but this is really crazy. We look down the streets that run perpendicular to La Rambla and they are now jammed also. It seems like it must be a major holiday, but it’s April 23rd and a Wednesday afternoon and this seems more like New Year’s Eve. This can’t be normal!

Palau Nacional at Night

We finally find out that this is Sant Jordi’s Day (St. George’s Day in English). Not celebrated in America, but easily the most romantic day in Barcelona. The legend is that St. George slayed a dragon for a fair maiden and in commemoration, men in Barcelona now give their best girl a rose. Women give men a book. The book has less to do with St. George and more to do with the fact that the romantic writers William Shakespeare and Cervantes died on April 23rd. More than half of the books sold in Barcelona are sold on Sant Jordi’s Day.
One of the fun things about travel is discovering holidays celebrated in other countries that are different than your own. This holiday took us by surprise and even though it was quite crowded, it made our first day out in Barcelona very interesting.

Sagrada Familia

We have a small apartment in a very nice part of town just a short walk from Placa Espanya. The Placa Espanya area was developed around the time of the 1929 Exposition (like a World’s Fair). The area was further developed during the Olympics in 1992 and is very nice. The old bullfighting ring (bullfighting is illegal in Catalonia now) that dominates the plaza has been re-purposed into a nice shopping plaza with many restaurants on the roof. We are walking distance to the national art museum of Catalonia (Palau Nacional), the Magic Fountains of Montjuic and the main area that hosted the Olympics in the Montjuic area of town.

Catalonia Colors

Barcelona has kind of taken us by surprise. Having just come from Rome and Paris, we expected to have a bit of a letdown in the beauty department. Too be honest, we are a little shocked at how beautiful this city is. The streets are clean, well lit and tree-lined. Sidewalks are wide and bicycle paths are everywhere. Benches are plentiful and placed in prime locations to view the springtime gardens, fountains and statues located nearby. The architecture of the buildings is incredible with ornate balconies and grand entranceways. In the old parts of town (Barri Gotic, El Raval, La Ribera and El Born) the narrow alleys lead past ancient churches and under low arches. Quiet plazas seem to be around every corner. Small restaurants place tables in the plazas and serve delicious Tapas, red wine or Sangria to well-dressed international and local travelers.
Getting around town is a breeze with plentiful busses and an excellent Metro. We have a bus stop outside our apartment and a Metro stop a block away. There are large grocery markets in town but most fun are the excellent bakeries, butchers or vegetable markets in every neighborhood. Like Paris and Rome, Barcelona has many unique neighborhoods. You can easily trace the development of the city, literally from the Roman era through the Renaissance and up until today.

Barceloneta Beach

It doesn’t take long to find out that while you may have arrived in Spain, you are most definitely in Catalonia. Flags and banners are present in most squares and from many balconies. After struggling with language somewhat in Italy and France, we were excited to be able to use our poor Spanish and at least be able to read signs and find directions again. While everyone here speaks Spanish, most signage is in Catalan not Spanish. Catalan is a unique language that is somewhat a cross between French and Spanish. Luckily most signs around tourist sites are in Catalan, Spanish and English and most people speak some English too.
Unlike some of the other popular European cities, Barcelona has 5 km of wonderful beaches. The old seaport village of Barceloneta is located just off of La Rambla and is host to one of the most popular beaches in town. A wide walkway runs along the beach all the way from Barceloneta to the area where the Olympic Village was located. The beaches are filled with volleyball players, bicycle riders, sun worshippers and many people just enjoying the many seafood restaurants along the way. Benches line the walkway and provide excellent views of the sunny Mediterranean Sea.

La Boqueria

The arts are not forgotten here either. Pablo Picasso and Joan Miro spent significant amounts of time here and both have museums dedicated to them. Long lines can be found on Carrer Montcado in the La Ribera neighborhood every day waiting to get into the Picasso Museum. The National Art Museum of Catalonia is located in the palatial Palau Nacional located in Montjuic. The museum was built for the 1929 Exposition and is a work of art in itself especially when lit at night. It is located just uphill from the Magic Fountains of Montjuic which feature colorful fountain displays nightly in summer that are choreographed to music. This is by far our favorite thing we have seen in Barcelona.
Music is everywhere, from musicians playing in the metro and tiny alleyways for free all the way to wonderful concerts played in the stunningly ornate Palau de la Musica Catalanya. Even jazz clubs can be found near Placa Reial not far from La Rambla.

Parc Guell- Gaudi Design

Architecture reached new heights in Barcelona also. Antoni Gaudi designed many fantastical buildings in Barcelona and helped create the modernist style he is famous for. We visited Casa Batllo close to town and took a short Metro ride to Parc Guell to view his interesting designs. Of course his most famous work is the gigantic, unfinished basilica called Sagrada Familia in the La Eixample neighborhood. All of these are jammed packed with visitors and have long lines. We have of course seen Sagrada Familia from the outside (it would be impossible to not see!), but have yet to brave the long wait times to get inside.
Barcelona has so far proved to be a wonderful surprise. It is truly a beautiful city that should be high on anyone’s list of places to visit soon. We still have a couple of more weeks here and look forward to seeing more of this great city.

