• Two Gentle-Joneses of Verona

    24. lokakuuta 2024, Italia ⋅ ☁️ 64 °F

    We spent a lovely day exploring Verona and wandering its streets. In Verona, I have found the perfect little Italian town: Small enough to navigate, not overrun with drunken tourists, still fairly authentic, local, and preserved, with excellent food, stunning architecture and history, and simply gorgeous. For the first time ever, I am charmed by an Italian town, and I would love to return. Holy shit! This is not something I have ever said before.

    We started our walking tour of Verona this morning at the astonishing Piazza Bra. I say "astonishing" because right smack in the middle of the piazza is a Roman amphitheater from 30 AD. It's the fifth largest Roman amphitheater on the planet, and color me excited that we've now seen the entire Top 5: The Colosseum in Rome; the amphitheater of Nimes, France; El Jem in Tunisia; and Arles, France. (These are things that history nerds find impressive. I am just saying.) I do luvs me an amphitheater.

    We continued on to Verona's most famous sight: La Casa di Giulietta, or Juliet's House. Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" was based here in Verona, and in 1905 some creatively-thinking marketing types decided to cash in. Juliet's House is a beautiful 14th century palazzo, previously owned by the Cappello family (who MIGHT have been related to Shakespeare's fictional "Capulet" family). In 1905, the family sold the palazzo to the city, and the town collectively agreed that yessiree, that's Juliet's house! And then eagerly awaited the delicious tourism money to begin rolling in. (Spoiler alert: it did, and has never stopped.) In 1936 someone decided to crank the contrivance up to 11, and added the iconic balcony. No joke: The city found an unused medieval sarcophagus (don't we all have one or two lying around?), SAWED IT IN HALF, and stuck it on the exterior wall. Voila, it's her balcony!

    So people come from all over the world to see her balcony, visit her statue (and grope her boob for "good luck"), and leave love notes and requests for love advice stuck to the garden's walls...with chewing gum. It's as repulsive as Seattle's gum wall, except romantic and literary???

    People! Juliet and Romeo were FICTIONAL!

    Anyway, it all reminded me of Kronberg Castle in Copenhagen, which was the setting for Shakespeare's "Hamlet." So many British tourists would ask "where is Hamlet's grave?"- despite the fact that Hamlet is a FICTIONAL CHARACTER- that the castle gave up and created a "grave."

    I do not understand people.

    We strolled the morning market at the stunning Piazza delle Erbe. With its medieval Venetian architecture and bell towers, it looks like a movie set. Nearby is Piazza Dante, which is also shockingly well preserved, devoid of touristy shit, and utterly elegant and charming.

    Our walking tour led us by several tiny, dusty shops selling local specialties and wines. These types of shops are dwindling in Barcelona (we call them "colmados"), so we eagerly supported the local economy and bought some wine and cheese.

    We stopped for lunch at a small osteria on the river, then walked along the riverside promenade to see the lovely bridges spanning the Adige River. Ponte Pietra is the most famous; it was built in 100 BC (not a typo!), bombed in WWII, then rebuilt from the original stones dredged from the river. The 14th century Castel Vecchio, or Scaliger Bridge, is equally amazing- not only does it look like the love child of a castle and a bridge, but when it was built, it was the longest span in Europe.

    Later in the evening, we wandered the city. At night, with no day-tripper tourists, and the architecture beautifully lit, Verona is one of the loveliest towns I've ever seen. The piazzas and squares were peaceful yet buzzy; we snagged a riverside table for aperitivo hour, and enjoyed Campari spritzes under the terrace fairy lights. Around midnight, we had pre-bedtime gelato (that's a thing!) on a bench in Piazza Bra, in front of the amphitheater. Bliss.
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  • My Verona

    23.–25. lokak. 2024, Italia ⋅ 🌧 63 °F

    I'm back in Italy for the third time in a month (it's a long story, and I'll be back once again in 5 or 6 weeks). But this time it's for fun, to places we've never been: Verona and Bassano del Grappa. They're both in the Veneto region, about an hour or two outside Venice.

    Verona is famous for being the setting of several of Shakespeare's plays, including "Romeo and Juliet" and "Two Gentlemen From Verona," but why Bassano del Grappa? Well, a friend of mine from Bellevue Expedia moved to London Expedia at the same time as I did, and then she and her husband moved to Bassano del Grappa. We have wanted to visit them for a while, and we figured we should make a long weekend of it, and see lovely Verona as well.

    Also, Bassano del Grappa invented GRAPPA.

    As we arrived at the BCN airport lounge for a pre-departure cava, Matt began singing "My Verona" to the tune of "My Sharona." Between the cava and that earworm, I didn't realize I'd left my favorite black leather jacket in the lounge until our plane was taxiing down the runway. So Earworm 1, Denise 0, and I'm going to freeze my ass off this weekend.

    Shockingly, our cheap EU flight landed fifteen minutes early, and we arrived at our guesthouse earlier than expected. Our elderly host showed us our room- it's essentially a tiny apartment in a huge medieval palazzo where her family has lived for over 200 years. It was a classic peak AirBnB moment (circa 2010 or so) when real people would occasionally rent out a spare room in their homes, and you could meet some fascinating people. (Of course, this sounds amazing until we realized she really liked to talk, didn't seem inclined to actually leave, and I started to get images of waking up in the middle of the night and seeing her standing over the bed.)

    We managed to extricate ourselves, and headed to Trattoria Pane e Vino for our 9pm reservations for a seven-course tasting menu.

    Long-time readers of our travels (all three of you) know that unlike most humans, I do not love Italian food, pasta, or pizza. (I am aware that this makes me a subhuman oddity to many, but in my defense, I'm right.) So while it seems unlikely that I would indulge in an Italian tasting menu, Pane e Vino came highly recommended...and the amazing menu featured only one course of pasta.

    I am about to say something I have never said before: This Italian meal was one of the best things I've eaten all year.

    Each course featured very typical Verona ingredients presented in atypical ways, beginning with a "surprise of starters." One of the four "surprises" was two hollow chocolate balls filled with Italian vermouth- two of my favorite food groups- and I was so excited that I promptly spilled the vermouth all over the table. The following courses included housemade sausage, tiny pumpkin bread sandwiches filled with foie gras and goose (which I was so excited about that I forgot to take a photo), roasted quail roulade, homemade gnocchi with local cheese, a pasta dish in a thick rabbit ragu, and a deconstructed tiramisu. Now, normally I cannot be bothered with foo-foo "deconstructed" food (I'm paying the chef to literally CONSTRUCT my meal, so do yer job, pal), but this tiramisu did not fuck around and just served the goods: The delicious boozy custard and some cookie crumbs. That is perfection. No notes.

    After three hours, we walked back through a dark, rainy, beautiful Verona to our palazzo. As we passed Casa di Giulietta (Juliet's House), I started singing that Taylor Swift song "Love Story" about Romeo and Juliet, because nothing says "romantic evening in Italy" like a little Tay-Tay.

    (Matt countered my earworm with Dire Straits' "Romeo and Juliet." I may not have a jacket, but I have a playlist.)
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  • Montpell-YAY!

    9.–10. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☁️ 77 °F

    Day 5: Vendargues- Montpellier, 10 kms
    Total kms walked: 92 kms/ 92 kms
    Kms left to Montpellier: 0 kms

    OK, so those walking maps that insisted that today's walk was fifteen kilometers are LIARS! It was indeed a too-short ten kilometer walk to Montpellier today. And while that is barely a three-hour walk, luckily we filled the day with a long coffee and reading break at a café. Oh, and we spent thirty minutes in a newly constructed park, not yet outfitted with Camino markers, trying to figure out where the f*ck to go.

    (Can one of those helpful Camino peeps wander over to that new park, and stick some markers somewhere, so no one else gets lost? Asking for a friend.)

    We reached the city limits of Montpellier at 1 pm, and by 1:30pm we were standing in front of the Montpellier Cathedral. With our Pilgrim passports stamped, and our Camino complete, our thoughts turned to lunch.

    Throughout the week's walk, we'd mentioned repeatedly how delicious French crepes would be, and how disappointing it was that we hadn't seen a creperie all week.

    So the Camino provided one last time: Directly in front of the Cathedral was a French-Morrocan creperie, and the only café still serving at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon. And a perfect table for two sat on the terrace, facing the Cathedral. Score!

    After showers and long naps, we had dinner at Le Montis, a fantastic little bistro in the old quarter. We had a full-on celebratory Frenchie feast of roasted duck, duck gravlax, local rosé, and café gourmand (this bistro turned it up to eleven by offering CHAMPAGNE gourmand, but one mustn't be TOO much of a glutton). We toasted another successful Camino, and began planning the next one. (Stage #2 of the Camino Francés, from Pamplona to Logroño!).

    Until then, happy walking 🚶‍♀️ 👣
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  • Walking On Sunshine

    8.–9. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☁️ 79 °F

    Day 4: Saturargues- Vendargues, 18 kms
    Total kms walked: 82 kms/ 92 kms
    Kms left to Montpellier: 10 kms

    Wait, WTF? We have at least 15 kilometers to go tomorrow. Someone is either lying to me, or can't do basic math. Hrrmmph.

    Aside from geographic measurement disputes, today was a lovely day of walking. Unlike the previous days, it wasn't humidity-hell-hot in the afternoons, and we walked through cute villages, vineyards, fields of wildflowers, and NO rocky clifftops that would send me plunging to my death. Score!

    As we walked through the vineyards and wildflowers en route to the aptly named Entre-Vignes (Between the Vines), I thought to myself, This is all very pastoral. That thought was immediately followed by, Or is it 'bucolic'? So I wondered aloud, "Is this 'pastoral' or 'bucolic'? What's the difference?".

    At which point Matt reminded me that we had this exact conversation on a previous Camino. Who knew.

    We stopped for cafés in the hilltop town of Entre-Vignes, and then followed signs to the town's "Accueil de Pelerins" (Pilgrim's Welcome). I had high hopes of a champagne toast, confetti, and a clean toilet, but instead got a locked door and confused stares from a wedding party who I'm certain were judging our dusty, smelly selves.

    After our coffee break, we continued on walking through vineyards, which I've decided are the Via Tolosana's version of last year's endless hazelnut groves (or, as I call them, "Pre-Nutella trees"). I thereby resolved to begin calling grape vines "Pre-Rosé Bushes."

    We entered the cute little village of Saint-Geniès-des-Mourgues just in time for lunch. A perfectly French bistro sat in the town's main square, with a table for two under an oak tree. I savored a fantastic meal of l'oeuf parfait (poached egg in a creamy caramelized onion soup) and rare tuna, and Matt opted for the roasted zucchini with chevre (goat cheese), and roasted pork. We shared a pichet of rosé and post-lunch pastis, and after deciding that the desserts were sadly not very compelling, headed back on the Camino.

    The remainder of the day was a lovely mix of scenery and sunshine, and we walked into Vendargues around 4pm. Vendargues is one of those suburb-y French towns with no visible French culture or cuisine, and lovely ancient old town buildings host crappy takeout pizza joints, nail salons, and the odd professional service. The area surrounding these formerly charming villages is similar to the ugliest American suburban sprawl: Giant groceries and big-box stores with even bigger parking lots. I want to scream, You're French! You're in France! You don't have to live this way! WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG
    But I digress.

