Flipped a coin - Scotland it is!

We have an infant at home, our first child, and it's taken a toll on us both, as all infants tend to do. Derek surprised me at our 10 year anniversary dinner with a unique 'daily specials' menu tucked in my larger menu - a list of places I could choose to go at the end of August, complete with full time childcare (courtesy of himself) and my best friend's commitment to be my companion!

Not saying no to that!

So, Michelle and I got to planning. Our eyes being always bigger than our stomachs, we struggled to narrow down the place to go. We're both fairly easy going in this regard, so decision making came down to a coin toss, which Derek administered, where Scotland won out over Bulgaria.

We determined to focus on three key elements of the country - whiskey, the highlands, and solid time exploring Edinburgh.

Jungfraujoch, the Eiger, and Bern

Our last day in Switzerland isn't bittersweet - it's just bitter. Do I love my home, my pets, my job? Sure! Would I leave fountains of flowing cheese, smooth, sweet chocolates, towering mountains and crazy town-folk in masks or carrying giant cowbells for it all? Um, not gladly, after less than a week, no.

Today isn't overcast, so we're going to take a swing at seeing the famous Eiger, and its lovely, massive neighbors, Jungfrau and Mönch. Once again stuffing ourselves with a delightful European breakfast overseen by a charming red-headed Kiwi, we worked through our train plan while we still had wifi access and stashed our things at the front desk. It was cold, but we were wide awake and ready to make our way to the so-called 'Top of Europe.'

We caught a bus to connect to the train headed for Lauterbrunnen, and transferred there to the train headed for Kleine Scheidegg, right at the base of the Eiger. The ride up is quite slow, but very beautiful as it climbs through the high hills past skiers and cottages, with beautiful views of the valley and waterfalls coming off of nearby rock faces, which are everywhere. This is where you might realize, like we did, that your train ticket for everywhere in Switzerland doesn't apply here, and you might vomit at the price (see the tip below), but have to pay it anyway.

At Kleine Scheidegg, after taking a few breathtaking photos of the Eiger, you transfer to the cog-wheel Jungfrau train on tracks that run almost entirely through the mountains of Mönch and the Eiger, bound for Europe's highest train station at Jungfraujoch. The train stops twice along the way, with a 5 minute interlude at the Eismeer station, where a glass window opens up your view to the mountains and ragged ice outside.

The tunnel itself is an incredibly impressive feat of human ingenuity and sheer will. Conceived and executed by industrialist Adolf Guyer-Zeller, his hand-written drawings of the plans from 1894 are carved into the station in their Alpine Sensation section. The work concluded in 1912, and all the workers are celebrated for their contribution to this amazing feat of engineering, using their pick axes and wheeled carts. It's really unbelievable to think about.

Travel Tip: The whole trip takes just under 2.5 hours each way from Interlaken, so plan accordingly. You should buy your train ticket in Lauterbrunnen - even with the Swiss Travel Pass, you only get a 25% discount on the ticket, and you do need a separate ticket. No one is more thorough at checking tickets than the Swiss, and rightly so - this pass on the train costs a whopping $180 francs per person before the discount. And if that's too rich for your blood, there's no other way up, so find another activity to do. Once you're on the train, like we were, you're stuck - just hand over your credit card and remember that this is vacation, and you hate your money or you wouldn't be in this expensive country.

And then we stopped, finally at Europe's highest rail station at 11,332 feet up. Jungfraujoch is situated on a glacier between Mönch and Jungfrau, and the visitor's center that is part of the station is substantial. Derek and I did manage to find two doors leading outside, though the winds were very strong and terribly cold, and we couldn't stay out for long. Another section was closed off entirely due to massive falling icicles. Poles have slivers of ice in rows that have formed from any precipitation that has flown by.

Inside, we enjoyed a trip though the Alpine Sensation, where a moving walkway showed photos and exhibits about the railroad and its formation, and was introduced by some very unique, and somewhat odd, Swiss art pieces, including a massive snow globe with animated inner workings. Then we visited the Ice Palace, carved out of the glacier itself, where exhibits were carved showing various animals,  like bears, penguins and eagles, and an ice tunnel connecting them managed to make me claustrophobic, if only for a moment. Then we popped into the Lindt Swiss Chocolate Heaven shop, where they had little props set up like a chocolate kitchen, and creepy full sized mannequins that looked a little too real for comfort directing you around each corner. They gave out free samples - I'll tolerate a lot of creepy things for free chocolate.

We ate at Crystal restaurant (finally! A real restaurant that's not closed off to us at the top of a mountain!) where I finally got to try the last Swiss dish on my list - Rösti! It was originally a breakfast dish eaten by farmers, but this shredded potato pancake held together only by lots of butter and its own starch was covered in cheese, ham, green onion and an over easy egg. I shared, don't worry. My heart couldn't take all that butter on in one sitting so I shared the burden with Derek. We had hot chocolates and pretzel bread rolls and just loved every minute of sitting at that table, looking out on the overly bright landscape and wiping our lips with their bright orange napkins.

And so ended our time at the peak. We caught the train down (there is a line, so make sure you account for that if there are many people up there with you) and Derek rushed off to get pictures of the Eiger during our 10 minute wait (it was delayed even longer, so we had some time), and on the train down, we realized the windows open, so we opened it up to finally get pictures without glare, reflection or dirt in the way of the lens. The heaters are under the seats, so we stripped off most of our warm clothes on the way down. At Lauterbrunnen again, we stopped in the same little shop from the other day to get some chocolates before heading back.

We did a bit of shopping in Interlaken, picking up our country's one souvenir (we decided on a big cow bell, given we had seen them in use with our own eyes, and couldn't afford a watch) and a snowflake ornament carved from wood. We picked up our things and headed to the train station for Bern, where we decided we'd stop for dinner - one last hurrah before giving in to the inevitability of our airport hotel.

In Bern, we struggled to navigate their train station, but eventually found a very helpful SBB agent (her English was excellent - she'd randomly spent a year in Iowa) to help us store our luggage, then grabbed the bus to Barenpark, a literal bear enclosure next to Nydeggbrucke. Bears are the city's symbol and have lived here since 1513. Unfortunately, since it was late, they were all tucked in for the night, so we popped in the restaurant next to the enclosure for ice cream and beer. We caught the bus back to the Zytglogge, a stunning astronomical clock tower that has also served as a guard tower and prison since it was erected in the 15th century. It's beautiful colors and shapes are very eye catching, even in the dark, and below its archway are a few really interesting paintings.

We walked back along the medieval arcades (6 km in all!) to shop, but all of the shops were closed. Of course they are! Who would want to buy anything on a Friday night at 8 pm?! We stumbled on city hall and an ice rink, lit up with multicolored lights. Unfortunately, it was too dark to really explore Old Town or see the river, but the city was very easy to navigate, and we grabbed dinner at the train station before grabbing our things and disembarking for our Interlaken hotel.

Pretty exhausted from our day, when we arrived at the station and worked out our bus route, our bus disappeared without a trace, causing great frustration (it never arrived, or if it did, it was an invisible bus, which, although very cool, did not work out for us) and we grabbed a taxi to our hotel.

Travel tip: There are no such things in Switzerland as reasonably priced taxis. It's the fastest way to light your money on fire. That, and apparently ordering water in Zurich.

Thus concludes our journey through this fabulous country! We loved it, and can't wait to visit in the spring or summer to experience it in a whole new way. Yes, it's worth visiting, so pack your bags and just go for it!

The (Accidental) Train to Montreux and the Matterhorn

This morning is finally clear, our first in days, so we were up early having breakfast at our hotel (well, I did, anyway). Derek had seen the top of the Eiger from our hotel's patio and was outside shooting pics and video until his fingers went numb. Don't worry, the 7 lb bucket of Nutella lured him back inside.

We hopped on a train heading to Zermatt where the Matterhorn is, noting that if we have only one day to view the summit, we'd rather see it than the Eiger, but when we got on the waiting train and it pulled away earlier than it should, we realized we'd gotten on the wrong one. Two stops later, we disembarked, grabbing the correct one right behind it, but when we got off at the end of the line, we were surprised to find that we were nowhere near Zermatt - we were supposed to have transferred much earlier, and I hadn't marked it when we'd had wifi.

Travel Tip: Switzerland's wifi is not awesome. When they have it, which is actually fairly often, they make you register your phone number nearly every time, and will text you a code to get on. The problem is, if you don't have an international phone plan, you can't GET the text they send you, so you end up SOL. If you're desperate, as I was, just have your company pay for your phone plan and use your roaming to get critical info before you end up literally going to France on accident.

The conductor we'd asked about it mentioned that we'd have to travel all the way back, or thanks to the fact that we had unlimited train use passes, we could get on the special Golden Pass line with the others heading to Montreux, and transfer there. We had already gone nearly 2 hours out of the way, so with little time to decide, we hopped on the Golden Pass. Thank goodness for low expectations and flexible planning! It was a nice day to see the country, and the train stuck to the beautiful countryside and still-green hills, climbing into the mountains. We decended on Montreaux, an incredibly beautiful traditional resort town right on Lake Geneva, complete with its own medieval island castle, Château de Chillon, right offshore.

Unfortunately, we had a short stopover, which we spent in a lovely little cafe at the station, once again indulging in Switzerland's finest cold milk and pastries before boarding the train heading east again. This second leg was less beautiful (it was no Golden Pass line, I'll tell you that), but it went through the agricultural areas where they grow grapes, apples, apricots and grains among other things. We spotted some sheep, but no cows, which was slightly disappointing given how much dairy comes out of this country. I may have shed some tears in my distress that we'd gone 4 full hours out of our way in the end, finally reaching Zermatt right before sunset and risking our opportunity to see it in the light.

