Now that we are home, people are asking us about our favourite place, house, event, memory, meal.
We saw so much, and experienced so much in the six months of travel that the question is impossible to answer in a single word or a phrase.
Every day brought something unique, interesting or tasty: historical sights, beautiful chateaux, manor houses, amazing cathedrals, scenery beyond describing, natural wonders, exquisite food, outstanding wine, friendly, helpful people.
So here I go with some categories.
Most emotional:
Without question the war memorials, museums and cemetaries. Our hearts broke over the sheer numbers of graves. In Belgium and Normandy farmyards were battlefields and became grave yards…like Flanders Fields. Many small community graveyards have signs indicating they contain war graves.
The Canadian memorials — Brooding Soldier, and Hill 62 touched us. The In Flanders Fields interactive museum in Ypres, housed in a now-restored building nearly destroyed by bombing in WWII left us speechless. And on this side of the Atlantic, visiting the 9-ll memorial in New York, and especially the church close to Ground Zero where victims went through triage, which then became a place of respite for the first responders brought us to tears. Boston’s Holocaust memorial near the Faneuil Market was starkly poignant.
(Note: One of my crafty e-newsletters contained a link to an Australian memorial honouring Australian sacrifices at Galipoli. I am barely over my Dieppe rage, now the rage has risen phoenix like from this article: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-04-13/the-gallipoli-letter-tapestry-finished-after-2500-hour-weave/6389204?et_mid=743955&rid=241183112.)
Most ostentatious grave:
Napoleon’s. No question, no comparison. (I’m sure places such as the Taj Mahal are more glorious, but i haven’t been there so it doesn’t count. For this purpose anyway)
Amazing scenery:
Everywhere we went. Alsace with its beautiful hilled vineyards and amazing timbered houses. Burgundy with its rolling hills, river valleys, forests, and vineyards. Amsterdam with its canals and lovely old “dancing lady” houses, Bruges with its amazing architecture, beautiful old buildings, canals, and lace. Tuscany and Provence with the beautiful-in-any-weather Mediterranean, and the amazing perched villages. This could get boring, if it isn’t already, so i’ll stop now.
Best food:
Again everywhere we went. The foie gras (I know it’s not politically correct to like foie gras, but I have seen how those ducks and geese are raised and no one who eats eggs, or chicken raised on most North American farms can raise their eyebrows at foie gras.) We had gourmet meals in Michelin starred restaurants, peasant meals at local spots, and picnics and not a day passed when we didn’t have amazing food at some point in the day.
And because I know what side my bread is buttered on, (and because I always tell the truth) I will add that the meals Ken prepared were right up there in the splendid categary. This is no easy task when you are not altogether sure you have translated the package label properly on grocery day, so you are not really sure what that meat is, or what part of the animal it is from if you DO happen to know WHAT animal it is from. But the amazing fresh food you buy in local markets makes for delicious meals.
The good meals started in North America with amazing seafood feasts in Boston’s Legal Seafood restaurant and continued in Ponty Bistro in New York. Then there was the street market meal we ate standing in a square a few blocks from our rented Brownstone where we ate pulled pork and ribs with our fingers, then had to go home and have a shower to clean up. Boy it was good.
Many of our outstanding meals were on the water. Food on the Queen Mary 2 was at best forgettable, thankfully it was much better on the Queen Elizabeth. None of the Cunard meals could compare to the dinner cruise meals we ate in several cities. The all-you-can-eat shrimp meal in Stockholm was exactly that. All you can eat shrimp. The bowls were bottomless and exclusively shrimp. The jewel dinner cruise in Amsterdam was a gourmet feast. I don’t recall what we ate, but it was amazing. Then our favourite and traditional Calif dinner cruise in Paris.
We ate an amazing moules (mussels) meal in Bruges’ Spinola restaurant run by Sam and Vicky Storme De Baets. That was a fine meal, concluding with hand-made chocolates accompanied by the drama of watching our hosts show Russian guests the door and refuse entry to a couple of Americans who wanted only dessert.
We had an amazing meal fit for royal carnivores at the Risorante da Remo in Monteriggioni, a small hilled village near Sienna. Vegetarians steer clear. There wasn’t a vegetable in sight. I had ribs, Ken had a meat platter with beef and pork ribs, filet, boar, a local sausage and I forget what else, but it would have fed a family of four for a week. And it was lunch. Ken still talks about it with awe in his voice and gluttony on his mind.