    Our guesthouse was....interesting. Billed as a "Zen escape" and an "intimate suite for couples with a private rooftop spa," what we were NOT expecting was a houseful of animals (with the smell to match) and a shared bathroom with the owner, who seemed genuinely surprised that we were even there. The rooftop jacuzzi was closed, and despite the warm weather, the rooftop terrace seemed to be closed (we used it anyway). I wanted to tell this guy: Adding a bunch of candles and bamboo towels does not equal "Zen." I am just saying, a stranger's dirty towels and toiletries in your bathroom kinda takes the zing out of "intimate."

    The strange proprietor had told us that the only food available in town was pizza (on a Saturday night! In France! I'm pretty sure this breaks multiple French laws!), but what he neglected to mention was that there was a très French patisserie just one street over. So we decided, given that we'd not had proper French desserts in a few days, to buy a box of mini pastries and have a café gourmand in our room. Dinner is served!

    Tomorrow is our final day, finishing our walk in Montpellier.
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  • Never Let Your Gard Down

    7.–8. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☁️ 81 °F

    Day 3: Vauvert- Saturargues, 24 kms
    Total kms walked: 64 kms/ 92 kms
    Kms left to Montpellier: 28 kms

    We lingered over breakfast at our guesthouse, and left a bit later than was typical. From Vauvert, we were en route to Saturargues; today's walk was slated to be the trip's longest, at 24 kms. But it was also guaranteed to (FINALLY) lead us through multiple French villages, as we exited the Gard region and the Camargue, and walked into the Herault region.

    After two hours of walking, we came upon our first village: Codognan. Upon first glance, it seemed to be a perfect little rural French town. But as we walked in, from the outer lookalike suburbs into the old city, we noticed that the suburbs held the only signs of life, and mainly as cars. The lovely old city's narrow streets were filled mainly with construction activity. Sidewalks were being improved, new but medieval-looking light fixtures were being installed, and all the old stone buildings had a fresh coast of lemony paint. We guessed that Codognan's old city had been abandoned for the suburbs decades ago, but with the resurgence of Camino tourism, they were attempting a rebirth. We'd seen this in Vauvert as well- it makes me happy to see the Camino bringing life back into these lovely villages.

    We followed the signs to the only café in Codognan, the properly French-named Café de la Place. It was on the town's main square, with a perfect French terrace and a red awning. Expecting a similar interior, I walked inside to order café au laits to discover...an extremely American biker bar, complete with the owner's giant Harley parked near the entrance. I was a bit surprised, but luckily the burly biker-owner and his friends at the bar were gracious and welcoming. So, umm, Codognan was interesting.

    A few hours later, we arrived at our lunch stop, and what felt to me like a perfect little French village: Gallargues-le-Montueux. It sat atop a hill, with the town square at the very top. The square itself was filled with small shops and outdoor cafés, and we chose a brasserie with a small but delicious-smelling menu. We ordered the daily special: Roasted camembert cheese to start, and a chicken Caesar salad as the main dish...and a pichet of local rosé, of course. We were speechless when we were EACH served an entire wheel of camembert. To me, even sharing a single wheel between two people is not the wisest decision. And when I gave up and tapped out, it looked as if I'd barely made a dent in my wheel. But then the salads arrived, in literal massive serving bowls. I luvs me a big salad, but even I couldn't eat an entire head of lettuce in a sitting. And while dessert was part of the menu (and featured my favorite French dessert, café gourmand), I was about two bites from a Mr. Creosote explosion (that's an old-school Monty Python reference), and declined. I will note that Matt somehow had the intestinal fortitude to order sorbet.

    I could barely walk upright after that delicious but ginormous meal, but we only had a few hours left to walk. All week, the weather has been cloudy and temperate in the mornings, but clearing up to thick heat and humidity in the afternoons. So at 3:30pm, as we were departing the Gard region and crossing into the Herault region in the hottest part of the day, we took a much-needed break. We had just a few kilometers left to go, and congratulated ourselves on a great day's walk. We were just about done for the day!

    The Camino markers led us onto a park trail for the final three kilometers. We assumed we'd be at our guesthouse in thirty minutes. But then the path began to climb, the dirt path became large, sharp, slick rocks, narrowing to a single file clifftop ridge, and we suddenly found ourselves Hiking with a capital H. Our clothes were soaked with sweat from the heat, the going was slow and frankly, treacherous, and I was reminded once again that the Camino is a metaphor for life: one moment you're eating a fabulous meal, and assuming the hard parts are over, and the next you're sweating up a clifftop and just hoping to get down in one piece.

    The view was pretty, though. I'm not saying I would voluntarily consent to that hike, however.

    We finally reached our guesthouse over two hours later. The owner took one look at our sweaty, dusty, exhausted selves and pointed us to the pool.

    Tomorrow we walk to Vendargues!
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  • Days of Wine and Rosés

    6.–7. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☁️ 79 °F

    Day 2: Saint-Gilles-Vauvert, 18 kms
    Total kms walked: 40 kms/ 92 kms
    Kms left to Montpellier: 52 kms

    We left our little hotel in Saint-Gilles at 8am, bought a baguette and picnic foods at one of the tiny town's two boulangeries, and headed out on our walk. Today we planned 21 kilometers to the town of Vauvert; but again, our vision of walking through quaint French villages was chucked out the window. At the Tourism Office in Saint-Gilles, we asked about cute villages to stop in to have coffees or lunch, en route to Vauvert. The nice man just shrugged and said, "The walk is just for nature. No towns." But Matt had noticed that the walk led through farms- vineyards, to be exact. So he asked if wineries were on the Via Tolosana, and the man said "of course" - we asked if the wineries did degustación, or tastings, and the man again said "of course." We helpfully pointed out that a winery could be a rest stop, so he dialed the Chateau Beaubois Winery, and booked us an 11am tasting- just in time for a picnic lunch afterwards.

    The walk was much more lovely than we expected- it led several kilometers alongside an irrigation canal and the vineyards. And after three hours of walking, just when we needed a break, Chateau Beaubois appeared. We were surprised to discover that the tasting was free- this never happens in France- and the proprietor was happy to let us taste multiple wines (she joined us for a few). We settled on a bottle of rosé to accompany our picnic lunch.

    After purchasing the wine, we asked the proprietor where might be an acceptable place for two sweaty pilgrims to have a picnic. Imagine our glee when she not only showed us to a lovely outdoor picnic area, complete with a sun canopy and a sink, but also with clean, stocked toilets. And even an adorable puppy! The Camino provides, indeed.

    We had a lovely, wine-filled picnic, then headed out for the final two hour walk to Vauvert.

    We arrived in Vauvert at 3pm, and discovered a little French village that was once adorable, but now was...not so much. Vauvert has a lovely square, a medieval quarter, and heritage Louis XIV architecture, but these places were either utterly derelict, or peopled with the types who are good 'n' drunk by 10am. Our little guesthouse was lovely, however. A young owner had purchased one of the decaying medieval homes and renovated it with an industrial chic aesthetic- think reclaimed wood and minimalist furniture. I loved it, especially the medieval Roman-style bath in the garden that he upgraded to a plunge pool.

    Dinner, however, was not so memorable. For reasons we never understood, almost every restaurant in Vauvert was closed (it's THURSDAY!). We finally gave up trying to find French cuisine, and headed to the only open restaurant- a Vietnamese café. I love Vietnamese food, and it has a lot of French influence from the colonial era... but the best thing I can say about that meal is it didn't give us e. coli. And today I learned: It is indeed possible to have a bad meal in France. Mon dieu.

    Tomorrow we walk to Saturargues!
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  • Chemin, C'mon

    5.–6. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☀️ 81 °F

    Day 1: Arles- Saint-Gilles
    Kms walked: 22 kms/ 92 kms
    Kms left to Montpellier: 70 kms

    Fun fact: in French, "camino" is "chemin," pronounced "sh'mahn." But in the Provençal dialect (which sounds weirdly like Catalan), "chemin" is pronounced "kum-MONN." So now that blog title makes a bit more sense, yes?

    At 7:30am, we made coffee in our AirBnB kitchen, applied blister tape to our feet, said good-bye to the Arles Amphitheater, and were off on the Via Tolosana.

    We had expected a day's walk through cute little French villages, stopping for pastis in tiny French bars on the way.

    This did not happen.

    Instead, the Via Tolosana led us out of Arles, and out of Provence. Sunwashed stone buildings and fields of wildflowers began to morph into the cracked gray salt flats and swamplands of the Camargue, a weird little ecosystem in the south of Provence. Here, the landscape is much more scrubby and barren, and everything is horse- or cowboy-themed. Every car zooming by us is a pickup truck driven by a French man with a massive mustache and a cowboy hat to match. But the scenery is what makes the Camargue so bizarre: Wild white horses amble along on barren salt flats, alongside, and I shit you not, WILD PINK FLAMINGOS. The Camargue is France's answer to "what if we had badlands and cowboys in France, but did it in the weirdest way possible?"

    So, suffice it to say that there were no little French cafés on our morning walk. To be clear, there wasn't much of anything, including other humans.

    By 12pm, we finally reached a town, though I am putting "town" in air quotes. We saw no cafés or shops, but passing by a small ranch we saw a sign: "Pelerin Pause" (Pilgrim Rest), alongside a Camino shell. So we walked in the gate to find a little house with a lovely shaded patio, with tables, chairs, running water, and two adorable dogs. We also met the first human we'd seen on the Camino today, a fellow pilgrim from, of all places, CALIFORNIA.

    We hadn't sat down since we left Arles, and were desperately hungry to eat our packed picnic. The sweet rancher who created this rest stop came out to greet us, asked us about our walk, and even stamped our Camino credenciales before leaving us to relax in his blissful little oasis. There's a saying: "The Camino provides," and today it provided exactly the rest stop we needed.

    We continued on a few more hours to Saint-Gilles, our stop for the day. The path led us into town by way of the Cathedral, which not only stamped our credenciales and gave us free access as a Pilgrim perk, but also presented a small exhibit about the French Caminos. Saint-Gilles is one of those tiny towns that was created in the Middle Ages just for pilgrim traffic, and hundreds of years later, they're leaning back into that history. The town's very new benches, bike racks, and bollards all feature the Camino shell symbol. Someone smells tourism money!

    After a shower and a nap, we had dinner at our hotel's restaurant, where I had an epic rare duck in mushroom sauce, and a gut-busting café gourmand for dessert. That café gourmand was almost worth that long, solitary march today.

    Tomorrow we continue on to Vauvert.
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  • Another Camino? I'm All Ears!

    4.–5. kesäk. 2024, Ranska ⋅ ☀️ 77 °F

    We couldn't stay away: we're off on our 5th Camino adventure in four years. This time, we're walking a 90 kilometer segment of the Via Tolosana, or the Arles Way, from Arles to Montpellier in the French Provençal region. The entire Via Tolosana is 800 kilometers long, running from Arles all the way to Toulouse, then into Spain, where it eventually merges with paths to Santiago. However, I am inherently lazy and do not wish to exert myself thusly. Five days of walking is plenty for this pilgrim.