But then there we were, finally, boarding a slow train (Europe's highest cogwheel railway) up the mountain from Zermatt to Gornergrat, a peak overlooking the Matterhorn. This was the second place we had to pay for our train tickets, but we received a discount with our rail passes. There are two ways to ascend and see the peak, with the other being Matterhorn Glacier Paradise, but that one is a hike into town and more expensive, so given our time constraints, we went with this one and were not disappointed.

Because it's a cogwheel railway system, our ascent was slow, which would have been lovely if not for our 4 hour delay on the train. Derek was getting antsy as the sun got lower, nearly jumping out of his seat in anticipating of not sitting on a train any longer. We could see the massive peak from the moment we got off in Zermatt, and as we got closer to it, had beautiful views from the train of the peak itself, back lit by the sun, and the skiers who were enjoying their day on the mountain.

When we arrived, it was absolutely frigid - our fingers were going numb as we fiddled with our video camera and phones for pictures, running around and fumbling as we tried to capture the view before things became too dark. Derek ran to the top of the lookout to do a time lapse, and it was so cold that we thought the poor device would just shut itself down. Even as warmly as we were dressed wasn't really adequate, and we gawked at skiers who must only be alive thanks to their constant movement.

Inside, we attempted to grab dinner at the Restaurant vis-à-vis, but were turned away because we weren't hotel guests and it was after 4 pm - this doesn't appear to be advertised in any official capacity, as their website says they have open dining until 8 pm and the train down runs much later than 4, so I don't know what it is with the Swiss and their close-the-door-in-your-face mentality with restaurants. Just take my money! And yes, before ranting I did say that there is a hotel on the top of this peak too, so we're going to have to come back and stay on the TOP of these epic mountains next time.

We grabbed a snack in the self service cafeteria, then realizing it was truly getting dark, decided to grab the train down, only to realize we'd missed it by a literal minute and had to wait another hour to descend. This is the part where I failed myself and got emotional at all the missteps I'd made in planning that day, and the part where my husband is equally awesome, pointing out all of the positive things we got to see and do, and reminding me that even your second choice in Switzerland is pretty freaking fabulous. So what if we had to stare at the Matterhorn in the waning twilight a little longer? Oh darn! Ok, he had a point.

At this point, of course, the self service cafeteria had also closed (and didn't even have full meal options when we came in at 4 anyway), so once we were finally down, we hurried to the Coop grocery store at the base (they're everywhere) to grab "dinner" for the trip home. We ate our bircher museli, banana, bread and milk on the packed train filled with skiers returning from their day. There were a surprising number of kids, all carrying their own gear, and none of whom ever complained that I heard. It's really nice, frankly, to not hear all the chatting in English, because you can completely zone it out, and Derek was soon asleep. Three transfers and a very expensive taxi ride later (buses apparently stopped running by 8 to our part of town...just insane for a high-traffic tourist area), to get our things and transfer to our new hotel, Hotel Post-Hardermannli, because rooms were full at our previous one. Beausite had held our bags all day for us and graciously called Post-Hardermannli to ensure we could still check in after 9, since it was barely past that time and they list a cut off (what you're supposed to do after the cutoff isn't clear at all).

We were rushed through the check in process by a man who was smoking outside when we arrived and in the blink of an eye, we were in bed, trying to keep our eyes open for 5 minutes to minimally plan our last day, which would, weather permitting, allow us to see the Eiger up close and personally.

Interlaken and the Harder Potschete festival, Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald

Lucerne was amazing, but in a country this size, we can't sit still for long, so we're heading for Interlaken today!

We ate breakfast at our fantastic hotel (expensive, but totally worth it!), with the most luscious eggs imaginable - you could taste the butter in every little ounce. I fumbled an entire loaf of bread on the floor - so embarrassing - and we ate our weight in bircher muesli. Invented by a Swiss doctor, these rolled oats are soaked overnight and are added to lemon juice, condensed milk, grated apples and grated nuts. It's amazing.

Before checking out, we ran across the river to visit the cathedral opposite our room, Jesuitenkirche, which was very quiet and very empty. It was very tastefully done with incredible molding and rose colored marble. I've noticed here when you enter certain buildings, there are heavy curtains just inside the door, probably to keep out cold air and noise, but it does initially hit you that maybe you've not gone in the right place, so that caused some hesitation.

Loaded down once again with bags, we made our way to the train station via Altstadt for one last view in the daylight of the beautiful facades on the buildings (some of which have been preserved since the middle ages), and found our way to the Town Hall Clock (Rathaus Stadt Luzern), built in 1606, an incredible clock tower that is an icon in the city.

We hopped on our train to Interlaken, slightly frustrated that we didn't have an extra 30 minutes to explore some more. The views once again were lovely and never-ending, with quaint Swiss chalets dotting the country side with their traditional dark wood and green shutters. We spotted a few sheep, several smaller lakes, and my favorite - churches with giant clock towers. Once in Interlaken Ost (East), we caught a bus to the west side and checked into our new hotel, Hotel Beausite.

We were in a hurry to catch what we came here for - the annual January 2 festival of Harder Potschete! Every year on this day, the town is haunted by the masked figures of the Hardermann, his wife and his band of followers, the Potschen. Adults and children dress in colorful costumes and masks, growling at onlookers and swiping them with pine boughs and strips of cloth and leather (beats the pig bladders they used to blow up and hit people with!). There's live music, groups that hand out hot chicken broth, and plenty of people lining the streets. The characters are separated throughout the parade by groups of men in traditional uniforms ringing giant cowbells in unison. The parade concludes with Glühwein, usually prepared from red wine, heated and spiced with cinnamon sticks, cloves, star aniseed, citrus, and sugar, and unsweetened cider (they really love their apples in this country!).

With the festival winding down, we hopped on a train bound for Lauterbrunnen to see Trümmelbach Falls. We missed the bus by 30 seconds out to the falls, so we stopped inside a little cafe for a slice of cake and the best milk ever! From this snack on, we had milk in massive quantities every chance I got. The one downside to being as flexible as we are is that sometimes we don't look ahead, and the falls are closed in January. We weren't the only ones who made that mistake, finding two Americans from Texas also pondering this setback. They traveled back to town with us and caught the train to have dinner with us in nearby Grindelwald.

We wandered through Grindelwald to shop, stopping for drinks at a few little outdoor bars where glühwein flowed, and chocolates at Swiss Chocolate Chalet. We glanced at Cuckoo clocks, cow bells, Swiss army knives and knitted items with Swiss flags. It started snowing, so we ducked inside a restaurant we could all agree on (basically, one that had cheese fondue, because I'm a food snob) called Bebbis.

I upgraded my cheese fondue to include vegetables, so I'd feel slightly better about the fact that my dinner was cheese and bread, the exact same thing I've chosen to eat every other meal I've had. I nearly burned myself when the pot, called a caquelon tipped and I tried to right it with my bare hands.Derek chose to try the Raclette, but it was poorly made - this traditional Swiss dish of jacket potatoes and melted cheese is obviously fabulous, so I blame the restaurant. We had a wonderful time with our new friends, who told us about their trip coming from Gstaad, a super expensive, posh part of the country with Ice Hotels (better in theory than reality, they claim).

We wandered in the snow back to the train station, stopping momentarily to have someone take our picture (it was hysterical - she informed us beforehand that it might not be very good as she'd just finished her fourth beer - good on you, sister!). It turned out beautifully...I should always ask inebriated women to take photos.

Chapel Bridge, Mount Pilatus and the Lion of Lucerne

We started our morning early (at least I did - my sleep schedule is still a bit wonky) with breakfast at our hotel with our friends. Breakfast is a wonderful (very European) assortment of coffee and tea, fruit and yogurt, meats and cheeses, and bread loaves to slice and coat with cherry or apricot jam (which is everywhere here - they grow these fruits on the French side of the country, I'm told) and Nutella.

After bidding our friends goodbye, we realized we'd be able to catch an earlier train down to Lucerne, so we checked out. The overcast day didn't much motivate me, so a train ride through the incredible mountains was just what was needed. We burned through a lot of time on the ride taking photos and videos through the windows, more amazed with what came around each corner, and equally frustrated at the reflection from the windows and constantly passing poles and trees and sometimes modern apartment buildings that blocked our otherwise stunning view.

Travel Tip: We didn't pack any roller bags - highly recommend backpacks and shoulder bags because cobblestone streets are everywhere and they will not only wreck your wheels, but will disturb everyone around you like a squeaky wheel on a cart at the grocery store. So, just don't.

When we arrived, heavy with our bags, we made our way to our hotel, Hotel Balances, a short walk from the train station via the oldest covered bridge in Europe, Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke). Built in 1333, it still stands over the River Reusse. It has beautiful paintings inside on the roof panels to enjoy as you walk along. The water tower, built roughly 30 years before the bridge, has housed a prison and torture chamber, as well as a municipal archive (it's now closed to the public).

Beautiful medieval architecture stands all along the water, with multiple church steeples and spires and charming riverside restaurants. We had a riverfront view from our room, so we gawked for awhile at our luck - the room was reduced because it's winter, otherwise, there's no way we would probably have ever had the chance to stay here. Thanks for the tip, Invisible Tourist!

It's overcast but brighter than Zurich, so we decide our first move will be to head to the mountains, to check out Mount Pilatus. We took a bus from the station a few minutes out of town, then hiked a short while to the gondola station. We got a 50% discount with our Swiss Travel Pass, but had to pay separately for the tickets. The little red cars pull you up to a breathtaking mountain pass slightly above all of the clouds that had settled in.