Our Paris meals were amazing, from the Christmas market mulled wine (consumed as we walked down the Champs Élysées — how civilized) and bratwurst, to the foie gras restaurant meals. We had an amazing picnic at the foot of la Tour Eiffel, purchased at a local bakery. One dessert deserves special mention. It was a pear, cored, poached in something deliciously alcoholic, then drizzled with a decadent chocolate. It has to be my favourite dessert of all time. Given I have 68 years of experience and dessert is my favourite thing to eat, that’s going some.
Best park:
Amsterdam’s Vondel Park was wonderful. We sat in the sun watching birds and people, and listened as a man hidden from our view played the most amazing classical guitar. But then there’s Stockholm’s Skagen Park, which is an outdoor museum, along the lines of Fort Edmonton Park or the Ukrainian Village, only older. I watched artisans weave cloth on a several-hundred-years-old hand-made loom, and blow glass ornaments following an age-old process and tradition. In a different vein are Copenhagen’s Tivoli Gardens, and Paris’ Luxembourg Gardens where we picnic every time we go to that city.
We ate breakfast in the Public Garden every morning we were in Boston, watching the swans, the swan boat and people. The flowers were beyond describing. It was a lovely, serene way to begin a day. The colours and the scents were amazing. Boston Common (oldest park in the US) gave us many pleasant hours too. The Shaw memorial, referred to in some of my literature research as the finest piece of work to come out of the Civil War, memorializes the first free black (all volunteers) regiment in the Union army, and its leader Colonel Shaw. He and 32 of his men died in the assault on Fort Wagner in South Carolina in 1863.
We did the iconic carriage ride in New York’s Central Park, visiting the John Lennon memorial, then eating hot dogs and pretzels. The memorial was touching. The hot dogs and pretzels, well, let’s leave it at the reality didn’t live up to the hype.
Best accommodation:
By my calculations, we slept in 31 beds while we were away. That represents a lot of houses, all remarkable in one way or another, and I can’t possibly mention them all. Our tiny apartment in Stockholm was notable for its basement bedroom that looked like a cave, and the killer stairs we had to descend and ascend daily. It was right smack in the middle of the oldest part of the city and opened the door to walking everywhere, which we did. Our Amsterdam apartment had a beautiful view out over the flower market and canal and like our Stockholm apartment was right in the middle of town. We walked to it from the train station, and walked everywhere.
Our Provence home was amazing with incredible views of both the Mediterranean and the hills from all its many windows, but especially its rooftop terrace. Our Italian house was a beautiful old millhouse sitting astride a stream that tumbled down the hillside to the nearby town. In another season we could have had some lovely country walks, but it was boar hunting season, and the most frequently heard sound was gun fire, so walking wasn’t a safe option.
Our Burgundy home was set in bucolic splendour, surrounded by fields, vineyards, gently rolling hills and forests. It was a lovely house, situated on a river bank in a small town, so country walks were easy, boar hunting season hadn’t started so the walks were possible. The house came complete with a piano and all sorts of probably antique sheet music. The owner considered the piano a big draw. It would have been if either of us played the piano. We attended Remembrance Day services here, so it was especially memorable.
Our Alsace apartment was in an amazing timbered house, and surrounded by the hills and vales of Alsace and had some of the best scenery of the trip (yes, I loved Alsace).
But our Bruges house was our favourite house. It was charming and comfortable, beautifully maintained and kept, with a well equipped kitchen, secure parking and all the conveniences of home. We could walk to the grocery store, and to the city’s many attractions (think French Fry and Chocolate museums). And we were within driving distance of all the places we wanted to visit. The owner’s husband was a landscape architect, so the grounds were glorious and I could easily imagine them in summer when the flowers were blooming. I sound like their website. Sorry.
Our Bruges house is also the site of one of my favourite story with the joke on me. The front door entry area of this lovely home was large enough to hang our coats in and not much else, but it did contain a man’s bust on a pedestal. The man’s head was adult person high and just the right resting spot for Ken’s hat. I love to draw sketches of the places we stay and I like some amount of scale in the drawings. Of course I would never do anything efficient like carry a tape measure, so I pace the rooms then figure out the size of the house. Ken had gone to bed — and I usually do my pacing out when he is in bed because, well, because. So Ken is in bed, and I carefully paced out the front of the house. Living room, about 17 feet long, wall almost two feet thick, dining room nine feet across, front door entry, eight feet.