    We arrived in Arles by train from Barcelona this afternoon. It's perfect Provence spring weather, and this little town is so beautiful in the bright sunlight. Arles is famous for being the French town where Van Gogh famously cut off his own ear (hence the blog title, though they say that if you have to explain the joke, you've already lost, so there's that).

    We've been to Arles once before, during Easter week in 2018, and loved the region (I do not trust people who don't like Provence, I am just saying). But the Arles we saw then was very different from today's: Our original visit was during their Easter Feria, a Spanish-themed festival featuring live bulls running through the streets. The entirety of the Old Town was given over to the feria, so we missed a lot of its quaint charm. But this time, we had the afternoon to explore the town.

    We wandered Arles's quiet, sun-dappled squares, filled with cute shops, vibrant flowers, and ancient buildings made of sun-bleached stone. It was so blissfully serene that, as someone used to the noise and chaos of the city, it made me want to curl up in a sunny spot and take a nap.

    We had one very important errand in the Old Town: We had to visit the Cathedral Saint-Trophime in Plaza République. Here, a very sweet man welcomed us as pilgrims (or "pelerins" in French), and gave us our initial Pilgrim passport stamps. Whee! The adventure begins!

    After the Cathedral, we visited the hospital that admitted van Gogh after he cut off his ear (the mental hospital he was sent to is a different place, in nearby Saint-Remy). We'd visited this quiet, tranquil cloister before; I love its peaceful garden and its steadfast refusal to be a touristy spot. Instead, visitors are asked to sit on benches in the bright flower garden and just relax in the silence.

    We stopped for a requisite glass of pastis, the Provençal licorice liqueur, at a bar in a shady plaza. I can honestly say that there are few experiences in this world as delicious as enjoying a cold glass of pastis at a sunny sidewalk café in Provence.

    Later in the evening, two friends from Marseille drove up to Arles to meet us for dinner. I hadn't seen these friends in nearly a year, so sharing a pichet of Provençal wine over dinner was an amazing way to begin our Via Tolosana adventure.

    We are staying at an AirBnB that can only be described as "astonishing ": It sits across from the ancient Roman amphitheater, and at night the lit amphitheater is almost unreal. It was like sleeping next to a green-screen background.

    Tomorrow the walk begins!
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  • Holy Toledo

    29.–30. maalisk. 2024, Espanja ⋅ ☁️ 46 °F

    We were up early to catch the 9am train from Madrid to Toledo, a short thirty-minute train ride southwest.

    Upon arriving in Toledo, we realized that Madrid was warm by comparison- apparently it had SNOWED in Toledo just a few days ago. Now, it was windy and pouring rain. I detected a slight scent of wet dog after our walk from the train station to our AirBnB.

    Unlike Segovia, Toledo is not underrated; in fact, it's extremely overtouristed, and constantly flooded with day tripping tour groups. (We too had first visited Toledo as day trippers back in 2001, and while Spain's tourism sector was quite different then, my strongest memory of Toledo was being so surprised to reach the top of Plaza Mayor...and see a McDonald's.) But during Semana Santa, it is even MORE touristed- because Toledo celebrates Good Friday with the famous Spanish KKK-like masked Easter processions. And guess what- today is Good Friday! We planned this trip well.

    Last year, we had visited Zaragoza and Logroño on Good Friday, which are two other Spanish cities with Easter processions. The Easter tourism was easier to tolerate in those towns, because not only were there more open plazas, but both of these towns are a bit off the tour group circuit. But Toledo's winding, maze-like Old Town is perched atop a hill, and accessed through medieval gates...and while this makes for a stunning city, it also creates tourist gridlock. So between the tour group congestion and the icy, pouring rain, seeing Toledo was going to be a challenge.

    We took the escalator up to the old city- yes, Toledo is so high up, with so little space for cars, that they built not one, but two massive escalators to ease tourism congestion. It plops you right atop the old city, and a short walk leads right to Plaza Mayor in the center. (And yay, that McDonald's is still there, though in 2024 it's joined by a Burger King! Ugh.)

    One thing I didn't realize during our previous short day trip is that Toledo is HUGE. While Segovia could be easily seen in a few hours, to truly see Toledo, you need days. We spent the morning walking in the rain, viewing the many medieval gates, Romain ruins, and churches. The history of Toledo is mind-blowing: It was founded in 60 BC, and became part of the Roman Empire in 200 BC, then the Visigoth capital in the 6th century AD, and then conquered by the Arabic Empire in the 8th century AD- before being conquered by the Crusaders in the Middle Ages. This is my way of saying that after a few hours, we needed a break.

    We stopped in at a tiny taberna where we ordered some Toledo specialties: Migas (stale bread crumbs mixed with jamón and topped with a runny egg), torreznos (deep fried pork belly), and pista, a shakshouka-like stew that is perfect in the cold weather. And wine. Lots of wine.

    After lunch, we attempted to see the Alcázar. I say "attempted" because after two circuits around the building, we never found the entrance. I have no explanation for this.

    Later in the afternoon, we visited the Toledo Cathedral. We had planned to go inside it, but despite their website insisting that entry was free for Semana Santa, the bouncer at the door refused to let us in without a ticket. So given that we already live a five-minute walk from our OWN Spanish Cathedral, we chucked it and instead visited the Monastery of the Conception, which has one of the prettiest cloisters in Spain. And I don't mind paying for cloisters, but one should draw the line at paying to enter a church. I am just saying.

    It was finally (somewhat) sunny by very late afternoon, so we took a lovely walk over the River Targus on the San Martín Bridge to see the view in the sunshine. However, that sunshine lasted about fifteen minutes before the rain began pelting again, so we gave up and headed back to our AirBnB.

    We knew that the Toledo Easter processions were to begin at 6pm, then restart at 11pm for the all-night procession. So we cleverly ventured back out at 8pm, the time in between all the processions when the crowds had thinned, to see the city lit up at night. However, we were surprised to realize that the entire old city was packed with spectators at 8pm, and the Easter procession was just beginning- Storm Nelson has been raging in the center and south of Spain all week, and Easter processions had been delayed (or, in the case of Sevilla, cancelled altogether. This is something that hasn't happened in decades; the penitents who march in these processions spend months preparing, tourists fly in from all over the world to view them, and the towns are dependent on this income. So the rain in Spain fell mainly on the...tourism sector).

    So with the rain stopped for the evening, and the postponed procession beginning, we wandered the city to take photos of Toledo at night. This is the reason why we didn't day-trip like most Toledo visitors; it is stunning at night, and not to be missed. The lit walls and fortresses can be seen from all over the city, and reflect onto the River Tagus below. At 11pm, after a few hours of exploring, we decided to find a place to warm up and get some snacks. We found a small bar at the far side of the city, away from the more touristed part of the old city, and filled with locals. We sat by the window and proceeded to order wine and migas. It was quite peaceful until about twenty minutes later- we were startled by the sudden, loud appearance of the procession going right by the window, about a meter from my head. And by this time of the night, most tourists had gone to bed or lost interest, but the penitents must still march until the wee hours of the morning. But I will say that there is nothing quite so jarring as enjoying a nice glass of wine late at night, only to have a KKK-like group saunter by in your peripheral vision.

    And with that, our Semana Santa adventure concludes. Tomorrow we head home on the OUIGO to spend the rest of Semana Santa in Barcelona.
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  • Here Comes Peter Frozen-Tail

    27.–29. maalisk. 2024, Espanja ⋅ 🌬 41 °F

    It's Semana Santa, or Spanish Easter weekend! And in Barcelona, everyone- and I do mean everyone- flees the city for the four-day weekend. Like Thanksgiving in the USA, Semana Santa is the biggest holiday and traffic weekend of the year. They even have names for it: The mass exodus from Barcelona is called "Operación Salida" ("Operation Exit"), and the Easter Monday returning traffic clusterfuck is called "Operación Retorno." In a city of five million people, about half a million cars leave Barcelona for the Semana Santa holiday. That's not even counting the trains and buses that zoom all over the region.

    So like any respectable Spanish resident, we took the opportunity presented by the four-day Easter weekend for a quick holiday via my beloved OUIGO train. Last Easter, we OUIGO-ed it to Zaragoza and Logroño to eat pinchos and see some really, really twisted Spanish Catholicism. This year, we OUIGO-ed to Madrid, Segovia, and Toledo.

    We arrived in Madrid around 8pm, and we realized that it is COLD here. Like, I-need-my-winter-wool-coat cold. We hurried from the train station to our AirBnB in Plaza del Sol as we got soaked by the wind and rain. WTF? Doesn't Madrid know that Easter is the start of the Spanish spring??

    We had planned to meet up with a former colleague for an old-school Madrid tapas crawl, but she had the audacity to get sick on a holiday weekend. So, the two of us spent several hours sampling tapas and wines at newer, more hipster-style tapas bars. (Note to self: I like the old-school bars better, with their ancient waiters and menus that remain unchanged after 100 years.)

    The next morning, we caught a bus from the Madrid city center ninety minutes northwest to Segovia. Segovia is famous for its Roman ruins, specifically its spectacular 1st century AD aqueduct that runs right through the center of the town. When we exited the bus station, we turned a corner to the town plaza, and the aqueduct is right there, front and center. It's pretty impressive.

    We took a walking tour around the city, and viewed their gorgeous Gothic cathedral before stopping for lunch at a small taberna (a casual bar with good wines and tapas). Segovian food is very meat-centric, and the most famous dish is roasted suckling piglet. This is not a food I would ever be interested in eating, but Segovia does have some other excellent regional specialties, including Ponche Segoviano. This is a custard-filled cake wrapped in marzipan. This I will eat. Multiple times.

    After lunch we visited Segovia's 12th century Alcázar, or fortress castle. Now, the Alcázar of Cordobá in Southern Spain gets all the attention as a "must-see" in Spain. I'd actually never heard of Segovia's. But wow, it is stunning. Like, so stunning that Walt Disney used the Alcázar of Segovia as a model for Cinderella's castle in the 1950 animated film "Cinderella." It's gorgeous and unexpected, and made me realize how very underrated Segovia is.

    Like all good medieval fortress towns, Segovia is a city on a hilltop. Our walking tour led us down the craggy cliffs to the valley below, and suddenly we found ourselves on the Camino! The Camino de Madrid, to be exact, which runs 322 kilometers from Madrid to meet up with the Camino Francés in northern Spain. I do luvs me a Camino, so this only made me love Segovia more.

    After a full, chilly day, we and our soaking wet selves caught a bus back to Madrid. After drying off and warming up, we headed back out for an old-school tapas crawl (where we proceeded to get wet and cold all over again). We managed to hit five different bars, including El Modroño, a 100-year-old bar that sells a local "strawberry tree" liqueur in edible shot glasses. I played a game of ordering a different alcohol at each bar, and aside from the strawberry tree liqueur, we also sampled Madrid vermut, house-made sweet red wine, orujo de crema (a very strong Spanish version of Bailey's), and shitty Madrid beer. The tapas weren't bad either- I discovered that artichokes pair well with strawberry tree liqueur. Who knew?