Travel Tip: Get the Swiss Travel Pass while you're here, or the discount pass. We picked ours up at the airport's information center outside of the train station. We *rarely* had to think about tickets - get on a bus, get on a train, go anywhere, you're good to go. We didn't waste time at each station getting tickets, and in one case (tomorrow's blog) when you go the wrong way for, like, hours because you screwed up a very basic and easy to use app because you were tired, there's no monetary penalty! Only twice did we have to buy other tickets - going to Mount Pilatus and Jungfraujoch - and otherwise, we were set.

Part way to the summit of Pilatus Kulm, you can stop at Frakmuntegg, which we did. I've rarely in my life seen Derek so excited! I dropped into a seat in the restaurant there (aptly named Restaurant Frakmuntegg) which is set up like a self-serve ski resort restaurant. I bought apple cider and alplermagronen, a traditional Swiss alpine dish made with cheese, macaroni and potatoes, topped with crispy fried onions, and served with a side of stewed apple sauce (which I find is best eaten with it, on each forkful). That's comfort food at its best!

Now on a new cable car, called the Dragon Ride, we rose to the summit. There is a red dragon, Pilu, on each of the cable cars, symbolic of the medieval fable that a dragon with healing powers lived within the mountain. We paused at the top for the landing to be fully aligned, and being hit with Swiss watch advertisements without apology as we hovered.

Then out we went through Hotel Bellevue - instant regret for not knowing that you could stay overnight in such a beautiful place hit us for a moment before we walked out into the blinding light. Above the clouds at nearly 7,000 feet up, we hiked up Esel (carefully, it was crazy icy) to view the other peaks nearby (the clouds below made it feel like we were in Neverland, with no sign of the valley or even Frakmuntegg just below). Everyone is taking selfies and photographs, and I held on to my phone for dear life as the wind whipped through. An unaccompanied minor hurled snowballs over the edge, and wiggled the rather weak looking bars keeping us from tumbling down the mountain. The stairs are not terribly narrow, but become so when foolish people stop in the middle to take photos from them.

Travel Tip: If you visit in the winter, dress like you're going skiing - the winds up here are very strong, it can get very cold, and wear shoes with stellar traction, as people were falling all over the place from the ice that coated most surfaces.

We made our way across the ice rink that was the walkway to Hotel Pilatus-Kulm for some food, only to learn that they were closed. We wandered outside to watch people playing games and eating their picnic lunches on lawn chairs, huddled under blankets. Black birds circled in the air, waiting for someone to drop a snack. On faraway summits, crosses are visible through the fog.

Travel Tip: Everything, and I mean everything, seems to close early here. Want to catch a bus after 9 in Interlaken? Fat chance! You'll have to pay for a taxi, which run at unbelievably high rates. Want to eat at a restaurant on the summit? You can, if it's before 4 pm. Walking the main street in Bern on a Friday night, looking for dinner and to shop? Not if it's after 7, you don't!

We got in an impossibly long line to head down, and with the last cable car leaving at 4:30, we knew it was possible that we wouldn't make it if they held the line (we made it to the front of the line as the 4:30 pulled away, but they had to keep running the cable cars because it's a holiday, and what did they think was going to happen?!). Derek bought me a hot chocolate to drink in line while he took in the view as the sun began to set. We traded spots so that I could see one last time. It was truly breathtaking.

On the way down, we chatted with an American and a German living in Switzerland. The fog was so thick, we couldn't see anything anyway. Back to the bus and back to our room, and just in time for our dinner reservation!

I will follow good food to the literal ends of the earth, so the Old Swiss House in Lucerne was high on my list. This is a pricey place to dine, and you should dress nicely (not too nicely, but for the love of all good things, don't come in anything resembling jean material), but if you have your hotel make a reservation for you and you're ready to fill up on some serious calories, this is the place for you. My brother gifted me $50 francs for my birthday and told me to spend it like he would (read: not practically), so this is where those funds are gonna get blown.

The bread was divine, as it is everywhere. Derek ordered their three course fixed price meal, with cheese croquets, poached fish and chocolate mousse (which we doubled - it was served at the end straight from the container with a hot spoon rinsed between servings and atop a bed of fluffy homemade whipped cream - I think I made Derek uncomfortable with how much I was enjoying it).

I ordered their house special, of which they make 1500 servings a month - their wiener schnitzel, made table side, with so much butter I could FEEL my arteries clogging. Whatever. No one makes dairy products better than the Swiss, and whether or not you'll work it off later is really not important. I ate every crumb. Well, except a few I inadvertently popped onto the table cloth, which our waiter expertly whisked away with his little silver crumb collector. He met us at the door with our coats. I was angry that I was full.

Right down the street from the Old Swiss House is the famous Lion of Lucerne monument (Löwendenkmal), which is accurately described as the saddest stone in the world. Built in 1821 to commemorate the fallen Swiss soldiers who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution, while protecting the royal family in Paris.

The dedication written on the monument is Helvetiorum Fidei ac Virtuti ("To the loyalty and bravery of the Swiss"). The dying lion has a spear stuck in his side, covering a shield bearing the French monarchy's fleur-de-lis and another next to him with the coat of arms of Switzerland. The inscription below lists the names of the officers and gives the number of soldiers who died (760) and survived (350). The outside shape resembles a pig, purportedly because the sculptor wasn't paid the agreed upon commission.

Viewing it at night is incredibly solemn and almost eerie, but very peaceful. It brings something out in you that you didn't know was there, to see the shadows of the branches falling over the image across the little pond, the reflection showing the massive, critically injured lion. It can't be captured on film or by photograph...not really. The quiet part of town where it's located keeps annoying sounds and bright lights away, and we were there alone or with a few others who were equally quiet, so it was a magnificent time for reflection.

We wandered back through the old town, Altstadt, a shopping district where buildings are covered with colorful facades and paintings of medieval scenes. Beautiful fountains and golden signs hang off of the buildings. We visited the hotel bar for free glasses of Prosecco (they love their Prosecco here! This hotel is my favorite). Back in our room, we threw one last glance from our balcony over the river lit up below, and enjoyed our turn-down service chocolates, oval-shaped and stamped with the hotel's information.

New Year's Eve in Zürich

On the final day of 2018, we were up early for the complimentary breakfast at our hotel (Hotel Marta - really great selection, and all you can eat, which bodes well in expensive countries for Derek). Well caffeinated once again, and high from finally having slept enough the day before, Derek was ready to go right away, but I was feeling overly full and tired, so we went to our room. The gloomy grey-white day is massively demotivating for me, so I slept while he broke out his new charcoal sketch book to work out beautiful sketches of the Eiger and Matterhorn peaks...clearly, his primary interest for this trip are quite obvious! He went for a nice run on the Limmat River and up to Lindenhof park, where he could see for miles from the site of a (now long gone) Roman fort. Pieces of art, including a full size chess board, dot the park's landscape, and he returned thrilled that he had the time to work out in such a lovely place.

We met our friends Dianne and Jared, having just arrived from Austria, and their friend Rich back at the hotel. We wandered the alleyways looking for lunch, and found The Spaghetti Factory (not the version you may know from America - this is the real deal), which was overly crowded, but then, they all were. We walked further, determined waiting was our best option, and circled back just in time to slide in front of a family coming in with their kids and luggage. We enjoyed fresh pasta and great conversation, and were pleased with the meal (well, all but the 9 franc charge per bottle of water, which wasn't served from a new plastic bottle - watch it if you order water in restaurants!). From there, we wandered in the spitting rain through the streets to see the city's beautiful architecture.

We started wandering in the old town district along Augustinergasse, with incredible "reading nooks" jutting from their stunningly painted street-facing facades, which have been captivating shoppers since the 17th century. We found St. Peter Kirche (German for "church") with Europe's largest church clock, which was developed in the 15th century, and enjoyed a lovely fountain just down the street filled with roses right outside of the green-spire topped Christkatholische Kirchgemeinde (Catholic church - it was closed).

We window shopped on to the most expensive street in Europe, Bhanhopfstrasse, looking out for chocolate shops that we might visit and to gawk at the crazy holiday window display at Confiserie Teuscher. Derek led us to a wildly popular, jam packed chocolaterie called Confiserie Sprüngli (Bahnhofstrasse 21) where he bought us each a truffle to enjoy, which we pulled from a "mystery" bag he had assembled.

Fraumünster Church with its iconic narrow, green spire and unique, more modern-styled stained glass and Grossmünster church, a Romanesque cathedral easily recognizable by its twin towers (we were unable to go in as they close at 5 pm and we arrived one minute too late) rounded out our sightseeing.

While wandering we also found Café Schober, a hundred year old cafe serving handmade chocolates and beautiful cakes, with unbelievable ceilings and stunning holiday decor. Thirsty for some great dark beer, we made our way back to our hotel to enjoy the pub right next door, the Bonnie Prince, where we used a few of the last hours of 2018 telling stories and talking politics and commiserating over our travel experiences (and being openly jealous of one another's conquests).

When hunger set in, we wandered the streets unsuccessfully trying to find an open table for 5 in a restaurant that wouldn't totally break the bank, and ended up wandering well off the beaten path following colorful lights that dangled over the streets into darker residential areas. Eventually finding our way back to the river, we finally found the french inspired Restaurant Mere Catherine, a nautically-themed spot where a literal fog horn bellowed throughout dinner and the wait staff was dressed like sailors. Little New Years celebratory photo booth items dotted the tables and streamers hung from the wall sconces as we enjoyed our food - the french onion soup was marvelous, and Derek very much enjoyed their beet and goat cheese risotto.

Now down to the water we wandered, among 100,000 other visitors, to await the final countdown into the New Year and to watch a spectacular fireworks show (18 minutes long) over the lake. We positioned ourselves on a doc over the water where we could avoid most of the crowds, and readied our phones and cameras as they counted down the minutes backwards in German. The church bells rang continuously (and there are many church towers on the waterfront) for a solid 15 minutes leading up to the show, as private citizens set off their own fireworks and sparklers.