Palau Nacional


Checking out the B side in Paris

I suppose I’m somehow dating myself here, but I can’t help thinking back to the days when you would buy a 45 or an album because you liked a particular song you heard on the radio. Invariably you took it home and played it a million times. It was your favorite song and you felt as though you were the one who had discovered it.
Of course, as time went on, you noticed more and more people were also enjoying “your” song. It actually became popular and it seemed everywhere you went people were humming the song or talking about how great the band was. It was still the same song you discovered, but in some way it seemed different now that so many other people liked it. Other people were interpreting the meaning of the song and it didn’t seem as personal as it had.

Paris Sky

Luckily enough there was a side B or other songs on the album. While everyone else was learning the song you originally liked, you found new subjects and meanings on side B. It was almost as if you had discovered your favorite band again.
Because we usually stay for at least a month in each place we visit, we have a similar thing happen when we travel. We arrive in our new city and madly run around visiting all the big name places. It’s exciting and it seems like we are the first people to ever visit. It doesn’t take long to see everything and then we usually slow down. As we pass back through the places we earlier saw, they seem to be filled with huge crowds of people who are now acting as excited we once were. They are making the same comments and jokes as we did and seem to be claiming the places for themselves. How dare they!

Paris Night

Luckily we have learned to turn the record over to side B.
Tired of endless lines to climb or visit Notre Dame? No problem. Head over to Saint Eustache near Les Halles. I thought it was just as impressive as Notre Dame. The arches tower amazingly high over beautiful stained glass windows. The church was having a pipe organ concert that night and we were able to hear the sound checks for the show during our visit. We have been in hundreds of churches over the last few years but have never experienced the full power of the pipe organ played by a master.
Perhaps you are dreading the massive crowds at Versailles (they are huge!!!). Just check out the equally impressive and much less visited Chateau Fontainebleau. We easily caught the train there a few days ago and absolutely enjoyed it. The architecture and gardens are just as amazing and we virtually had the entire place to ourselves. Standing alone for 15 minutes in the royal apartments where Henry IV, Louis XIV, Napoleon I and III and even Marie Antoinette had spent their time was amazing. It was so quiet we could almost hear their ghosts. You won’t get that at Versailles!

Chateau Fontainebleau

Enjoy following the trail of the famous artists that left their mark in beautiful Montmartre? Maybe there are a few too many others taking the same picture as you are? Just head out to the Belleville neighborhood. The starving artists of Montmartre moved out long ago and with the costs of rents I doubt they will be back any time soon. Belleville is a working class neighborhood filled with cheap restaurants, cafes and bars intermixed with loads of art galleries with real working artists. Many walls are covered with graffiti and it doesn’t take long to find a future Hemingway or Toulouse-Lautrec sitting at a corner table scribbling away in their journal. You can even have a conversation with them if you like. It’s half the price and twice the fun.

Belleville Alley

Paris has literally hundreds of art museums. One look at the 2 hour line at the Louvre or Musee d’Orsay may have you second guessing your idea of taking a selfie with the Mona Lisa. While not as famous, you can avoid the lines easily by spending an evening with art students pondering the photography exhibits at the Maison Europeenne de la Photographie , a photography museum displaying some thought provoking work by some of the great photographers working today. Or perhaps visit some of the less known museums like the Petit Palais across the river from Invalides. The permanent gallery is free and pretty stunning.

Chateau Fontainebleau

The famous cafes along Saint-Germain or Montparnasse boulevards are stunning and have a past clientele that probably couldn’t be matched by many other restaurants in the world. I wouldn’t tell anyone not to go there because having a meal in the Paris springtime sunshine won’t be forgotten. However I heard a lot of languages other than French being spoken and sometimes it seems like perhaps there might have been a tourist bus parked somewhere nearby. You can enjoy an equally authentic meal on one of the market streets like Rue Mouffetard near the Latin Quarter or Rue Montorgueil in the Marais. When you order the café owners even run down the street to a vendor to get the freshest ingredients. Maybe even select your own picnic at the markets along the streets. Be assured that all those famous people probably shopped here along with going to the famous cafes on the Boulevards.

Montmartre Cemetery

Maybe you are headed out to the Pere Lachaise cemetery to see Jim Morrison’s grave. It won’t be hard to find because there are plenty of people with flash cameras posing in front of it. Maybe pass on Jim and visit the French singer Edith Piaf’s grave on the other side of the cemetery. She has an interesting history also and you can visit her birthplace while you’re in Belleville. The place where she was supposedly born on the street is marked with a plaque. Perhaps you could visit Dalida’s grave in the Montmarte cemetery. While not famous in America, everyone in France knows this famous singer. Another interesting personal history and when you see all the people, young and old, posing in front of her mansion in Montmarte, you’ll know who she is. You might even pose for a picture yourself.

Champs Elysees Sunset

I am not in any way saying that you should not see some of the more famous places of Paris. We went to them all. Just be aware that others will be “discovering” them along with you. I know that not everyone has as much time to spend in one place as we do. Perhaps you have already been to Paris and think you have already seen “everything”. Be aware that there is always a B side to be checked out. You may even find that it is just as good, if not better, than the A side everyone else knows about.