    Tomorrow we visit Toledo. The real one, not the Ohio one.
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  • Jerash-ic Parks

    2. maaliskuuta 2024, Jordan ⋅ ☀️ 72 °F

    It's our final day in Jordan, and we wanted to explore the castles and ruins north of Amman. We found a bus company that makes a daily run to the region and back, so we purchased seats for a day trip.

    We drove two hours north to see Ajloun Castle, a hilltop fortification built to drive out the Crusaders. It was interesting to visit a Muslim castle, after seeing the Christian Crusader castles of Shobak and Kerak. And color me happy to have a little minibus to drive me up that hill, so I didn't have to slog up another 500 stairs.

    Ajloun Castle is much like Kerak Castle: Seven storeys of rooms, a massive rooftop overlook, all made of cold stone and completely empty except for exhibit lighting. We spent about an hour viewing it in its entirety, and had an hour left to kill before the bus left. So we sat for an hour in a vendor's small tent in the parking lot and had tea with the many stray ginger cats.

    The bus made a quick lunch stop, where I tried a local Jordanian beer called Petra. Alcohol is not commonly served in Jordan, so I was surprised to discover that Jordan has its own beer. I was also surprised to see that it cost six dinars on the bill, which was about three times the cost of each of our salads.

    After lunch, the bus headed to the ruined city of Jerash, the finest archaeological site in Jordan. It's an extraordinarily well-preserved Greco-Roman city, first settled in 7500 B.C., and often called the "Pompeii of the Middle East." It's also huge. Like, literally the size of a small city (which, duh, is exactly what it was). I was unaware of Jerash's massive size, and when told by the bus driver that we had ninety minutes to visit, assumed this would be plenty of time.

    It was not.

    It takes a fifteen-minute walk through the massive handicraft and souvenir pavilion and several structures just to reach the ticket office. Those "structures" include a 2nd-century arch built for Emperor Hadrian- he of the famous wall- and a huge hippodrome (horse and chariot racing stadium) that holds daily races. I had assumed this was the entirety of the Jerash site until we turned a corner and arrived at the actual entrance. That's correct: Jerash is so huge, and so overfilled with archaeological riches, that Hadrian's Arch and the entire hippodrome are open and free to the public.

    Jerash is astonishing. And with just ninety minutes to view it, it's also overwhelming. The city's colonnaded streets- so pristine that you can still see CHARIOT RUTS in the flagstones- go on for over half a mile. And along that half mile is a massive Nymphaeum (decorative fountain), the Temples of Zeus and Artemis, a central 90m by 80m plaza, a cathedral, TWO amphitheaters, baths, a forum, city walls, and statuary. We of course wanted to see all of it, so we ended up running up and down MORE F*CKING STAIRS for the entire ninety-minute visit. We arrived back at the bus precisely on time, but wishing we'd had an extra hour. Jerash was definitely a highlight of this trip.

    For our final night in Jordan, we met up with a former Expedia colleague and his wife for a fantastic dinner at Sufra. Last night was elevated Levantine elegance at Fakhreldin; tonight, Sufra served Jordanian classics in a relaxed dining room, cooked to perfection. I discovered that I love fatteh, a scrumptious dish of eggplants, pistachios, tomatoes, and crispy flatbread. Faisal was so pleased that we loved the food that he insisted we go get kunafa for dessert, a bizarre cheese, wheat, and honey street food that is inexplicably considered "dessert." It's more like late-night stoner food, and after the massive Sufra meal, putting that in my stomach was not one of my wisest choices. I can sense another food hangover tomorrow.

    So this ends our Jordan adventure- we fly home tomorrow morning.
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  • Annivers-Air Jordan

    1. maaliskuuta 2024, Jordan ⋅ 🌬 64 °F

    Today is our wedding anniversary! And for the first time on this trip, we celebrated by NOT getting up before 8am.

    After a long, leisurely breakfast on our guesthouse's rooftop terrace, we spent the day exploring Amman, Jordan's capital city. It's a loud, frenetic, ancient city, with the kind of chaos that reminds me of the nonstop motion of Cairo or Ho Chi Min City in Vietnam. Beige concrete houses are crowded up the seven hillsides of Amman, modern high-rises glitter on the edges, and every building could be either built in 1940, the 11th century, or last week. I wouldn't say it's a pretty city, but it has a certain buzzy energy.

    We walked to Amman's most famous landmark, the Citadel. It's an archaeological site atop one of the seven hills (omg, I am so done with this trip's stairs and hills), and is one of the world's oldest continually inhabited places. The first people lived here during the Bronze Age, around 1800 BC. Multiple empires moved in over the millennia, and the site still contains impressive Roman and Byzantine structures. It's also pretty huge- it sprawls over the entire hill, and the Temple of Hercules and the Citadel's fortification walls can be seen from many places in Amman.

    We spent an hour or so wandering the site. It's an active archaeological dig site, and despite the multiple structures, the majority of the Citadel has yet to be excavated. So while it may look cool, there's a shit ton of work still to do. I thought this was an appropriate metaphor for a long-term marriage anniversary. In a good way, of course. Really.

    After viewing the Citadel, we walked down MORE F*CKING STAIRS cut into the hillside, to visit Amman's 2nd-century Roman amphitheater. Now, I luvs me a good amphitheater- we counted eight countries off the tops of our heads where we've traveled to see one- but rarely do you see one in such pristine condition that it houses two museums, the occasional rap concert, and also functions as a public park. We clambered up the stone steps, and sat to people-watch for an hour.

    Our next stop was the Grand Husseini Mosque, but it was shut hard for renovations. So we headed over to see the Bukhariyeh Souk (market), only to realize that with it being Friday, everything was closed (in the Muslim world, Friday is their version of Sunday). So! The final place on our itinerary was the famous Hashem restaurant. This place has been in existence since the 1940s, has no menu, no serving sizes (the waiter sizes you up, and determines an appropriate portion) and has all the ambience and decor of an abandoned garage. And yet, the falafel, hummus, pita, and salad were amazing, and somehow the bill totalled just 1.50 dinar (about €2) per person. I'm in love, and want to move in immediately.

    There wasn't much else to see on our itinerary, so we found a shisha bar overlooking the main shopping street, ordered a grape and mint sheesha, and happily puffed away like the Caterpillar from "Alice in Wonderland" for several hours.

    We had late evening reservations at Fakhreldin, a Levantine restaurant listed as one of the 50 best restaurants in the Middle East and Africa. Levantine cuisine refers to the food from the modern-day regions of Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria. It features a lot of vegetables, pita, chickpeas, nuts, grilled meats, and creamy dips. It's a veggie-lovers' paradise- the tomatoes here are the best I've had outside of Spain. Fakhreldin elevates these ingredients into fine dining, and the restaurant itself is housed in the beautiful, mansion-like former home of the Jordanian Prime Minister. It's fancy! It's our anniversary!

    We ordered grilled eggplant with pomegranate sauce and pinenuts (good, but a bit tart); pickled artichoke salad (the only dish we didn't love); chicken balls (hollow balls of chicken meat, fried and filled with butter, pistachios, and parsley. They were amazing, but given that they were listed on the menu under "goat gonads," obviously we had questions); mouhamara, which is a walnut, pomegranate, and red pepper spread that was so good I nearly ate the entire plate myself; and a mixed grill platter of chicken, lamb, and kebabs. We also ordered Jordanian wine, which I set down in my blind spot and proceeded to knock over onto the white tablecloth. Classy.

    Fakhreldin knew it was our anniversary, and brought us Arabic-style ice cream known as "booza," with a lit candle for dessert. Booza is much like Turkish ice cream- it doesn't melt because it contains mastic (a rubbery ingredient found in chewing gum), and salep, or orchid flour. If it sounds gross, you are indeed correct. In my opinion, it's an abomination against ice cream, and I only ate the pistachios on top. Though I must give props to a cuisine that uses nuts in its starters, mains, AND desserts. The squirrel in me is very pleased.

    So happy 28th anniversary to us, and tomorrow we venture up north to see more castles!
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  • Leapfrogging From the Desert to the Sea

    29. helmikuuta 2024, Jordan ⋅ ☀️ 73 °F

    Happy Leap Year!

    We awoke in our tent in the desert - I was surprised how very toasty I was under all the Bedouin blankets, even though the temperatures were near freezing last night. And the morning dawned clear and sunny, with gorgeous morning light on the canyons.

    We had breakfast in the camp, then our guide drove us out of the desert to Wadi Rum Village, where we had parked our rental car. The car was due back in Amman, the capital, at 7pm, and the drive from Wadi Rum was about four to five hours. So we decided that this was going to be a cross-country road trip.

    We drove north for two hours through more unscenic, scrubby desert. At 11am, we arrived at the ruins of Shobak Castle, a 12th century castle built by the Crusaders. We were going to just drive by and take a photo, but someone had set up a most perfect viewpoint, so we couldn't resist joining the tableau (go see the photo!).

    We got back on the road for a ninety-minute drive to Kerak Castle, another 12th century Crusader castle. Unlike Shobak, however, it was possible to explore the seven storeys of Kerak and take photos from its astonishing viewpoints. Kerak is huge- it was much larger than the castles built in Europe at that time, and includes barracks, a prison, a kitchen, a mosque and a church, tower fortifications, and an underground marketplace. I didn't expect a castle ruin to be as well presented and well-lit; Kerak Castle even had a tiny museum, where I pretended to mull the exhibits so that I could use the bathroom.

    We had parked our car in a tiny café's lot in exchange for promising to buy something when we returned. So after successfully conquering two castles, we shared some hummus, Arabic salads, and mint tea on the small terrace.

    By now, it was past 1pm, and we drove another hour over a mountain pass to the lowest place on the planet- the Dead Sea. At 430 meters/1412 feet below sea level, it's an astonishing place. And after seeing purely desert landscapes since our arrival, the stunning blue of the Dead Sea as we crested the mountain pass was a welcome change.

    We were told that we could buy a day pass at a fancy-pants Dead Sea resort for about €50 each, or we could go to the public beach for about €20, which includes showers and locker room access. But we discovered there is another option- many locals create their own "beach park," with a free car park and access the beach, with the expectation that you will buy a (ice cold tank) shower and a beverage afterwards at a MacGyver-like setup. This was our obvious choice, as I adore both "cheap" and locals who creatively exploit the tourism economy for their own benefit.

    The Dead Sea is so called because of its 34% salinity level, which is nine and a half times the saltiness of the ocean. You physically can't swim in it because the salt makes you so buoyant that you can only float on top of it. And it is impossible to sink. So as a swimmer, this was definitely something I wanted to experience. We parked the car, scrambled down the gravel cliffside, and found ourselves on a weird, white, deserted rock-salt beach.

    Given the cold, icy-breeze morning, we hadn't expected it to be warm enough to enter the water. But at 3pm, the temperature had skyrocketed to 23 C°/75F°, so this was now a Real Beach Day. So we took off our shoes and coverups, and left our bag on a lone bench.

    Taking our shoes off was a mistake. The hardened salt beach and surf floor was dried into pointy, painful spikes, and walking out into the water punctured our feet and hands...and the sea literally poured salt in our wounds. But when we got far enough out to float, I'm not gonna lie...it was fabulous. The water was as warm as bathwater, the sky was a cerulean blue, and we just floated. No arm stroke or kick was needed- it felt like I had an inflatable swim ring underneath myself. But the salty water began to itch and sting after a few minutes, so we walked back over the painful spikes to the beach, where we proceeded to bleed onto our PackTowls.