Welcome, 2019! What a wonderful place to celebrate your arrival!

Zürich and the Limmat River

We're here in frozen Switzerland, ready to ring in the New Year! We flew from SLC > DEN > MUC > ZRH and landed today around noon. We had the great fortunate of flying Lufthansa, which I deeply love, and the misfortune of *apparently* choosing a type of ticket from United that forced me to pay $60 for my checked bag (I never check bags, but the amount of gear one has to pack to stay warm consumes a lot of space). Once in Zurich, we exchanged our cash at a UBS bank at the airport, and then popped downstairs to visit the rail office. There is an undeniably great deal from SBB here for riding all rail lines in the country for 8 straight days for a fixed fee, so we sprung for it (there's also a half fare card that works well if you're not spanning two calendar months, but alas, we were). You can download the SBB Mobile app for their schedules and information - it's a piece of cake to use!

We're planning to roughly follow the itinerary of The Invisible Tourist (here) after our New Years celebrations, heading down to Lucerne and Interlaken, Zermatt and possibly Bern, if we have time. We read about a very random, awesome parade in Lucerne on Jan 2 called Harder-Potschete. When I sent Derek the link, he simply responded, "Well obviously that's happening."

We're staying at Hotel Marta, just one street off the Limmat River. When we got in, we took the train to the downtown station, walked a few minutes to our hotel, checked in immediately and fell asleep for 7 hours...not ideal, unless one of you is massively sleep-deprived from being on nights at the hospital. We woke up at 10, just in time to grab dinner at Calypso Grill, an open street restaurant serving bratwurst. We walked down the river and took pictures of the lights and Christmas trees still decorating the cobblestone streets, and headed in to check out the footage on my new dji osmo pocket, so Derek can make fun short videos of our trip.

Tomorrow, we'll meet up with our good friends, Diane and Jared, who live in Germany, to ring in the New Year, and at the moment, we have zero planned, so while we're wide awake in the middle of the night, we'll take advantage of our enthusiasm and get something of a skeleton plan under us for tomorrow.

Pesto Gelatto and Zebra-striped Cathedrals in Genoa

Finding our Hotel
We were jarred awake in our ferry cabin by the overhead announcement that disembarking was imminent. At least, that's what it felt like. We slowly came to realize though that they were giving us just enough heads up to peruse the ferry's restaurants for breakfast, and we still had time to gather our things and get ready to visit Italy for the first time. If we hadn't felt so ferry-lagged it would've been more exciting. Compounding things, I'd lost a one-sided argument with the wifi; I wanted it to work after I paid for it, it didn't want to...so we were going to have to go off limited info to find our hotel.

The ferry dropped us off at the port. Genoa is a holdover from Italy's period as a major maritime and world power (no offense, modern Italy), and is a historic port city. Unlike the romantic terms used for say Rome or Venice, Genoa is often described in more apologetic terms. Italy at any level is an enticement to say the least, and Genoa would let us see a side of Italy seemingly more "quintessential" and also less over-run with tourists.

We wandered off the ferry and, after basically doing the 21st century version of licking our thumb and sticking it up in the air to see which way to go, wandered into a shopping center. McDonald's lied to us by offering free Wifi, and our affections for the internet were rejected yet again. Europe may be more sophisticated and socially progressive than the States, but dammit if we don't have them beat on: WIFI everywhere, tap water is free and bountiful, and bathrooms are all over the place. If our European friends could advance on those fronts we'd be in a great place.

For now, though, we were still S.O.I. (Sh*t out of internet). We walked out of the street towards the bus stop TH had thoughtfully found and had a bit of an argument; I did not want Kendra to be frustrated by the frustrating circumstances, and Kendra was frustrated by the frustrating circumstances. International travel makes for great instagram photos, but it's not all fun and games as many know, it's more of a 'best of times, worst of times' situation.

We found the bus stop right away and a bus showed up immediately, which was a huge win. We then tried to pay and failed, so we ended up catching a courtesy ride (thanks, Genoa!) about 10 min down the coast to our hotel immediately next to the airport. This worked out great because we just rolled out of bed to our check-in the next morning. For now, we had to drop off our bags and come up with a plan of attack.

We used the hotel wifi to record the main sites to see, which were all in a walkable area downtown, and then headed off back into the city. At some point we learned that Genoa is mecca for pesto, which we were thrilled about, and also that they gave the world blue jeans ("blue de Genes"). So now with that fun fact you have an icebreaker at your next party.

Cathedrals and tourist-dodging
We caught an express bus downtown which though expensive suited our purposes nicely because it was fast and comfortable. We hopped off by the beautiful Piaza de Ferrari and Kendra immediately set about snapping photos (I joke that we could make a flipbook out of our trips with how often she stops to take photos. In Eze and Bruge there was an average of 10 feet walked between photographs...but as she says, we get the benefit of lots of photos).

Kendra had found a highly rated cafe online and we made our way through the narrow alleyways toward it. We found Caffe Fratelli Nadotti and it did not disappoint. The charming proprietors helped us select an Italian breakfast and we enjoyed the atmosphere for a bit. We then walked outside and were surprised to be next to a gorgeous church, the Parish St Maria Maddalena. It was strikingly decorated on the inside, but even more strikingly seemed to be 'just another church' as far as Genoa was concerned. Classic Europe.

'Targeted wandering" remained the name of the game and we made our way toward the Saint Lawrence Cathedral, which was intriguingly decorated in black-and-white stone. Two captivating lions guarded the entrance, and, after Kendra covered her shamefully exposed shoulders, we were able to see the stunning interior before making a graceful exit as a service began.

Emerging back into the daylight we were greeted by throngs of tourists and did not hide our distaste for the crowds of people. Perhaps it's hypocritical given that we're also visitors adding to the congestion, but we at least do our best to conduct ourselves as guests or travelers.

We kept up on our wandering, heading toward Doge Palace, a renaissance and art gallery. We elected not to tour the actual exhibits, but were entertained walking through an antiques marketplace that was set up in the central plaza.

Next up in our walkabout was to stop by Palazzo Spinola, a highly-rated national gallery. We found it amongst the narrow and at times charming / at times smelly (sorry, Genoa, but it's true) alleyways, however we would've had to wait for one of the tour times so we kept on moving.


St Syrus basilica is apparently one of the coolest churches in all of Italy. We went inside and it was amazing. Only we didn't because it was closed. That was disappointing.

We went up by Via Garibaldi and stopped at Bar Pagianni to refuel with an onion and tomato focaccia and vegetable sandwich. I created some social media on Insta while Kendra read up on Genoa.

Now walking down Via Garibaldi we were able to experience a real treat of seeing the ornate facades of the mansion / city-estates that were the homes of the powerful merchants from Genoa's personal renaissance. Kendra was quite frustrated to not be able to tour each in detail (and a little frustrated that I didn't want to pay the 9-ish Euro it cost to tour one...). We did go inside #12 and were able to enjoy the central courtyard. You almost felt like you were Italian nobility pondering which artist to commission for your next statue. One of the facades even had a full Renaissance style painting on a wall facing the alley outside of the house.

We found a gelato shop next to a woman singing opera in the street and grabbed a chair. Kendra selected lemon gelato (amazing) and pesto gelato (a life experience, but I wouldn't order it twice). Kendra best described it as 'interesting' rather than delicious or bad. Maybe it was a combination of both.

We walked the old alleyways to kill more time as we made our way down toward the waterfront to get lunch. Surprisingly, within a block of the super fancy Via Garibaldi there were again the smelly alleyways with what were almost invariably prostitutes in several of the side alleys. It was quite the  contrast.

We had investigated where we could get the best pesto and learned that it was at Cavour 21. We found it down by the water and were immediately thrilled to find we were the only non-Italians in the place. Trying to find "out-of-the-way, locals-only" restaurants in exotic locales is like pure cocaine to Kendra. Cavour 21 did not disappoint. I ordered pesto lasagna which was phenomenal, and ordered Milanese which I was disappointed to later learn was veal (although maybe that's also hypocritical since I eat grown animals. I don't know). Kendra ordered lobster with al dente spaghetti and pesto noodles and was served a giant sliced-in-half lobster on her plate. I noticed that the wine was super cheap and very stealthily (to me, it was obvious to Kendra) ordered A LITER of Rosé for 6 Euro. Only turns out Kendra was too full to drink wine so I ended up drinking the entire liter in about 20 minutes.  They were closing, so while we paid our bill the restaurant dog Dablo came wandering through. They gave me bread to feed him and we immediately became best friends. Dablo was just using me for my bread but I didn't mind. We'll always have Genoa, Dablo.

That wine caught up to me quickly. I would later, and by later I mean in another 20 minutes, be drunkenly berating a pigeon's poorly coordinated attempts to eat the bread I tossed him while Kendra filmed me. So now that video exists.

We wandered up toward a tiny park and Kendra, in an incredible act of grace and selflessness, let me sleep off my mistake on a park bench while she sat there and re-evaluated her perspective on our relationship. I ended up sleeping for ninety minutes. The combination of my year of sleep deprivation and inability to adjust my now non-existent circadian rhythm to our overseas travel, along with the aforementioned waterboarding of myself with Rosé, all had conspired together to create a perfect storm of sleepiness. It's insane how much I don't deserve her.

I finally woke up and we walked back to the port. We'd already seen most of the cultural things to see, and with every travel site we reviewed recommending the Aquarium, we thought what the heck. It was actually a lot of fun. Despite being one of Europe's most impressive aquariums, it was still a little modest by American standards (which is fine, since most things in the States are scaled up quite a bit). They had a great Manatee exhibit, where we spent by far the most individual time viewing. We saw Monk seals, penguins, and dolphins (though like most I remain torn on dolphins in captivity. I like that exposing the public to dolphins can help engender appreciation and foster conservation efforts,  but it is definitely a prison for those in captivity. Although a prison without sharks or orcas). One of the best exhibits, besides the manatees - I love manatees - was actually a tank in the jellyfish area where they had plastic bags in water showing you how much they looked like jellyfish. At least plastic pollution is picking up steam in mainstream media; Kendra and I have started using compostable bags and would rather be punched in the face than use a straw.