Picture me, head down, heal toe-ing across the front of the house. Living room is lit, dining room and entry are lit by light from the living room. Finished, I turned and to my horror there’s a man standing right in front of me. I nearly collapsed. Then realized it was the bust wearing Ken’s hat. I laughed with relief, but it was a weak laugh, and I didn’t finish my pace-measure of the house until the next day.
Favourite architecture:
My photo library will tell you that my favourite architecture was the timbered houses in Alsace. I took a picture of every house in Ribeauville (where we stayed). Then just to be sure, I took a second picture of my favourites….which were almost every house I laid eyes on.
We then went down the road to the next town, where I took photos of every house in that town too. It was like the first time you go to the mountains and you just snap away. And with digital photos, you can take thousands. Don’t worry, I won’t make you look at them all. I will if you insist, and I’m sure if you do, you’ll agree…..the houses are stunning.
Every road through the parts of France and Italy we were in goes past beautiful chateaux and manor houses, stunning churches in towns so small they aren’t on any maps. We toured through several of these, including Chateau Bazoches (Vauban’s chateau) which rated a separate piece.
The Auxerres clock tower is a thing of wonder. Built in the 15th century, it still runs on the original mechanisms. It’s an amazing clock. One of the two hands is a solar hand (goes around the clock in 24 hours) and the second is a lunar hand, so the clock tells in one glimpse the time and the moon phase. The hands are together at midday of a new moon, and at midnight at a full moon. It amazed me.
Chateau du Haut Koenigsbourg, is perched in the clouds, a kilometre high on the crest of a hill. It’s a 12th century fortress destroyed during the Thirty Years’ War, then restored to its 15th century glory in the early 1900s by Wilhelm II, Emperor of Germany who built a train station in a nearby town especially so he could visit during construction. (Another case of an interfering Royal, think back to the Swedish ship, the Vasa). Comes complete with dungeons, canons and drawbridges as well as a medieval garden which identified all the plants and their uses whether herbal, medicinal, or deodorizing.
The Abbaye de Fontenay was pretty amazing too. Stark by European Cathedral standards the abbaye was consecrated in 1147 and is the oldest preserved Cistercian abbey in the world. It’s starkness reflects the belief that nothing should distract from worship. The forge at the Abbaye was built around 1220, was the first metallurgical factory in Europe and the place of the invention of the hydraulic hammer which became the industrial basis of all iron manufacturing in Europe. The water wheel still goes round and round.
Best one-offs:
Don’t know quite else how to categorize these events. How can you compare going to a baseball game in Fenway Park with any other event of this trip. The evening just doesn’t fit into a nice little box. From the “et Voila” man helping us get our subway ticket, to watching hot dogs and money get passed up and down the stands, and seeing the vendors actually throw the bags of peanuts, to say nothing of seeing a Major League Baseball game in person, well,words fail.
And a Broadway play. Where does that fit? We saw Kinky boots on our way home with cousin Sheena. We walked through a wintry New York and gorged ourself on the amazing music, dancing and costumes of this play. What an experience.
Best un-bought purchases:
Fountain pens, everywhere i looked fountain pens. The Pen Hospital in New York had an amazing horn fountain pen that I coveted. And every city after that had at least one pen store that i drooled over. More than the Cartier windows, the fountain pen store windows drew me in and tempted me. (Cartier does have some amazing, bejewelled fountain pens I might add). But the most tempting of all was the horn pen.
Our trip was a feast. Every sense went into overload. Both of us took thousands of photos which we are still sorting out. I can’t bear to throw any of them out. That blurred photo I’ll never show anyone is northern Ontario taken through the window of a moving train. I know I will never get back there. And bad though it is, it evokes a memory. I have other blurred photos taken through the window of our moving car — stopping for this or that breath-taking photo op would have been life-threatening. The Firenze duomo was impossible to photograph in one shot. No one could. It’s completely surrounded by buildings, so it took maybe 30 photos to record its splendor. And the Christmas decorations in Nice were spectacular, and some of them moved and changed colour so how can you choose one photo.
I couldn’t …it’s an impossible task. As impossible as choosing my favourite sensory experience on this trip of a lifetime.
But…. having said all that, coming “home” to Dornoch and our family for Christmas puts icing on the cake.