    We hiked back up the gravel path, and enjoyed a cup of mint tea while we stared at the sea. If it weren't for the thick, stiff salt crust drying on our skin and swimsuits, we could have been in Barcelona. (Although we'd probably be drinking wine instead of this tea nonsense.) And Matt assured me that chefs use salt crusts to tenderize and preserve the juiciness of meat, so I expect to be quite flavorful and tender tomorrow.

    We got back on the road at 4:30pm, and began the winding, switchbacked drive up to Mount Nebo. Mount Nebo is mentioned in the Old Testament; this is where, after dragging the Israelites around the desert, Moses finally saw New Canaan, or the Promised Land. According to the legend, God let Moses SEE the Promised Land, but wouldn't let him actually GO there, because Moses hurt God's little feelings and apparently the Old Testament God is a petty b*tch (I'm paraphrasing here). Moses died soon after, and his grave was never found- though it's assumed to be on the other side of the sea, in Israel. (Also: You can see Israel from here!) Today, there's a Musa Museum (Moses is called "Musa" in Jordan) atop Mount Nebo, with a fabulous view over the Dead Sea, and parts of Israel and Palestine. Given that Moses is revered as a prophet in all three Abrahamic religions (Judiasm, Islam, and Christianity), it's quite an elaborate, beautiful museum and park.

    It also closes at 5pm, and we didn't arrive until 5:15pm. So much like Moses, we were allowed to SEE the Promised Land Museum, we just weren't allowed to ENTER the museum. We decided that this was a more authentic experience, took a few photos, and left.

    We returned our rental car, hailed an Uber to Amman's city center, and after checking into our hotel, attempted to shower the desert dust and sand and Dead Sea salt off our filthy selves.
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  • Strange Bed(ouin) Fellows

    28. helmikuuta 2024, Jordan ⋅ ☀️ 64 °F

    After breakfast, we left Wadi Musa at 9am and drove two hours farther south to the desert region of Wadi Rum. (And yes, everything is called "Wadi" here because it means "Valley" in Jordanian Arabic.)

    Most people are familiar with this region, just thirty minutes from the Saudi Arabian border, from the classic film "Lawrence of Arabia." Those real-life events occurred here, and the movie was filmed here as well. Now, the Wadi Rum desert is a protected area, and visitors come here to spend a night or two with the Bedouin tribes, sleeping in tents, and seeing the desert by 4x4.

    We arrived at Wadi Rum Village at the edge of the desert at 11am, and met up with our Bedouin host. He put our bag in the truck, and we rode on a bench in the open truck bed. We spent the next four hours exploring and climbing up the different sites in the desert, including the rubble remains of Lawrence of Arabia's home, sand dunes, and several famous rock formations. I learned a few things:

    1. Desert wind in an exposed open truck bed in the winter is fucking freezing.
    2. All rock formations in the desert look exactly the same to me.
    3. If I have to endure sand in my eyes, nose, and mouth, there better be an ocean in front of me.
    4. There is no ocean in the desert.

    Luckily, our drive took place during the warmest part of the day, so when the truck DID stop, it was a gorgeous day to climb on some rocks. Until the wind blew more sand up my nose.

    We arrived at our Bedouin camp in the late afternoon, where we chilled in our tent and admired the stunning view of the desert. At 6pm we walked out to a promontory to watch the sun set over the red rocks. The last time we visited a desert, Egypt's White Desert, the white of the sand reflected the moonlight, and it wasn't very dark at night. Here, darkness is absolute, and not just a little disconcerting. Our very cool guide pointed us to the sunset promontory, a ten-minute walk in a straight line, and warned us not to get lost on the way back. We laughed at this "joke" until we realized he was absolutely not joking. We then mused on how many idiot tourists got lost and wandered in the desert for forty days and forty nights, and decided that would make a really good story. (Biblical joke)

    The Bedouins made a traditional dinner for the camp, featuring zarb (roasted meat that is buried and roasted in the sand), and several types of dips and salads. I really like the food here- they offer lots of vegetables, including an "Arabian salad" that is like pico de gallo without cilantro or spice; chickpea salads and hummus; baba ganouj; and soft mild cheeses and yogurts. I will admit to being at maximum falafel tolerance, so when the wind ripped our small bag of lunch falafel out of Matt's hand and far into the desert, I wasn't too disappointed. Hungry, yes, but in consolation, I had a tub of halva hidden in my bag. Don't judge me.

    So did you know that without lights, internet, or bars, there isn't much to do after the sun sets? After dinner, we sat around the fire drinking tea and listening to some truly awful Bedouin music, but by 9:30pm, we seized the opportunity to head back to our tent early, and read in bed while eating halva straight from the tub.

    Tomorrow we drive all the way back up to Amman, while attempting to see as many things along the way as possible before the rental company wants their car back.
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  • Petra-fied

    27. helmikuuta 2024, Jordan ⋅ ⛅ 55 °F

    Today was our adventure in the Petra Archaeological Park.
    Was it amazing? Hells yes. And to give you an idea of just how amazing today was, there are three things I hate: Being cold, climbing stairs, and hiking...and I willingly did all three today, and Petra was worth all three.

    We were up at 5:45am (correction, FOUR things I hate), and at the Petra Park entrance at 7am. The sun was just rising on a clear, cold morning, the moon was still fully visible, and we had the entire place to ourselves.

    I had envisioned Petra much like the Pyramids of Gaza in Cairo: You show up, pay your fee, walk in, and boom! There they are.

    Petra is nothing like that.

    As you enter the Park, there is a modern visitors' center; a short walk downhill leads to the main entrance. Once you enter, there is a 1 kilometer/.75 mile gravel road winding downhill, past temples and ruins; then you come to the Siq, the gorgeous pathway snaking between the tall canyons. At 7am, the canyon walls were red, pink, orange, and purple, and absolutely silent (AND COLD). The Siq path continues for 1.5 kilometers/1 mile, and then, in a real-life Indiana Jones moment, the canyon opens to reveal the Treasury- the famous symbol of Petra. It is simply breathtaking.

    There were so few people at the Treasury that it felt like a private visit. We got some amazing photos- depending on the weather and time of day, the rocks look very different. We were absurdly lucky to have a clear, sunny day as our backdrop.

    We continued on past the Treasury, and the site opened into a massive space, called the Street of Façades. Petra's 2000-year-old stone structures were originally massive tombs- they are carved into all the rock walls in this area. Though as the "Façade" name suggests, you can't actually go inside them.

    We explored the Royal Tombs, a set of four massive tombs atop a steep stone staircase. One of the tombs, the Silk Tomb, had rock striations running up the columns in bright rainbow colors. I've never seen anything like it.

    We continued walking to the end of the main path, about 4 kilometers/2.5 miles from the main entrance, and embarked on the Ad-Deir, or Monastery, Trail. This trail is about 1.5 kilometers/1 mile straight up a stone staircase: 800 stairs, to be precise. We were warned that this trail is hard, but possibly the most impressive site in the park. At the top is the Monastery, a tomb that is similar to the Treasury, but on a wide-open hilltop, rather than in a narrow canyon.

    The walk up was spectacular. We were again the only people, aside from the Bedouins who live and sell tea and souvenirs in the canyons. And the morning went from I'm-wearing-thermals-cold to T-shirts-warm (though I'm sure that stair climb helped to warm us up). We reached the Monastery in about an hour, and found an amazing viewpoint to relax and savor our private view.

    After an hour or so, we began the walk back down. We stopped to have tea with a Bedouin woman and her daughter, and to play with the many kittens frolicking around the staircase. By the time we reached the bottom, back on the Street of Façades, we were starving. Luckily, we had packed a lunch from little shops near our hotel: Fresh pita, soft cheese, falafel, apples, and a tub of halvah. We had ourselves a little picnic in front of the Petra amphitheater.

    (Side note: If you don't know what halvah is, I suggest you go find some right now. I love nuts and creamy desserts, and halvah is like peanut butter nougat, filled with nuts. I eat it by the forkful, straight from the container. But I also eat Nutella out of the jar, so maybe don't follow my example.)

    Later in the afternoon, we decided we were full of Petra and tombs and staircases and halvah, and began the three-mile slog all the way back uphill to the park exit. As we exited, we saw a sign at the fancy-pants park hotel adjacent to the gates that this exact moment was happy hour. Two things: One, Jordan is Muslim, so alcohol is hard to come by, and two, if any moment in time screamed "you earned a beer," this was it. That is my way of saying we hustled inside that hotel bar and toasted our 15.5 kilometer/10.5 mile Petra hiking adventure with truly vile white wine.

    And then we went back to our hotel for very long naps.
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  • Crossing Jordan

    25.–26. helmik. 2024, Jordan ⋅ 🌙 46 °F

    Greetings from Jordan! This week is our wedding anniversary, and for the first time since 2020, we are celebrating in a new country- Jordan.
    If you're not familiar with Jordan, it's a Middle Eastern country bordered by Israel to the west, Syria and Iraq to the north and east, and Saudi Arabia to the south. It's a fun neighborhood, but Jordan is stable, peaceful, and prosperous monarchy- it's even home to the world's fifth strongest currency. And being a trivia nerd, I will also add that Jordan contains the lowest point on earth- the Dead Sea, at 420 meters/1260 feet below sea level- and is the only country named for a river. And it's #82 in my leetle country collection.

    We're here to see one of the great wonders of the world: Petra, the fabulous ancient city from the 1st century BC. It was the capital of the Nabataean Empire until it was abandoned after a 4th century AD earthquake. Most people became familiar with Petra from 1989's "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," where it was featured as the Valley of the Crescent Moon where Indiana receives the Holy Grail from the ancient knight. For me, Jordan never really registered as a destination until Expedia opened a tech hub here in 2018, and I began hearing from my colleagues about the amazing place I was missing (I was never able to join a business trip here, despite my best efforts).

    We arrived in Jordan last night by an unfortunate group of fours: A four-hour flight, four hours of sleep, then a four-hour drive. Our original flight was supposed to depart at 3:30pm, but was moved to 5:15pm...then 6pm...and finally 7:30pm. Jordan is two hours ahead of Barcelona, so we landed in Amman, the capital, at 1:30am, picked up our rental car, and checked into our hotel at 3am. And at 7am, we were back up for the four-hour drive south to Wadi Musa, the home of Petra and many other ancient sites.

    A four-hour drive through Jordan sounds like an exciting journey. I assure you it was not. The Desert Highway is straight, wide, and plows right through scrubby, barren desert. The only interesting thing to see was the three, count 'em three, times the cops pulled us over (routine security checks due to the war in Israel). But after four hours, we arrived at our destination: Siq Al-Barid, or Little Petra.

    Petra Archaeological Park is a massive, 102-square-mile site. That seemed a bit overwhelming to begin our Jordan adventure, so we decided to warm up with a visit to Little Petra first. It's a tiny version of Petra- just 450 meters/1350 feet long. It was built in the 1st century as a Nabataean suburb, and contains shockingly intact remains of rich residents' homes. Little Petra was excavated in the late 20th century, and as recently 2010, archaeologists discovered the only known Nabataean ceiling frescoes in existence. It's also the ignored sibling of Big Petra, so we had it all to ourselves.