Bittersweet Gelato
Leaving the aquarium, we walked back toward Piazza de Ferrari. There was an anti-fascist political demonstration which was annoyingly loud, although I guess if you think about it I'm anti-fascist so maybe we should've joined in. The demonstration meant they had diverted our bus stop, though, so we walked down the main road of XX Settembre toward the next bus stop about 10 minutes away. We came across a charming alleyway decorated in an overhead ceiling of colored umbrellas, and found a little gelato stand next to beautiful live music. While the two musicians performed a duet we sat in silence and soaked up the feeling. We were beginning to mourn leaving all of this - the freedom, carelessness, and delight of travel, punctuated as it may be by the intermittent moment of frustration or fatigue.

This had been an incomparable trip; from the boardwalk of Nice to this alleyway in Genoa, we had I think truly made the most of the experience. We did know that we were leaving to head home to a great life, however, making the moment incredibly bittersweet.

We lingered as we said au revoir to our trip through the French Riveria, Corsica, and Genoa, feeling in love and fulfilled following a beautiful week together. We can't wait to go back. 

Corsi-can't? Oh no, we Corsi-can! - Bastia and Saint Florent

Monaco to Corsica
During our evening in Monaco we went to plan our trip to Cinque Terra and saw a little exclamation point symbol in Google Maps- the Italians were on a rail strike, and the railroad is the only reliable way into Cinque Terra. The planned strike was occurring the exact day we were planning to travel there. What a huge party foul, but at least it was quite polite of the railworkers to schedule in their strikes. We needed a new plan, and zooming out in Google Maps we noticed an island with a ferry route to it.

Corsica.

Let's do it.

So we make a plan to take the morning train from Monaco to Nice, then we'll hop off the train at Le Port and make a run for the ferry. We didn't know what we would do in Corsica, mind you, or have a plan on how we'd make it from Corsica to Italy in two days for our international flight home. But those were minor details, we were Corsica bound.

Just like The Hotness (what I call Kendra, TH for short) said in her blog post on Monaco, we made a run through the rain to get a passport stamp at the tourist office and check out a famous stretch of the formula one course- the Fairmont Hairpin curve. After getting changed in our hotel, we made our way down to Monaco's nice train station.

After waiting in the train station with a latte for me and an orange soda for TH, we took the short 30min-ish trip into Nice Riquier. We were slogging through the rain now with a significant thunderstorm in full effect. We stopped to try to pick up pastries but our card was declined and embarrassingly we had to hand them back. Devastated.

We kept slogging through to the ferry station. Unbeknownst to us, when they say get to the port 30min before the ferry at the latest, they really mean it! When we squished up in our wet clothes we found the ferry was practically pulling away from the dock and the attendants were shouting at us like a SWAT team rescuing hostages to spring on board. They actually grabbed our bags and ran ahead of us! With a flying leap we made it onto the ferry and we were off to Corsica.

We decompressed with a beer and a nice Italian-style pizza from a ferry restaurant as we let the PTSD from our traumatic ferry boarding wash away. After an uncomfortable 5 hours lying awkwardly in a lounge, we made it! We were in Corsica.

Now...what to do?

Bastia 
Bastia is the second largest city in Corsica and it's main commercial and port city. Corsica itself, to an American, is kind of like France's Puerto Rico; a part of the country but proudly of its own heritage. Corsica was interestingly part of the Republic of Genoa at one point and under Italian occupation during World War 2, so there's a very pleasant intersection of French and Italian culture on the island, though it certainly has an identity all its own.

We took photos of the beautiful harbor that frames your view as you arrive. We then walked the kilometer or so to our hotel, Le Forum, which though modest had wonderful proprietors that were more than gracious in introducing us to the island and giving us detailed recommendations on where to go for dinner. We walked down through the harbor and up the Grand Staircase (a favorite photo spot for the locals) up toward the citadel. Most strikingly, especially coming from places like Monaco and Villefranche Sur Mer, the harbor almost looked to be in disrepair with many of the facades around the harbor heavily weathered. This was actually part of the charm of Corsica; they didn't cater to tourists or travelers.

Walking past a pastry shop we naturally went in and bough millfoils and macarons. We stopped in a park overlooking the expansive coastline and munched on the exquisitely delicate french pastries. Most striking about Corsica is actually it's natural features- the island is ribbed by tall mountains and part of the adventure of coming here lies in the opportunity for trekking, mtn biking, and visiting remote beaches.

We found our way through the Citadel to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the harbor - Le Perchoir. We ordered rose, and I had a seared fish with vegetables while Kendra had a tasty chicken dish. Swallows flew all around the citadel as night fell on the harbor and the Church Saint Jean Baptiste grew in prominence as it became illuminated in light. Heading back to our hotel through the harbor, we came across an impromptu dance troop of mostly older Corsicans holding what was effectively the worlds most charming and adorable dance party- doing a tango/waltz throughout the square. We stopped to stuff our faces with millfoil while we took in the charming display of fun.

Heading back to our hotel, we planned out our options. Unfortunately, Corsica does not have a very developed public transit system so you're limited by renting a car or using one of the few bus lines. We only had a day though, and we had to make the most of it, and we had to figure out how we were going to get back to Italy! Against the odds, we found a night cabin on a ferry back to Genoa the next night. What a huge win! We slammed in our credit card info to secure the spot and then fell asleep knowing that the plan we had for the next day maybe, just maybe, would work. We were going to rent a car (not sure where), drive across the island over the mtns (we took screenshots of Google Maps), rent a spot on a boat (if they had space and we found it) and then arrive by boat at paradise on earth- either Plage de Loto or Plage de Salaccio; two beaches framed by ethereal turquoise waters and the Corsican desert.

Saint Florent and Plage de Loto
We did not get off to a flying start. We failed to change any of our USD to Euros (apparently that's not a thing in Corsica; the lady at the bank acted like it was the most absurd notion), and then we got sugary pastries for breakfast but have finally, finally, managed to get burnt out on breakfast pastries. And by 'we' I mean 'TH' cause I love breakfast pastries. Then we found Hertz and waited in a line of literally 3 people but the lady at Hertz was so slow and we were burning so much daylight waiting we actually bounced to another rental car company but they were out. We tried the tourist station for bus info and they were super helpful but the bus for Saint Florent left at 11am and returned at 4pm, far too little time to visit a remote beach. Bollocks! Back to Hertz and we finally got a rental car- a deep cherry red Peugeot that I will henceforth refer to as Francois.

We threw our stuff in Francois. The rental car was in my name so I hopped in the driver seat and whoah! Francois is a manual. No worries; our old VW bug was a manual and I drove a manual pickup all around Thailand, but it'd been a few years and we were driving in Corsica through the mountains. I was excited and a little intimidate. I had the #Don'tCrackUnderPressure ad from Red Bull motorsports in my mind as we got ready.

I threw Francois into 1st gear and were off. Driving through town and then up into the mountains, we made our way past some road construction only stalling the car once without any incidents of course and were then slicing through the mountain switchbacks. Francois made short work of the twisty road which took us through the charming village of Santa Maria. TH raged against the dying of the light as the best lighting for photographs was currently in full display but we had to make it into Saint Florent.

Arriving in town we didn't really know where to go, so we headed toward the harbor and got stuck in the tight alleyways lined with tourists. We Jason Bourne'd Francois through the narrow alleys and up a dirt road, parking by the citadel. After a little wandering through the harbor found the boat service, Popeye, and got two tickers for Loto beach. It seemed like both Loto and Saleccia were ideal places to stay, but the decision was made for us given that Loto had space and Saleccia didn't. We had 45min to cool and got some great photos of the Citadel along the waterfront, and picked up a water bottle and baguette.

We were both pretty excited as we hopped on the boat out to Loto. Soon we were outside of the harbor and flying along the coarse; the desert landscape reminding me of pictures I'd seen of Greece. The water was stunning and the brightest blue I'd seen; even Thailand's Maya beach and Aruba didn't compare.

Pulling into dock at Loto we were thrilled. Is this real life?! The gorgeous beach formed a gentle crescent arc and we walked through the powder soft sand to the far end where there was a bit more room. We found a blank space between a nice family and a group of beautiful young women who TH noticed were topless, I must've missed it somehow.

The next 5 hours flew by as we lounged on the soft sand and waded into the shallow surf. The water was perfectly chilled, perfectly clear, and it was surreal to be able to play around in it together. I went back out for an open water swim and noticed several jellyfish; they were actually quite beautiful in a striking red in color. Floating next to them I was slightly entranced, they were like nature's lava lamps floating around. I'd later pontificate if a group of jellies is called a jam.

The boat eventually arrived to take us back to Saint Florent and there was weeping and gnashing of teeth. Our romantic moment to take in the surroundings degenerated into a mutual toddler-esque fit of 'I don't want to go, you can't make me.' But make us they could, and we hopped into the boat. Interestingly on the ride back we saw an ultralight aircraft some enterprising and potentially suicidal Corsican made out of a hang-glider and a zodiac. No joke. I was like, "I want to be friends with that person."

Back to Francois and back to Bastia over the mountains. We dropped him off with Hertz (Au revoir cher ami, je me souviendrai toujours de toi ), picked up our bags from Hotel Le Forum, and had a lovely meal at Palais des Glaces along the city plaza (highly recommended, they were very kind to expedite our meal). We ordered a bottle of wine and even ventured to ask to take it with us in a genius move by TH. After a long hike (panic stricken due to our aforementioned PTSD from our Nice ferry boarding) we made it onto the ferry. Dropping off our luggage in our room, we drank our wine and ate chocolate cake as we watched Bastia slip away in the sunset.