Place Concorde Sunset


140 Square Feet of Springtime in Paris

It was the last day of winter when I left her. It wasn’t anything she did; I just needed to move along. She was everything you could want and was easy to love. She kept me warm on many a winter night. She was beautiful, passionate and very romantic. The long nights on the river are unforgettable. And the food! I never ate so well in my life. A real Renaissance kind of girl you could say. I guess I don’t have to feel too bad. She has lots of other admirers and I know she won’t lack attention for long after I’m gone.
It wasn’t her, it was me. I wanted something new. Maybe a little more refined and complicated. I needed knowledge to go with the looks. You know the type. Studious, businesslike. All work and politics during the day, but once the lights go out at night… the party starts. There is a reason that all the artists, authors and celebrities love her and seem to be pulled toward her. I wasn’t going to give up on the food or the long walks by the river either. This time I wanted it all. Spring was here and it was time for a change. Riding the bus wasn’t good enough anymore. I wanted to move up to the metro.
Yeah, we left Rome and went to Paris…..

Le Consulat

It was a bit of a sad ride to the Fiumicino Airport on the outskirts of Rome. We had a great time in Rome, but were excited to be off to Paris. Neither of us had been to Paris in the past and had been studying like crazy for the last couple of days so we could hit the ground running.
It was a quick 2 hour flight and we moved through Orly airport easily. No need for immigration. Once you’re in the EU you’re good to go. We allowed 3 hours after arriving to meet our new landlord at our Montmartre apartment. It turned out we could have made it easy in 2.

Paris Sunset

The cab was almost as expensive as the budget airline ticket that got us to Paris. We could have taken the Metro, but with heavy bags we decided it was just too hard. We had toured lots of our new neighborhood on Googlemaps before arriving and it was exciting to start seeing places we recognized.

Eiffel Tower

We took the tiny, rickety elevator up the 6 floors to our new apartment. Even though the 3 of us barely fit in the elevator, I have to admit it was nice to be riding upstairs after living in a 5th floor walkup in Rome for a month. Paris is quite expensive and we went for about the cheapest place we could find. It was kind of hard to picture what 140 square feet would look like. 5 steps that way by 3 steps that way. Didn’t seem possible to fit everything we needed into such a small package.

Sacre Coeur

The apartment was a little shocking at first. It is really small. After the landlady wished us luck, we started to look around and actually discovered it was well appointed. We had plenty of dishes and satellite TV. The internet was pretty good. If we leaned out our floor to ceiling window at just the right angle, we could see out over the roofs of Paris. The wooden floors were creaky and the walls were paper thin, but we look out over a courtyard and you know, it’s Paris. The fold out sofa bed is unbelievably comfortable. The stores and laundry are virtually next door and it’s a block to the Metro. Perfect!

Paris Metro

We spent a couple of days getting used to the Metro (which is excellent). Everyone rides it and it goes everywhere. We enjoy attempting to pronounce the names of the upcoming stations and comparing our guess with the automated ladies voice that announces on the train. After 10 days we’re at least getting a little closer. There are lots of unnecessary letters in French.
We live in the Montmartre neighborhood, just down the hill a little from the famous Sacre Coeur church that overlooks all of Paris. It is a wonderful neighborhood at night filled with cafes and restaurants. Montmartre drew all the famous artists before the First World War Picasso, Monet, Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec all roamed these streets at one time. Now the streets and alleys surrounding the church are generally filled with tourists, but a little down the hill, where we live, it is a little quieter and more local oriented.

Moulin Rouge

Like New York, Paris is filled with iconic names and places that don’t need a lot of study. The Latin Quarter, Left Bank and Saint Germain des Pres are all well-known artist and author locales. Montparnasse is beautiful and filled with the most beautiful cafes. Luxembourg Gardens and the islands in the middle of the Seine are classic. Hemingway lived or drank here; Julia Child learned to cook there, even a café where Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson had coffee with their morning omelet. The Marais and Grand Boulevards are filled with wonderful shops and grand mansions from many eras. The opera house is indeed Grand. Looking over the entire area is, of course, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower.

Montmartre Night

When the lights come on at night the city changes completely and justifies the nickname “City of Light”. Carousels turn and spotlights come on to light the Arc de Triomphe, Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower. The alleys take on a beautiful glow from the abundant neon and streetlights. Cafes bustle and the fashionable people walk everywhere.

Au Lapin Agile

The food is to die for. Pastries, bread, produce and meat markets are everywhere. The smells from the bakeries are hard to resist. The condiments look delicious even if you don’t know what they are. The vendors all seem to wear aprons and have characteristic faces from the movies. The cafes are filled with well-dressed patrons enjoying small plates of food or tiny, steaming cups of light brown coffee. We love looking in the windows of the ornate Brasseries, imagining the diners having intimate conversations over glasses of wonderful wine.

Notre Dame

Paris is beautiful and we are happy to be here. I hated to leave my first love in Rome and although I really can’t afford my new girlfriend, some things may be worth going into debt for. Turn the lights on bright, I’m ready for my walk by the river now….

Cafe de Flore