    We spent an hour viewing the red stone façades and marveling at the canyon. Petra looks shockingly like Arizona, with its multicolored, deep gorges, and red rock. If you'd told me that I was at the Grand Canyon, I'd believe you. On a clear sunny day, the views and light quality were breathtaking.

    At the back of the site, we climbed up a steep set of stone stairs, cut into the canyon, that led to a Bedouin tribe's tea house. It overlooked Little Petra, and we sat and enjoyed our tea with the Bedouin owner and his cats as we stared out over the endless canyons.

    It began to get very cold- those canyons are like giant refrigerators- so we left Little Petra and drove fifteen minutes to the town of Wadi Musa, a village on the edge of the Petra Archaeological Park. After stopping for hummus and shisk tawook at a small restaurant next to the Petra Visitor's Center, we wandered into the Petra complex to scout for our big adventure tomorrow.

    Can I just say: Petra is HUGE.

    Tomorrow we will conquer it!
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  • Northern Night Lights

    30. joulukuuta 2023, Liettua ⋅ 🌧 37 °F

    In Lithuania, it gets dark around 3pm in winter. And like many northern European cities, Vilnius really ramps up the hygge, or winter coziness, with its lights, decorations, and food.

    We had read that Lithuania, much like Estonia, is experiencing a local food revolution. Rather than heavy, bland Russian foods that have been a staple since the Russian occupations, Lithuania is bringing back its culinary traditions, including game and "forest foods." Last night we had reservations at one of Vilnius's most well-known of these restaurants, LOKYS, in the old Jewish quarter. It's located in a 15th-century Gothic cellar, and specializes in game meats.

    I ordered the duck confit with potatoes (because everything has potatoes in Lithuania, I am just saying) and Matt ordered boar with cheese croquettes. I wouldn't say that Lithuanian food is light, but it is delicious and warming on a winter night. What I particularly loved was the wine list: "hot mulled wine" was not an after-dinner treat, but rather a serving option of their house wine! This, in a nutshell, is how cold winter can be in Lithuania.

    After dinner, we strolled the Christmas market, which is far lovelier in the dark than in the daytime. And unlike our Barcelona Christmas market, Vilnius's market sold hot mulled wine and gingerbread...though Santa AND Christmas music were strangely isolated on a different side of the Cathedral. I did not get to see me sum Santa. Fail!

    We walked through the tiny Old Town to view the buildings at night- in the dark with its Christmas lighting, Vilnius feels like a completely different city. We visited Vilnius's famous Gate of Dawn and Basilian Monastery Gate, which are gorgeous at night. The Gate of Dawn is the only remaining medieval gate to the Old Town, and one of the symbols of Vilnius. It's also a major site of pilgrimage for Lithuanians, who visit to view the icon of Mary inside the gate's upstairs chapel. We were quite surprised to note a Camino de Santiago shell on the gate, and discovered via Google that we were standing on the "Camino Lituano." A bit more research revealed that this Camino was created in 2016 by Camino enthusiasts in Lithuania...and has no connection whatsoever with the Camino de Santiago. It's a 500 kilometer walk through Lithuania, with no endpoint at the Cathedral of Santiago. People! One does not simply co-opt the Camino de Santiago. I am just saying. That is anarchy.

    The following day was our final morning in Lithuania. We lingered at the breakfast buffet at our hotel, and took a short walk in the Old Town as a final goodbye before our afternoon flight. Given the chill and drizzly rain, we wisely opted to leave for the airport early and enjoy Lithuanian sparkling wine in the departure lounge. Happy New Year!
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  • Baroque and Cold

    29. joulukuuta 2023, Liettua ⋅ 🌧 39 °F

    We spent a chilly day exploring Vilnius's Old Town. While the day was dark and gray, Vilnius really knows how to brighten up and decorate for Christmas.

    Vilnius is a lovely city filled with pastel-colored churches and façades in the Baroque Vilnius style, all set by the River Neris. It's tiny enough that you can see all the highlights on foot in a single day. So, challenge accepted!

    We started our walk through the city by climbing up to Gediminas Tower Hill, one of the symbols of Vilnius. This tower is the lone remaining part of the 13th century fortress. One climbs up there to see the fantastic views, and apparently get very cold.

    Beneath Gediminas Hill, on Cathedral Square, is where the main city's sights are, including the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Lithuania, the Vilnius Cathedral, and the city's Christmas market. The 13th century Palace has been rebuilt multiple times over the past 700 years, most recently after Russia flattened it in the 19th century. Now, it's a gorgeously restored museum of Lithuanian and palace history.

    But it's also a LOT. This museum includes 4 routes, each with hundreds of displays, separate wings, and an exhausting load of history. I'm just saying, I'M ON VACATION, cut a girl a break.

    We walked through Vilnius Cathedral, which I can confidently say has taken the most...bold design decisions of any European cathedral I've ever seen. The Cathedral itself looks like a Greek theater, with a belltower that sits out front like an abandoned 19th century lighthouse. It is odd.

    We strolled the Christmas market and viewed the Christmas tree, which is a very big deal in Vilnius. The city holds design competitions and presents the final tree in a grand tree lighting ceremony. Seeing past years' trees online makes me think perhaps 2023 was a bit phoned in, but you do you, Vilnius.

    We viewed several other churches in the old town. Lithuania was the last pagan European country to adopt Christianity, but they wow did they commit when they finally converted in 1387. In a city of just 600,000, there are 52 churches. Vilnius was also a major Jewish center with over 260,000 Jews in the early 20th century. However, Lithuania suffered the greatest loss of Jews during the Holocaust- only 5% of the population survived, and never recovered. The ghettos are now a lovely medieval neighborhood filled with shops and restaurants, but with a large interactive display explaining the tragedy.

    By 3pm it was already getting dark, so when we stumbled upon a cat café in the Old Town, we decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon among kitties and mulled wine.
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  • Vilifying Myself

    28.–30. jouluk. 2023, Liettua ⋅ ☁️ 37 °F

    Merry post-Christmas from a place that feels like winter- Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. Lithuania is one of the three small Baltic states in Northern Europe, along with Latvia and Estonia.

    Why would I leave the Mediterranean in December to freeze in Lithuania? Because not only is Lithuania the one Baltic state I've not visited, but it's also the only EU nation that was missing from my (now-completed) list of EU countries visited. (For the trivial-minded amongst us, there are 27 total EU countries.) That is an eminently reasonable justification, though I'm certainly not saying I'd do it twice.

    We arrived near midnight, and while Vilnius is famous for its Christmas decorations, everything was just dark and cold...which I suppose is befitting a country with Russia both to the east AND the west. (This is true! There is a tiny, isolated chunk of Russia sitting to the west, nestled between Lithuania and Poland. Cozy!)

    Our grand hotel off the city square was a bit less grand in person- most architecture here is "Vilnian Baroque," a brightly colored, ornate Hapsburgian style, but our hotel was more "Elegance Circa 1983." And if it's not Vilnian Baroque, don't fix it. (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)

    But we're only here for a day and a half- long enough to see the Old City and try some Lithuanian food- so we're looking forward to seeing this place in the daylight tomorrow!
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  • Unorthodox Un-Christmas

    8. joulukuuta 2023, Serbia ⋅ ☁️ 32 °F

    Our flight was scheduled to depart at 7:30pm in the evening tonight. Given that we had seen most of Belgrade's sights yesterday, we slept a bit later this morning, then strolled down Knez Mihailova, Belgrade's main pedestrian shopping street.

    We were a bit confused as to why there were so few Christmas decorations on this promenade- after all, one of the reasons for coming to Serbia, aside from getting country #80 on my passport, was to see Belgrade's Christmas decorations and Christmas markets. I love Christmas markets! The magical mix of chalets, mulled wine, Santa, and Christmas music is enough to make me tolerate winter. For a few hours, at least.

    So imagine our disappointment to discover that Serbia's Orthodox Church celebrates Christmas not on December 25, but on January 7- and the Christmas markets don't get set up for another week.

    Well poop.

    We did find one "Christmas market" on Knez Mihailova, however. I use quotation marks because the "market" was in front of a US-style shopping center, and 100% sponsored by Coca-Cola, in what I can only describe as the least Serbian Christmas experience possible. But the "market" did offer the only outdoor Christmas tree on display (though to be clear, the tree was FAKE), so we took a quick selfie with Santa and the tree, and quickly departed.

    Last night we had a Serbian dinner at the modern, elegant Iva New Balkan Cuisine; today we had reservations for a very old-school Serbian dining experience. Dva Jelena ("Two Deer"), located on Belgrade's famous Skadarlija Street, has been serving hearty, heavy Serbian game dishes since 1832. Over the decades, celebrities from Jimmy Carter to Jaime Oliver to Margaret Thatcher have dined here.

    Dva Jelena's dark, wood-paneled interior resembles a hunting lodge, and its formal, tuxedo'ed waiters appear to have been working there for a VERY long time. We were seated in the center of the restaurant, and given heavy leather-bound menus.

    To start, we ordered cheese-stuffed red peppers and pork cracklings with cornbread, alongside a jug of red Serbian wine. For our main lunch dishes, we were told to order Serbian game; Matt ordered srneći gulaš (venison goulash), and I opted for pileći medaljoni (cheese and ham-stuffed chicken, rolled in bacon).

    To be clear, this was neither "elevated" nor "light" cuisine. But all of it was fantastic- simply but perfectly prepared.

    For dessert, we split a pita sa višnjama (sour cherry strudel) with glasses of rakija, Balkan fruit brandy that is better referred to as "possibly toxic firewater."

    Our lunch lasted well over two hours, which left us just enough time to catch the 4pm bus to Nikola Tesla Airport for our 7:30pm flight home. The joke was on us, though, because within five minutes of boarding the airport bus, WizzAir helpfully texted me of yet another hourlong delay. (Which eventually became a two-hour delay. Thanks, WizzAir.)

    So that was our 48 hours in Serbia, and passport stamp #80! #81 is coming very soon...
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  • Serbia, Not Siberia

    6.–7. jouluk. 2023, Serbia ⋅ ☁️ 32 °F

    In Spain, December 6th AND 8th are both national holidays. So if it's a good year, both the 6th and the 8th land on weekdays, giving you two days off of work. And because no one will bother to show up for work on the 7th, essentially the "December bridge," as it's known, is a 3-day holiday.

    And 2023 is a good year!

    We decided to spend the December bridge in a new country- but given that we only have three days, the closest new country is...Serbia! Now, we've been to five of the seven former Yugoslavian countries (Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, and North Macedonia), but we've not been to Kosovo or Serbia. I hadn't made Kosovo a priority because it's just a city-state, like Monaco or Singapore, and difficult to get to. But why not Serbia? After chatting with a friend from Serbia, I realized I'd not prioritized it because I assumed it would be unbearably cold.

    My friend helpfully pointed out that I'd confused SERBIA with SIBERIA. Oops. My bad. Time to rectify my error- with a 48-hour jaunt to Belgrade, the capital of Serbia!