On to Genoa.

Luxury Defined: Monte Carlo, Expensive Cars & the Grand Prix Hairpin

That night, we were ready to experience Monaco! We awoke from a nap after our day trip to Eze and changed into our nice clothes (you can't slum it in this town, so bring your A game...also, there's a dress code to enter the casino). We walked from our hotel through the streets and a beautiful park, where it opened up to this extraordinary building, much of which, when coming upon it from its eastern end, is full of very high end shops, the likes of which I'll never be able to afford.

I left Derek at Café de Paris, which overlooks the entrance to the casino, to enjoy the ambiance and live music (and to gawk at the crazy expensive cars that pass by). He had decided that he'd rather have a 10 Euro brown ale than spend 17 Euro on the entry fee, so I was off to enjoy the interior myself.

I felt super glamorous walking up the red carpet, surrounded by security guards in tuxedos. As I entered the foyer, I tried not to gawk - it was magnificent, from floor to ceiling. You could tell this was no Vegas - everything was real, and it was all expensive.

I entered what I called the "blue room," an unbelievable, larger-than-life crown jewel with a breath-taking bar and roulette tables. Men in tuxedos monitored and managed the games, as well-dressed tourists tossed their Euros their way. This room is called Salle Europe, and the pictures I've seen online don't do it one ounce of justice.

I wandered through to the "red room" which had gambling machines the likes of which were straight out of Vegas. It was odd, seeing such trashy electric lighting and characters in such an opulent space. All of their sounds were *thank the lord* silenced, at least...or if they weren't, I was too entranced to notice them. I later learned the red room is called Salle des Amériques (appropriate, given we ruined good old fashioned betting with cartoon characters and obnoxious music).

Sitting at one of these machines was an older Russian man, who quickly grabbed my attention. We spoke briefly about where I was from, and politics, and the inevitable mention of government interference in our elections. His elevator eyes were painfully noticeable, but I don't think he was concerned about being much of a gentleman. Shortly after I excused myself and wandered off, he entered the "white room" through the red velvet ropes (its literal name is Salle Blanche). I walked over to it and was promptly stopped by two gentlemen guarding the VIP area. I asked if I could look at the ceiling - because I'm absolutely in love with every inch of this place - and they allowed it, but only if I stood no further forward than this specific line in the sand. It was unreal, the white room (well, what I could see of it was, anyway).

The next part, my loving husband says, happened because I'm "hot, and open to new experiences." Also, I believe, because my husband was not, in this case, open to the 'new experience' of paying 17 Euro to see the inside of a building.

I wandered around, trying to take photos very discretely (I'm not very discrete, I was busted by a penguin in the blue room, but I managed to take a few of the ceilings), and finally, when there was nothing new to see but so much to digest (and wanting to make it worth all 17 Euro), I sat down on a seat near the entrance to take it all in.

One of the roulette dealers who didn't have a customer looked my way. He caught my eye, and smiled at me. I could tell he knew I was soaking it all in, and was simultaneously trying to be cool about it. I noticed he kept looking at me, so I went over to his table and asked him how the game was played. We chatted for a bit, then a girl came to play at the table. She wasn't very good, apparently, because she lost 50 Euro in less than 5 minutes, but during her round, he told me his break was in 10 minutes, and if his manager would allow it, would I like a tour? BE COOL, KENDRA. Oh, I suppose that might be nice, if you're willing, but no problem if not. Ten minutes later, the manager clears me for my tour, and he escorts me through the blue room to the red room, and at the threshold of the white room, which I could not get past on my own, the men standing guard moved the rope aside. "Right this way, madame."

And that's how I entered Heaven. The White Room. Oh my gosh, it cannot be described. This room, I learned, is for high rollers only. How high? I have no idea...Alex, my escort, said they "spend a lot of money." There were a handful of people, nearly all men, playing Texas Hold 'Em and Black Jack. Alex asked if I wanted a drink from the fanciest bar I've ever seen - it was like staring at the sun, I couldn't even focus on it. I knew I'd never be able to afford a drink in here, so I declined. He took me through to the terrace, where we could enjoy the view of the sea (it was quite dark, but I could imagine it well). The high rollers looked up at me as I walked through, probably curious about who I was and how I had made all of my money. I've decided, that's what I'm going with.

So, my personal tour came to its end. At least, that's what I thought. It's a giant hotel, but I didn't see anywhere else to go. There was a narrow hallway off of the White Room, which Alex led me down. Would I like to see the high roller area that they open in the winter? Umm, does Bambi wish his mom was still with him?! Show me the money!

We came upon another brilliant, indescribable room with a stained glass ceiling that made me want to faint then and there. Alex was enjoying watching me openly fall apart over the beauty of this place now that I didn't have fellow high rollers to impress. But was it one room? I thought so, one with an impressive reflection. Nope! Two rooms, and they are so alike that you can only really tell because one side's stained glass has the date, 1889, in it, and the other does not (that, or walking through the second room, obviously). These were the Salle Touzet Nord & Sud. This part of the casino is closed off for the summer, so it's just Alex and me. Should I have been worried that I was about to be whisked away and sold a la Taken? Eh. Hot and open to new experiences means you have to chill once in awhile.

Through these rooms was an enormous, inconceivably lovely ballroom, gold and filled with giant chandeliers and delicate ceiling -high paintings. Here, Alex says, they hold grand dinners and special games. This is the VIP room of VIP rooms, where chips run $3,000 Euro apiece. This is Salle Médecin. Holy *%&$.

Off of this salle is another balcony - Alex moves aside the velvet ropes and OPENS THE WALLS automatically to reveal a breathtaking view of the city lights. I ask if I can take a picture of the view, and he tells me yes, I can photograph anywhere where there are not people. So I go nuts. But I'm telling you, as beautiful as my pictures are, they really, truly don't do the place justice. It's so disappointing not to be able to share it. I guess you'll just need to be hot and open to new experiences there yourself!

He tried to show me the last room, Salons Super Privés, but it was locked. This is the room, he said, where the VIP of VIPs OF VIPs gamble. It's so private, not even people who throw down at $3k per chip get in here. We're probably talking heads of state, royalty, cartel leaders...maybe even Oprah. I saw the bar outside of it, though - yet another masterpiece. I'm clearly running out of magical adjectives. Basically, you cannot imagine how beautiful everything in this place is. You just can't.

He walked me back to the Salle Blanche and asked again if I'd like anything to drink. I begged off, realizing suddenly that I had been inside for an hour and a half and that my husband was waiting outside (we had no service for me to tell him I'd be longer), so we said our good byes (I hugged him like a good American, which turned into an awkward hand-shake-cheek kiss-hug...the poor guy). Why I cared to leave that palace for Derek is beyond me, because once I left and tell him where I had been, he said, "you wouldn't have had to have paid for any of those drinks. They wanted you to stay in the high roller area to keep their guests entertained...fall behind, left behind. I could have sat here for another hour before I really would have been worried." Damn it, all! Free drinks with people throwing down millions! I could have snagged a doctor, or something ;-)

In my dazed, overly thrilled, cloud nine head space, I found Derek happily drinking and gushed out this story like middle school me if I had seen JTT on the subway. It had started to sprinkle, and it was getting quite late, so we decided to seek out dinner on the Port Hercule waterfront. Everything closed at midnight, and since we couldn't have our private chef whip us up something on our yacht, we found a grocery store and grabbed a little picnic along with all of the other wasted teenagers up at that hour and walked back to our room to plan our next move in the trip. Surprise! A rail strike planned for the next day sank our plans to visit Cinque Terre, so we decided to be super bendy and get a ferry instead down to Corsica. Who knew?! Turned out to be a brilliant move.

The next morning, we ate at our hotel, Hotel Le Forum, and walked down to the Prince's car collection at the Collection de Voitures Anciennes de S.A.S. le Prince de Monaco. This place had everything - Gulf Porsche, Formula 1 cars, beautiful classic cars, early car prototypes. This was Derek's Monte Carlo, and since he's not writing this post, you can tell that this is about all I'll give you on this stop. I will say, however, that there were over 100 cars, and I was a very big fan of everything made before 1960, of which there were plenty of examples. We saw the car Grace Kelly and the prince were married in, too! We picked up a poster in the gift shop of the Grand Prix as our only souvenir for the trip.

Nearly as important to me as seeing the countries I visit is getting that ink blot proving it in my passport. That booklet is my pride and joy, so we walked in the rain to the tourist office clear across town because I wanted my stamp. And I got it. There's no other way to get the stamp in this country, so you do you, but it was worth it for me.

We were running out of time, and at this point were in full on rain without any jackets or umbrellas, but we HAD to see the famous hairpin turn from the Grand Prix. Nothing is really that far away when the country is only 2.4 miles wide, but then, you always think things are closer than they are when you walk everywhere. We made it to the turn, I snapped pictures quickly of Derek in front of it, and we *attempted to* run back to the hotel, but not before we were entirely soaked through. I lost my sandals a few times because they had no traction and were not practical (I told you, this is Monaco, you dress for millionaire cocktail parties, not for hiking).

Soaking wet, we hauled our suitcases out on the lobby floor and changed in the bathroom. The receptionist graciously lent me a hair dryer (it was for everyone's benefit, believe me) and Derek complained that I took too long to dry my hair (I barely have hair...for a girl, I've got the shortest dry time of anyone I know. He's spoiled). Out of time, we had to get to the train station for our next adventure.

Monaco, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.

Èze, the best kept secret on the coast

Now we begin our trip east along the coast...today, we move our home base to Monaco.