    Our flight was scheduled to depart at 10:30pm Wednesday evening, arriving at 1am in Belgrade. The only cheap airline that flies Barcelona-Belgrade is a truly shitty Hungarian airline called, and I shit you not, WizzAir (as in, "Time to take a Wizz!"). So color us NOT surprised when, at 8pm, we were alerted to an hourlong flight delay. But we decided to leave for the airport at the originally planned time- because you never know, right?

    So imagine our surprise to arrive at BCN Airport at 9pm, and read on the departures board that our gate was ALREADY CLOSED. So we panic-ran through the airport, to the deserted security checkpoint, through the empty concourse, through the empty immigration checkpoint, to the gate. Whereupon an utterly confused WizzAir agent finally figured out that they'd confused flight numbers on the departure board, and our milelong airport sprint had been unnecessary. Because guess what, the flight was delayed an hour.

    Thanks, WizzAir.

    Anyway.

    We landed in Belgrade at 2am, caught a taxi to our teeny AirBnB right off the main pedestrian shopping street, and finally went to bed at 3am.

    The next morning, we set out to explore Belgrade. This city is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world; it was settled by the Vinča cultures before the 6th century BC! Over the centuries it was conquered by the Celts, the Romans, the Slavs, and the Byzantine, Ottoman, and Austro-Hungarian Empires. World War I began here when Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Apparently, over the millennia, this city has been involved in 15 wars and sacked 44 times.

    And yet, I knew very little about it other than it's NOT Siberia. Wow.

    We explored Belgrade with a four-kilometer walk. Our first stop was the Temple of Saint Sava, named for the founder of Serbia's Serbian Orthodox Church. Supposedly his coffin was burned here in the 16th century, and thus the Serbs built this church over his grave. But due to architectural disagreements, bureacracy, and several world wars, the first stone wasn't laid until 1935. Construction was paused due to Soviet occupation, and didn't resume until the 1980s; this Eastern Orthodox church, the largest in Europe, wasn't even consecrated until 2020, and the dome wasn't completed until two years ago.

    (I feel as if Serbia wants to compete with Barcelona's Sagrada Familia for the title of "Longest Running Construction Project on Earth.")

    Modeled after Istanbul's Hagia Sofia mosque, the church is shockingly enormous inside. I'm not gonna lie- I was not expecting that massive space.

    Our walk continued to St. Mark's Church- not to be confused with St. Mark's Cathedral nearby- a stunning Byzantine church in a lovely park.

    Our next stop was the Nikola Tesla Museum. Tesla (not just a car company run by a sociopath!) is Serbia's most famous son (Belgrade's airport is named Nikola Tesla International), and this museum contains both his most famous inventions and his grave. While I had every intention of visiting the museum, because Tesla was fucking AWESOME, the museum itself was not awesome. In fact, it was still adhering to 2020-era pandemic restrictions that only allowed twenty people to enter at a time, on the hour, while everyone else had to stand outside and freeze our asses off. So we said fuck it, and left.

    Oh, did I mention it's FREEZING here? Well, it is. Despite being nearly as far south as Barcelona, Serbia's landlocked position makes for frigid winters. And I don't like to stand outside in them. Even for Nikola Tesla.

    Our final stop was the Belgrade Fortress, once the entirety of the city when it was built in the 3rd century BC. Now, it stands in the city's Kalemegdan Park, overlooking the Danube, and is the most-visited site in Serbia. It's also very, very cold in the winter atop its 125 meter/412 foot-high cliff, so we bought some hot mulled wine from a vendor to keep warm during our (very brief) visit.

    In the evening, we had reservations at the Michelin-listed Iva New Balkan Cuisine. Yes, that's right- Belgrade has some serious food action going on. There are no fewer than seventeen Michelin starred- or listed-restaurants in Belgrade. Classic Serbian cuisine is known for heavy Eastern European-style food, but younger chefs are focusing on the same ingredients, but with a bit more finesse than a hunk of meat plopped on a plate.

    Our dinner reservation at Iva was shockingly early for Spanish residents: 6pm (or, "Spanish late lunchtime"). But the gray, oppressive light quality and darkness in Belgrade is so similar to Seattle's and London's that it felt like the middle of the night to us. And dinner was fantastic, so I will forgive this dining sin.

    We started with coupes of Serbian sparkling wine (yes, Serbia makes sparkling wine, who knew), roasted local cheese, and local chicken liver pâté. For dinner, Matt ordered pork belly, and I ordered a chicken cutlet with pumpkin butter and potatoes. Dessert was very Serbian, but with an elevated twist: Sour plums in vanilla cream with plum essence gnocchi, stuffed with sweet Serbian cheese. I would say I liked this, but I am not gonna lie. I will say: Some things are Just Not Dessert. Hrrmph.

    After our epic dinner, we searched in vain for a cozy bar, but were unable to find one that wasn't chock full o' smokers- yes indeed, in 2023 Serbia stills allows indoor smoking- so we headed back to our cozy AirBnB.
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  • Tune-Town

    17.–19. syysk. 2023, Tunisia ⋅ ☀️ 99 °F

    Today was our final day in Tunisia- our flight departs at 8pm, so we had an entire day to explore the capital city.

    Our day began with yet another amazing breakfast in our gorgeous dar. Tunisia is known for its hospitality, and it definitely shows in their homemade breakfast feasts: Omelets, cheeses, smoothies, fresh fruit, pastries, spreads...Also, I realize that I seem like one of those douchebags who sits at the bar and eats the cherries and orange slices directly out of the bartender's garnish tray, but I admit to eating the halva directly from the condiment dish (halva is a chunky, sweetened sesame and tahini spread that I refer to as "Tunisian peanut butter"). I can't stop myself.

    Anyway.

    Our day's first stop was at Tunis's world-renowned Bardo Museum. First off, I will say that we never expected to visit this incredible museum, which is home to some of the world's most intact Roman and Carthaginian mosaics, housed in an 18th century Pacha's palace (a Pacha is second in command to the Bey, or king). Back in 2021, the Tunisian President staged a despotic coup, and sealed the Parliament building and rewrote the constitution...and the Bardo is unlucky enough to be located inside the Parliament building. (Colorfully, local media describes the closure as "maintenance related." How very...Fox-Newsy of them.)

    But weirdly, the day before we arrived in Tunis, the museum suddenly reopened. When our dar hosts told us, we were stunned at the timing, given that long-awaited reopenings tend to happen JUST AFTER we depart (the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, the L'Orangerie in Paris, virtually every basilica in Sicily...).

    The Bardo Museum is two massive floors of ancient mosaics (ground floor) and a palace museum (top floor). There are SO MANY mosaics, and they are all so huge and in excellent condition, that "amazing fatigue" set in pretty quickly. It's an embarrassment of riches, to be sure.

    The top floor's palace museum was much more my jam. The lushly painted ceilings and tile work were simply gorgeous, and unlike other Tunisian rooms we've viewed.

    After our morning o' culture, we explored Tunis's New Town. Tunisia was colonized by the French in 1881, and the French designed the "New Town" with a très Parisian influence: Graceful, tree-lined boulevards, European architecture, and sidewalk cafés. The new town boulevard ends at the medina, and so we decided to wander the medina for a few hours. We quickly realized Tunis's medina was FAR huger than any other medina we've visited on this trip; it's so twisty and labyrinthine, that I began to wonder if I needed Theseus's ball of yarn to find my way out.

    And yes, I realize I have made a Greek mythological reference when everything here is Roman, but in my defense, everything I know about myths was gleaned from Disney's Junior Woodchuck Guidebook comics. (sadly this is true)

    By late afternoon it was over 100°F/38°C, so we had planned to escape the heat with a long, luxurious lunch at the medina's fancy-pants Dar Jeld, one of Tunis's most elegant cafés. However, for reasons that eluded us in this very Muslim country, EVERYTHING CLOSES ON SUNDAYS. So we found a cooler spot in the medina and enjoyed lunch, some mint tea, playing with the café kitties, and our final shisha (water pipe) before heading to the airport. And I'm happy to report that enduring the douchy vaping trend of the last few years has not diminished the simple pleasure of a medina café shisha.

    So this concludes our Tunisian adventure; between the Roman ruins, the café culture, the beaches, and the people, I can't recommend this country highly enough! I will miss the insanely cheap prices, the legions of kitties, and mint tea (but probably not the hell-hot, dusty heat).
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  • Dougga Or Dougga Not, There Is No Try

    16. syyskuuta 2023, Tunisia ⋅ ☀️ 91 °F

    Yesterday, we had intended to take a train from Sousse to Tunis, the capital of Tunisia. However, upon arrival at the Sousse train station, we were told that the only train of the day was an hour late (insert big unhelpful shrug here); there didn't seem to be a ton of confidence in its timely arrival, or even its arrival at all (insert more shruggies). So we said screw the train, and got on a louage to Tunis.

    Our louage driver was quite motivated to reach Tunis, and managed to make the two-hour trip in just 80 minutes. This is what happens when one goes 95 mph and does not ever, for any reason, apply the brakes.

    We checked into Dar Ben Gacem Kahia in Tunis, considered one of the top five dars in the entire country. It goes without saying that the Joneses do not generally find themselves in such fine accommodations, and upon seeing our opulent room, immediately began to wonder if they'd allow our common, louage-riding selves to stay. We'll see.

    For our final full day in Tunisia, we intended to visit Dougga, one of the finest sites of Roman ruins in North Africa. Dougga is an entire Roman city, covering nearly a full square kilometer, and includes a Roman Forum, temples, an amphitheater, boulevards, monuments, and homes. The site sits atop a hill, overlooking a small Tunisia town.

    We weren't certain we wanted to make this trek, which requires a taxi to the louage station, a 90-minute louage ride to the small town outside Dougga, then another taxi to take you the rest of the way to the site, wait for you to explore, then do it all again in reverse. Normally this would be an annoyance, but not an obstacle. But today, the temperature was about 102°F/39°C, and not only are those louages un-airconditioned, the Dougga site sits on a huge, dry, dusty, hell-hot hill.

    We decided that Indiana Jones wouldn't let a bit of heatstroke stop him, so we packed lots of water, hats, slathered on the sunblock, and set out in the early morning.

    We arrived at 10:30am, and like every other site in Tunisia, we had it all to ourselves (with the exception of a kitten who followed us everywhere). It is truly spectacular- the temple overlooks the entire site, and almost feels Disney-fied in its perfection. Some part of me believes that some bored, rich dude built this in 1945 or so, and people took it seriously as a site of antiquity.

    Dougga (or Thugga, as it was known) was built around the 4th century B.C. (note: this is earlier than 1945), by a Berber society. They merged with the Punic Carthaginians, and then with the Romans, and as a result, Dougga is one of the only places on earth that showcases all three cultures in one place. The main viewable buildings are a temple (with its etchings still very clearly visible), the forum, the town homes, the amphitheater, and several smaller ruins scattered around the hillside. All were utterly deserted during our visit, so obviously we managed some amazing photos.

    (Haven't you always wanted to sing on a massive Roman amphitheater stage? You know you do. And the acoustics are astonishing- even without walls, any word quietly spoken on the stage sounds as clear as if someone is sitting next to you.)

    After several hot, dusty hours, our taxi driver picked us up and returned us to the louage station, and we headed back to Tunis. Upon arrival, we celebrated our successful hell-hot adventure with a massive late lunch at L'Ali, a fabulous Tunisian bistro in the medina. Despite our sweaty, smelly selves and dusty clothes (our shirts even had white salt stains from all the sweat), we were still welcomed into their fancy-pants linen tablecloth dining room. We had a feast of Tunisian salads, brik, chicken tagine, and lamb with apricots. I don't think I've ever been so happy to drink lemonade in an air-conditioned room.

    Tomorrow we explore Tunis before our evening flight home.
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  • 3 Louages, 2 Cities, & Indiana Jones

    14. syyskuuta 2023, Tunisia ⋅ ⛅ 84 °F

    Given that we spent yesterday in a state of beachy hedonism, we (and by "we" I mean "I") felt compelled to explore a bit more...aggressively today.

    We plotted a route that seemed entirely plausible, using louages, taxis, and a bus, which would allow us to see Kairouan, 90 minutes west of Sousse (and yesterday's intended destination before the beach sucked us in), and the seaside town of Monastir, just 30 minutes south.

    We got started early, and caught an 8:30am taxi to the louage station, and a 9am louage to Kairouan. At 10:30am, we arrived in Kairouan, the fourth most important city in Islam. One visit to Kairouan counts as 1/7 of a pilgrimage to Mecca.

    The main reason to visit Kairouan is to see The Great Mosque, the oldest and most important mosque in North Africa. I was told that if I'm interested in history and architecture (which I am, duh) Kairouan and its 7th century mosque were not to be missed.

    But honestly: As I'm not at all religious, and the mosque is a massively barren space, there wasn't much to see or connect with (though they do have some adorable kittens). To me, the Great Mosque of Kairouan is one of those places that shouldn't be missed, but yet never feels quite worth the effort to get there (Blarney Castle, Madrid's Prado Museum, and the entirety of Berlin are also in this file).

    The other major site of Kairouan is its entire medina. It's huge and sprawling, and filled with the café and shopping energy that is so missing in Sousse. We spent a few hours wandering the streets, having mint tea in cafés, browsing the souk (outdoor shopping vendors), and seeing its gorgeous architecture. We visited the Zaouia (shrine) of Sidi Abed, one of the world's finest examples of Arabic tiling, and Maison du Gouveneur (Governor's House), a nondescript doorway that opens into a former governor's stunning 18-room house (to house his 4 wives and 24 children, of course). It's gorgeous, but it's also a fucking carpet shop now, so there's that.

    We walked through the medina to the Mosque of the Three Doors, and the area felt...familiar. And it indeed is. In 1980, this street was used as a stand-in for Cairo in "Raiders of the Lost Ark," including that famous scene when a man threatens Indiana with fancy sword work, and in response, Indiana just shoots him.

    After mint tea at a café near the mosque, we set out to catch the 2pm bus to Monastir. The buses looked...a bit rough, and we had an hourlong wait in the stuffy, sweaty bus station. On a whim, we walked over to the louage station, despite being told repeatedly that no louages run between Kairouan and Monastir. So imagine our glee to discover that there actually was one, and it was leaving in five minutes. And for just 8 dinar (€2.75)!

    Monastir is a lovely seaside town, famous for its 8th century Rabat- it's even more famous than Sousse's rabat because it was used as the castle for Monty Python's "Life Of Brian." It's utterly stunning, sitting on a hill overlooking the sea, surrounded by palm trees. (Though Sousse's rabat walls were used in the film as a stand-in for Jerusalem.)

    We visited the 1963 tomb of Habib Bourguiba, Tunisia's first president post-French independence. It was...interesting. It's insanely opulent, with a massive chandelier hanging from a huge domed cupola, over his marble tomb. It's weirder when you discover that this guy DIDN'T EVEN DIE UNTIL 2000, so apparently he was responsible for this understated design.

    After a marathon seven hours of exploring through two cities, two filming locations, two medinas, and multiple mosques, we caught a louage back to Sousse for well-earned naps. Indiana Jones would be proud.

    Tomorrow we head to Tunis!
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  • She Tells Sea-Tales by the Sousse Shore

    13.–17. syysk. 2023, Tunisia ⋅ ☀️ 95 °F

    Today we had planned to take a louage one hour inland to Kairouan, to see Tunisia's famous 7th century Great Mosque of Kairouan. For Muslims, visiting this mosque counts as a hajj to Mecca- it's that important.

    We, umm, never made it.

    In my defense...we'd spent all day yesterday in the dry, dusty, hell-hot sun visiting El Jem, including two hours round-trip in an un-airconditioned louage. And when the weather is so hot and sunny, and the Mediterranean Sea is so blue and inviting, one can't be expected to resist its siren call.

    So we spent an entire glorious day on Sousse's Bou Jafaar Beach, reveling in an utterly perfect beach day (claras included). And it gave me time to reflect on our Tunisian adventure, as we approach the halfway mark of our trip.

    So far, Tunisia has utterly confounded my expectations. In Sidi Bou Said, I was startled to realize that the town was so similar to Santorini in Greece- so much so that I would forget I was in Tunisia. From the blue and whitewashed buildings, to the endless cats sunbathing in the streets, to the café culture...this region seemed more Greek Island than Africa. (Well, until I saw the prices. Santorini ain't gonna sell me a tea for €1, unless it's 1978.)

    In Hammamet, I was surprised by how prosperous and Mediterranean the town felt. Granted, it was made for (European) tourism, but it felt more like a Spanish seaside town than North African. I wasn't expecting an elegant dar with a rainforest shower, a rooftop pool, and air conditioning, for barely €50 per night. It almost felt like a Disney-fied representation of Tunisia.

    Ironically, given that Hammamet and Sidi Bou Said were more Western than I expected, I was then surprised that Sousse was exactly what I'd assumed a Tunisian city to be...but somehow fulfilling my original expectation was not at all expected. (Was that confusing? Apologies, my mind has been blown.)

    The medinas have been not at all what I expected either. I had envisioned an old town that buzzed with activity from early morning to late at night. But even though many residents live within the medina's walls, the coffeehouse and tourist nightclub culture happens far outside the walls. I'm not gonna lie, the medina's utter emptiness at night is really disconcerting. It feels like Barcelona's Gothic Quarter in the midst of the pandemic. If given another choice, I wouldn't stay within the medina's walls (though the legions of stray cats are adorbs).

    The people of Tunisia have been a welcome surprise. Unlike Egypt or Morocco, where I felt like both a zoo animal and a walking ATM, Tunisian people have been warm, friendly, helpful, and respectful (well, except that one asshole grocery clerk in Sidi Bou Said who tried to jack me out of 5 dinar, assuming I didn't understand their fucked-up coinage- but I called him on it, so he doesn't count) (also, fuck that guy). But even the touts and vendors in the souk have been low-key and chill, with very little of the nonstop "madam madam you come buy I have best price" nonsense that makes me stabby. It's refreshingly unexpected.

    The food has been a bit of a surprise as well. I had expected that alcohol wouldn't be readily available- and granted, most restaurants and shops don't sell it- but discovering Tunisia's not-half-bad rosés has been a bit of a shocker. And while shakshouka and chickpeas are nowhere to be found, we have discovered bamboulini: A giant ring of fried dough, coated in sugar, that is Tunisia's answer to the doughnut. And bamboulini is even sold by random guys on the beach, the way one can buy beer from sketchy dudes on Barcelona's beaches.

    So, thus far midway into our first new country post-COVID, I'm remembering the fun of discovering the inside workings of another culture, and seeing and experiencing new things for the first time. It's kind of fun.

    Tomorrow we head to the seaside town of Monastir. This time we're really going, I promise.
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  • An Archaeological Jem

    12. syyskuuta 2023, Tunisia ⋅ ☀️ 86 °F

    After breakfast at our private dar (it appears we are the only guests of the entire 3-storey, 4-bedroom dar), we caught a louage one hour south to Tunisia's most visited site: The amphitheater of El Jem.

    The Amphitheater of El Jem is simply astonishing. Built in the 2nd century AD, it's the largest Roman building still standing in Africa, and the third largest Roman amphitheater on earth, after Rome's Colosseum and the Capua Amphitheater in Catania, Sicily. But unlike the great Roman ruins of Italy, the Amphitheater of El Jem is...utterly empty.

    The Amphitheater of El Jem sits, quite nonchalantly, at the end of the El Jem's main street. In fact, if you weren't visiting this small town specifically to see this ancient wonder, you might be surprised to see this hulking amphitheater in the midst of an ordinary, tiny Tunisian town.

    El Jem's amphitheater is stunning for many reasons, the most obvious being its sheer size. At its peak, it held 30,000 to 50,000 spectators, and rose to a level of 40 meters (120 feet) with three levels of seating, each level containing thirty arches. Only two-thirds of the outer wall and arches remain, but that doesn't make it any less ginormous.

    Unlike Rome's Colosseum, with its hordes of tour groups and pre-reserved ticketing system, El Jem is utterly devoid of tourists. During the current high season, we saw maybe twenty other tourists the entire afternoon. And because there are so few visitors, we were allowed to walk everywhere, including the arched hallways, the amphitheater seating, the floor of the arena itself, and the underground tunnels where tigers and other wild animals were caged alongside gladiators and prisoners before their bloody battles. Walking these tunnels, it was impossible not to think: What must those condemned prisoners have been feeling as they walked through these tunnels to the arena, to certain death by tiger mauling? While thousands of spectators gleefully watch?

    Matt, on the other hand, wondered if it was OK to run out into the empty arena and yell "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?" (apparently this is a "Gladiator" film reference. The movie was filmed elsewhere, but its arena was based on El Jem's.) (And yes, I felt this to be perfectly acceptable,)

    It took about 45 minutes to walk through the entire amphitheater and take photos. But our interest in El Jem's Roman history was piqued enough to make the fifteen-minute walk across town to see El Jem's Archaeological Museum (also, the museum entrance was included in our 12 dinar/€4 amphitheater ticket, and the Joneses do require full monetization of one's admission). We weren't expecting much, but to our surprise we found a lovely Tunisian home, with airy arcades and rooms, filled with mosaics from the town's excavations- even with English explanations. The back of the museum was the "Africa House" excavation, fully in situ. Rather than digging up artifacts and presenting them in a museum setting, instead the house and small town beyond it was left as-is, so visitors can walk the "streets" and fully experience the ancient town's layout. I loved it.

    We intended to view another in situ Roman home excavation, but I got distracted by a Tunisian patisserie and we completely forgot. In my defense, NUTELLA BAKLAVA.

    After our explorations, we stopped for a mint tea at a small café. The café was located directly behind the Amphitheater, so I can confidently say that it was the finest view I've ever had with my tea. (The few local men drinking tea in the café could not have cared less, however; it's just another day in a small town, I suppose).

    We took a louage back to Sousse, and spent the remainder of the evening on our dar's rooftop, reading and drinking Tunisian wine.

    Side note: While Tunisia has pretty good rosé wine, I cannot say the same for its whites. Just saying.
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