We decided to take the bus instead of the train, because we had heard from friends of ours that had taken the route a few days before that the view was better and it's cheaper. We walked quite a ways to the port - the area here is quite a lot nicer than the area where we stayed near the Promenade. The buildings were better maintained and more foot traffic clearly graces this area. If the beach is your thing, stick to the Promenade, but if we had to do this over, I think we would have spent more time in the area near the port in Viexus Nice.

Bus 100 (Nice - Monaco - Menton) costs 1.50 € and runs every 15 minutes. The trip takes about 30 minutes, and it's breathtaking, especially when the sun is out and the sky is blue. Derek and I were gawking, our jaws on the floor, at the view in front of us. We didn't bother trying to take pictures through the bus window...don't be that person. The only trouble was the squealing any time the bus turned (which it did nearly every minute of the ride) from a lack of grease on the pivotal portion in the mid-section.

When we arrived in Monaco, we got off one stop too late right in front of the famous Monte Carlo casino, so we had a bit of a hike up to our hotel, Le Forum. The hike was less than fun, with our bags in tow, and we had skipped breakfast to make the bus as early as possible. Exercise and lack of pastries is NOT my favorite thing.

We checked our bags in, swapped some things out for a day trip to Eze, and headed down to another bus stop to catch our ride to our much-anticipated day trip destination. While we waited, growing very nervous that we had missed it (we had mis-read the time table to think it was meant to be at our stop when it was scheduled instead to leave its initial location), I ran across the street and bought 2 pain au chocolat and 2 croissants (I'm laughing in my head at any boulangerie or patissierie that thinks their minimum credit card charge of 7 € is going to be a challenge. Yes, there's just the two of us, but we're Americans, so 2 pastries apiece is the minimum we'll require. Oh, that one has chocolate inside AND outside? We'll need 2 of those, too.

The trip to Èze was beautiful ("ehz," not "easy" - don't be such an American). We took the 112 bus, which takes roughly 30 minutes and costs 2 € each, but it was worth the longer ride (the train is more expensive but can get you there is 8 minutes) because the ride there is so flipping worth your time. This isn't LA. There are incredible things to see from this bus, the most impressive of which is the clock tower on the church as you near the town. I died. I wanted to jump from the bus to take pictures but decided that was too touristy of me, so instead I begged to walk back along the road once we were off the bus back a mile and a half or so to the best vantage point from the incoming road. Although Derek would have allowed it, even I knew that was a lot to sacrifice for a picture.

I mean it when I say, this place is unreal. It's best to get here early, because thanks to blogs like these and Instagram and epic stories, this place gets to be loaded with tourists. I was taking pictures of literally everything I saw...little alleyways, courtyards, stair cases, tiny shops whose interiors were all still formed from original stone archways from the villager's homes. Derek found it pleasant, but I was flat out charmed to death. I may have blacked out, and when I came to, I must have taken a thousand pictures.

We had read stories about the famous restaurant in this tiny mountain town - Chateau Eza's chef is world renown, the food is incredible, the views are unmatched, and even though a visit will put a big dent in your pocketbook, some experiences are just worth it. This was one of them. The petite terraces that hang off of the edge of the hotel over nothing are reserved for guests. Tragically, one of the downsides of traveling as flexibly as we do is that failing to plan also means not being surprised when you learn that they don't have any openings (you must make a reservation, which you can do at the hotel's front desk). Disappointed, I pouted my way around the compound until I found a new thing to thrill me anew - the "exotic succulent garden" atop the entire castle foundation at the very tip top of this tiny city.

Who would pay 6 € to see a bunch of cacti in France? We did. You should. Because you're not paying for the succulents. You're paying for the unmatched, 360 degree views of this incredible area on the Cote d'Azur. And, quite honestly, their garden was really stellar. I took another zillion pictures while Derek languished in the direct sun, trying to find ways to hide in the miniature shadows that formed, already starting to fill up with tourists.

Derek was...tired. I mean, he's been chronically tired for the last year, so this shouldn't surprise me, but nothing saps Derek's energy faster than lacking water and direct sun. He's like a basil plant. Immediate feedback if propped up with sustenance (which includes not waiting for me to take my ninetieth photo of a doorway). We walked out of the city into a tiny generic restaurant called Le Pinocchio, where overpriced drinks (with caffeine) brought Derek back to life.

Right inside the city is a giant scent laboratory and manufacturing plant, Parfumerie Fragonard. We decided now was as good a time as any to check it out, so we asked to join their next tour in English (it's free). We learned many interesting things, including that the French have an academy for nose palates (this does not surprise me). I learned that I'm mad competitive at the interactive program they provided to match aromas with the plants (like, I cared way too much about being right...I should see someone about this when I get back). Citrus is not orange blossom! And I know the difference! BE IMPRESSED.

They took us through the areas where they concentrate the perfume, then on to the bottling area, and finally landed us in the shop where we smelled their many variants for this season. Ile de amour was the best, though they were all lovely. Now we know why real perfume costs an arm and a leg. I considered buying some for someone, but as I said in an earlier post, we don't buy things for people. We love them, yes, but it just doesn't work for us. Even I knew my neck's ability to exude sex appeal wasn't worth what this costs. One day, we'll stop feeling like we need to hoard our pennies, but today is not that day.

JUST KIDDING! Today IS that day! Because what happened next was how we know that we're not cheap, we're just cheap about anything that isn't food or direct travel related. While up in Eze, we had seen over the cliffs below these manicured gardens and super fancy cars and very private areas, and we could not figure out how to get into them. One lawn had a fountain and animal statues, another a giant chess set. Over the parked cars that are worth more than my life (at least to a judge) was a green and gold night on a horse. This place isn't messing around. Then, we cracked the code. Chevre d’Or, the five star hotel where rooms are roughly a grand a night, serves lunch, outside, on the grandest balcony I've seen the world over. It means 'golden goat' in French, but what it really translates to in reality is fanciness.

We ducked into the hotel to ask about lunch, accidentally stumbling into their bar area. It was around 2:30, and even then they made it sound like they may not have an opening, so as we were waiting with the receptionist, considering to cut and run to at least enjoy the bar, she tells us, right this way! We have a table ready. But we personally weren't ready for what we were going to see.

They led us down and around and I don't know how or where we got to the terrace, but we were walking along, passing a glittering pool and incredible gardens and then we're given a spot right on the railings with the most incredible view. I nearly cried. And then we spent like we belonged there. Wine, bottled water, dessert - Derek ordered pizza with edible gold leaf on it! I had the bass with ratatouille (ha! peasant dish in this place! the nerve). When a wasp came to hover over my food, the waiter came with an electric wand to remove her from my presence.

I can't deal. I wander around with the biggest damned grin on my face, trying (and failing) to look like this is my every day life, that I'm not impressed. I head down to the other layers of balconies (for more pictures and to sunbathe between courses, naturally) to see someone with a super secluded balcony being filmed by an actual camera crew. Guys, this is the kind of place where famous people go to get away from non-famous people. How is this my life right now?!

We dragged our feet and stayed at the restaurant as long as we could manage before we slowly exited (with grace, no one had to drag me...but only because there were incredible sights to see on the way out through the gardens). We took a peek inside the church, the main focal point of the town, and ducked into a shop to buy some lavender and soap for some people we knew would actually appreciate it to the right level. 

Back to the bus. I can't stop smiling. My camera memory is bursting. And Derek is caffeinated and equally floored that this was our day. This place is the stuff of dreams.

In Monaco, we checked into our hotel and decided to catch a nap before rallying for an evening in this opulent town.

Villefranche Sur Mer

The night before our day trip to Villefranche sur mer and Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat we crafted a very nice itinerary based off Rick Steve's visit to the area. Regardless of any schedule, though, it would be impossible not to enjoy such a beautiful area. Villefranche personifies the quintessential, idyllic Riviera city, framing a bright blue harbor surrounded by steep cliff sides, and is immediately next to Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat,  which is itself a small peninsula favored by European aristocracy and the internationally super-wealthy as the vacation home destination of choice.

We elected to visit the peninsula first, and would tour the villa of the Ephrussi de Rothschild, lounge at Passable beach, and then make our way back to Villefranche by bus and wander around the city.

To get there we walked through Nice to Le Port, which is the area unsurprisingly by Nice's Port, and caught the bus. This was billed as, 'the most beautiful bus ride in the world,' and it didn't disappoint. As the bus climbed high above the water, we had a gorgeous view of Nice followed by stunning shots of Villefranche framed by turquoise water speckled with super yachts.

We got off at the stop by the the Ephrussi de Rothschild's villa and gardens. The delightful pink mansion was created by and for Baroness Beatrice de Rothschild, a wealthy heir of her family, and is framed by nine separate gardens, each with an international theme from the Baroness' world travels.

We started our tour of the estate by taking breakfast in the outdoor gardens surrounded by orange trees, which was even nicer than it sounds, and was completed by a pastry of our choosing from a decadent line-up.

Electing to tour the gardens first, we made our way through perfectly framed fountains, Japanese gardens, rose gardens, and past archways and gazebos, before sitting at the height of the gardens overlooking the estate back toward the mansion. We met a charming American artist traveling with two Italian friends who referred us to the beautiful Kerylos estate by the sea, which was crafting in honor of Ancient Greece. We would have loved to have made it there but sadly didn't end up fitting it into our schedule for the day. Next time!

After enjoying the gardens it was time to tour the estate. We walked through with the help of an audio guide and enjoyed looking at the Baroness' lovely home with dining areas, sitting rooms, master bedroom, closet, tapestries, artwork, and view from the balcony back over the gardens.

With Kendra, overwhelmed by how much she enjoyed it, and msyelf, ready for a break, we made our way down the hill to the very closeby Passable beach. In any other location it would be stunning, but having enjoyed the relative quiet and coastline view of the beach by Fort Carre', and with some clouds coming in, we ultimately cut our stay a little short. I did get to enjoy an open water swim though and Kendra's company is always delightful. With a lot of loud teenagers enjoying the beach, though, we joked that we should've taken the bourgeoisie approach and gone to the other side of the beach with the umbrellas and lounge chairs.

After cleaning up, we walked back up the steep hill and caught the bus back to town. We got off at the Octroi stop and simply walked downhill. We made our way to the south side of town and walked back toward the main waterfront via the La Citadelle pathway. Looking at the harbor filled with fancy yachts and the facades of the town, all in the light of sunset... man. What a great place.

We stopped at a restaurant along the waterfront called Spalato. We ordered a bottle of wine, and I was in charge of picking the appetizers so naturally I went with frites. Kendra thought that fromage would've complimented the wine better but hey, I saved us 8 Euros.

Interestingly our very polite waiter was Russian, and moved to France to study Chemistry and even pursue a career in medicine. It was nice chatting with him and I was excited to get to say a few phrases in Russian.

A little buzzed on wine, we wandered up the hill to find dinner among the little cafes that are hidden in the narrow alleyways of the town. We stumbled across Le Serre pizzeria. Each of their pizzas was endearingly named after a US state, but funnily enough without any real connection to the actual state's geography or culture (eg the Nebraska had seafood). It was delicious though and we filled ourselves to the brim.

That didn't stop us from getting gelato immediately afterward though because we can't help ourselves. We walked back down to the waterfront to take some more photos and just enjoy the ambiance one final time. We walked back up to the bus stop and were surprised to find the bus had stopped running. Shoot, we should've looked ahead of time but hey, this is a laissez-faire trip. We didn't have internet to order an Uber, but an awesome Australian couple nearby having dinner were the coolest and let us use their connection. They were teachers in Hong Kong and were visiting France before moving to teach in Africa. How cool.

Soon our Uber arrived and took us back in comfort to Nice. We made it back to our hotel and briefly joined the rooftop party at the rooftop Terrace before heading to bed, ready to travel to Monaco and Eze tomorrow.

If it's Monday, don't go to Antibes

We're ready to take on the Cote d'Azur! And our first move is to head west down the coast to Antibes.

Let's start with the most important thing - Antibes is pronounced AHNTEEB. Don't say "Anne-Tibbies" and expect anyone to respect you. Also, Cannes (pronouced "can") is not worth visiting, we've read. We didn't bother to go any further west on this trip.

We took the tram to the train station (after mistakenly going underground to underground parking...there is no subway, don't be like us). We stopped by a boulangerie near the station and grabbed pastries because this is France, and you need to maintain your American-ness in getting full on sugar for breakfast and never apologizing for it. Case in point: we had to spend 7 euro to use our credit card, and I had gotten tired of waiting in line to exchange our US dollars so we had no choice. When picking out the pastries, we saw an almond one, and when we pointed to it, the lady behind the counter told us that there were two version, this one, or another that was - you guessed it - filled with chocolate. Which would we prefer? Why do people ask stupid questions?

We were early to the train (for once!) and sat in a second class car. There are cabins (like on the Hogwarts Express) with 4 seats on each side of the bench and shelves above for your things. We sat near the entryway because an older French couple had already taken the window seat and. they. smelled. terrible. Nice enough looking people that had clearly never heard of deodorant. Later we were joined by a girl who could have been Emma Watson's sister (see? Hogwarts indeed) and her teacup size dog, and two other single ladies who were, as we all are, very focused on their phones. The train took around 45 minutes.

Our first goal was to try and see Fort Carré. We walked from the train station to the harbor and along the water front until we reached the fort. We began hiking around the front on Pointe Belaye on the dirt walkway and began to realize that we were on the wrong path. When we doubled back to the entrance, we were bummed to see that it was closed, as it was a Monday, and our planning wasn't foolproof as we had done it sparingly the night before.

So, in an effort to remain flexible, we crashed on the smooth rock beach at the base of the fort, Plage du Fort Carré, where old men were fishing and topless older women worked to further their skin's transformation to a deep brown leather. The water was beautiful, cool and warm at the same time, and very clear. The boats in the distance cut the blues that ran the sky and water together. There was a *shockingly* nice public outhouse (flushable toilet that is revolutionary - get it together, USA) where we could change, but I opted to change under my skirt and be a brave electric white foreigner by going topless until I managed to get my top on. I felt very brazen - so bold, so free, so scandalous! And literally no one noticed, or if they did, cared.

When we had baked long enough, we walked into town through narrow alleyways. We were seeking the Absinthe Bar near the provincial market. We had a chance to wander inside the shop and down the winding narrow staircase to the basement bar, which was totally empty. Maybe they'll be serving later? We'd come back later to find them closed. No idea why.

Next door, a happy coincidence, the Fromagerie l'Etable that we had been seeking! Because, cheese, obviously. Alas, it too was closed. Because it's Monday, and apparently, nothing good can ever happen on Monday. Zero for three. Ok, might as well try the other side of town.

We walked along the waterfront on the tall stone wall enveloping the city, waiting to "feel" where we wanted to eat. I like to get a good vibe about a place. If I'm not going to research it in advance, I want to just have a quaint meet-cute with a restaurant before I swipe right. That's when the waterfront Lebanese restaurant Le Phenicia winked at me. It was delicious! Derek and I shared chicken schwarmas with super fresh tabbouleh and homemade hummus with pine nuts.

We walked off our dinner wandering through the narrow streets and alleyways. A giant castle on the edge of town caught our attention several times - we later realized it was the Picasso museum. We're not big fans of his work (lame as that may be), but if you are, it's highly rated and likely very well done.

It was getting late, but we were on vacation! So to stretch our time out further, we plopped down in a bar with some other passionate locals to watch Morocco play Spain in a World Cup game. We enjoyed our beers and the loud, rambunctious explatives coming out of our comrades as the game ended in a tie. We enjoyed trying to pet the puppies (dogs are often off leash here) who were less than interested in any of us.

Back to the train station (walking in the dark is something we're used to, and Derek has a very keen sense of direction from all of the running and biking he does) which we navigated back to Nice sometime after 10 pm, and since our internal time clocks are so totally off kilter, to plan our next day.

Nice is nice!

Nice would be the take-off point for our week long French Riviera vacation of awesomeness. Sadly we got off to a slow start flying Air Canada (but that would just make the return trip on Lufthansa all the sweeter). We arrived in Nice's airport and had brought a decent amount of USD with us but elected not to change it into Euros since most places would take cards. We exited toward the bus station (pro tip: don't wait in line at the very slow counter to buy your ticket, just buy it with the driver but have reasonably close currency to the price) and caught the bus into downtown.

We stayed at the Hotel Plaza, which was an excellent combination of affordable, very conveniently located, and with nice rooms. Walking through the plaza adjacent to the promenade, we went to look at a fountain and actually ran into our friends Shannon and Hayley, whom we'd met in Laos like 9 years ago. We'd learned on Facebook that we'd be in Nice at the same time and had lined up to have dinner, but it was still pretty funny to physically run into each other on the other side of the world.

We dropped off our bags in the hotel and since our rooms weren't ready we changed in the bathroom. We each tried to bring nice Riviera-style outfits so that we wouldn't stand out as American tourists, and in retrospect I'd say we were pretty successful. Our feet did take a bit of a beating wearing nicer shoes and walking everywhere though (Kendra would look longingly at a Crocs store as early as day 2, but she looked fabulous).

We walked down along the beautiful promenade along the coast. Nice is the main jumping off point for the French Riviera and it served us really well, with easy bus and train access all along the coast. Our goal was to be based in Nice for the first few days and to see the adjacent, other-wordly beautiful towns of Antibes, Villefranche sur mer, and Eze. Today's itinerary though was just to enjoy Nice and make the most of our limited energy with jet lag.

We walked along the coast and took in the atmosphere. Coincidentally enough it was Ironman France (!), and we got to see the the transition zone which was teasingly right next to the plaza. We passed it (and the IronKids race they had going on as well, with children out there crushing it).

Nice's promenade is this lovely boardwalk along the coast. The Cote d'azure is an amazing combination of French culture and the Mediterranean Sea, with bright blue water framed by the gray pebble beaches complimented nicely by the French architecture. Lots of people were out and about on the promenade. We walked a ways down and then turned into the city. Though this part of Nice wasn't quite as charming as other areas, in classic French fashion we stumbled on a lovely boulangerie (bakery) and got a few croissants au chocolat. We tried and failed to order in authentic French but the baker very generously gave us a free lesson with a laugh.

We took our pastries to the waterfront and sat down, enjoying the beach and watching beachgoers. Making our way back toward the plaza and the Ironman transition zone, we stopped at Kudou Restraurant. We enjoyed a lazy hour or two drinking rose' and enjoying each other's company. We were able to watch the Ironman pros and age-groupers ride into transition, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and liked the restaurant so much that we ordered dinner. I had a delightful fish dinner while Kendra elected for a savory pasta dish.

Back to our hotel for a power nap before we'd planned to meet up with our friends Shannon and Hayley for a late dinner with drinks. Tragically and embarassingly we overslept, and on waking up booked it to the restaurant Mercado. Fortunately they were very gracious and had even figured that had happened, and we found them enjoying a glass of wine. We were able to grab a table and enjoy some tapas and catch up for a few really enjoyable hours; they're our personal heroes and are dedicated world travelers (for example, Hayley is on study abroad in Spain before moving to Australia, and Shannon is moving from Germany to Hawaii but is currently doing paragliding lessons all over Europe). 

Having had a wonderful dinner to cap off a quiet day in Nice, we made our way back to the hotel by the plaza. We were ready to catch some sleep before our next day in Antibes!