Home for Now – Dec. 31, 2012

As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side; a thought that edged into our minds as we sat in dog beds on the floor of our new rental home; driving day chips balanced on one knee and a Manhattan on the other.  We were in such a hurry to stop living in Salt we thought anything would be better—including an entirely empty rental home.  

Entirely.  

Empty.  

Yes, after our cocktails, we ate off of plastic plates, standing at the kitchen island and then crawled into our sleeping bags for the night.  (The Noses could not have been happier with this sleeping arrangement, although Rosco does prefer a tent be included.)

Amazing the amount of comfort that Salt could pack into 19’. 

We did indeed make it from Florida to Colorado where we dropped Salt and all the way out to Laguna Beach, California and back to Evergreen, Colorado before Christmas.  (For those of you keeping track, this amount of driving, done in less than two weeks, almost surpasses what we drove during our nine-month tour of Europe.)  It was a lot of driving but well worth it as we were able to see friends and family along the way and coordinate the shipment of our meager belongings from our 10x15 storage shed. 

While in Laguna, we opted to stay at the Casa del Camino Hotel.  Although comfortable and with excellent service, it is loud and rambunctious late into the evenings, so I don’t recommend it if you are looking for a quite seaside escape.  It is, however, perfect if you enjoy the hustle (every pun intended) of the Laguna Beach scene.

Back in Evergreen, Colorado, we are slowing adding to the comforts of home as the snow softly falls outside.  We are enjoying a fire in the hearth and The Noses staring up at the plush comfort of our new (to us) sofas; having just arrived today, we’ll see how long we can keep the dogs off.   Personally, I was sprawled out reading a book on the one we placed in a sunny corner within 30 minutes of their arrival.

Can this really be the end?  I think there must be one more Musings in me somewhere . . . perhaps for 2013.

-K

PS:  SP and I had a deal that the first one to get a job got to pick their in-home office.  I moved in yesterday, first day of work:  January 3, 2013. 

The Beginning of the End – Dec. 9, 2012

We’ve been back in the US for nine nights but we are finally home; a night in Salt at the very hospitable Duck Creek Campground just east of Paducah, Kentucky.  The rain is coming down in waves and we are enjoying a gin and driving day chips in our full hook-up spot a mere thirty yards from the fully fenced, large, grassy dog area.  (Those of you who have been reading through Europe know the importance of every word in that last sentence!)

We picked up Salt & Pepper from the docks in Jacksonville, Florida on Thursday morning and took them immediately to Camping World for Salt’s new LP tanks (we had to leave the others behind before shipping from Belgium.) Friday we drove to Savannah for a delightful night with some dear, but don’t call them old, friends.  That night was the first time we had spent the night in a house in over fifteen months.  Yes, there was the Paris apartment, but nothing compares to the solidity of a house; it was heavenly.   (Not to mention the Seabass roasted in banana leaves and chocolate bread pudding with German chocolate drizzle.  C'mon Man!)

Becoming friends with people from all over America is one of the greatest benefits of our previous careers; after that wonderful night on Skidaway Island we were treated to another divinely home-cooked meal and night’s rest suffused by southern hospitality with friends in Atlanta.  Don’t get me started on the Butterfinger pie—lord I need some time to get some exercise!  The Noses especially loved this stop as they were provided with a fully-fenced back yard.  Complete with Teasing Squirrels. 

Now we are headed to Colorado almost as fast as Pepper can pull us all.  We will have two nights in St. Louis allowing one day for me to fly to Boston and back for a job interview.  After that it is Colorado, Baby!

-K

PS:  The picture above is of Rosco on Main Beach in the city of Fernandino Beach on Amelia Island, Florida.

Musings – On Returning to the USA

As John Denver would say, “Gee it’s good to be back home again”, if only we had the farm that he sings of in the next sentence we would be in absolute heaven.  But with no farm and, as of this writing, no Salt & Pepper, we find ourselves at the Comfort Suites on Amelia Island, Florida awaiting US Custom’s release of our beloved rolling home.

The flight back came off without any trouble despite the stress and panic clearly reflected in both Rosco’s and my eyes.  If you ever get the opportunity to fly Air France La Premier out of Charles de Gaulle, by all means take it.  The exceptional service starts upon your arrival at the terminal:  Before you even check in, they have a lounge waiting for you where they sit you (and your dogs) down in plush leather chairs (ok, The Noses remained on the carpet) while they arrange your boarding passes and check in your luggage.  If you happen to have Tax Free items that need to clear customs, they walk you through the back doors and into a private Customs office where your documents are all stamped post-haste.  This is the way to travel!

The flight seemed to take forever as I was worried about Rosco, but eventually we landed in Atlanta and they delivered the Alive (!) But Shell-Shocked Noses to us near the baggage carousel.  Atlanta is a wonderful place in which to arrive from an international flight:  The customs and immigration lines are almost non-existent (unlike, LA, San Francisco or NY) and the southern hospitality simply engulfs you as you disembark.  Indeed, our luggage porter knew just where to take the dogs for agricultural clearance and then led us directly outside to the pet area.

As the old New Austerity hadn't caught back up with us yet, we stayed two nights at the Westin in Buckhead getting a quick but deep dive back into the commercial aspects of living in America.  With streets full of Porsches and sidewalks full of people with large shopping bags we knew we were home.  Being all shopped out from Paris, we saved our money for Manhattans and wine in the lobby bar where The Noses were a huge hit and the wine was over $15 a glass.  Au revoir vin du maison at $2 a glass! 

One five hour drive later we find ourselves on the aforementioned Amelia Island in the delightful small coastal town of Fernandino Beach, just 30 minutes from the docks where Salt & Pepper await Customs clearance.  With any luck they will clear within a day or two, then it’s a quick jaunt into Camping World for the installation of new LP cylinders (had to remove them for the shipment home) before heading to Colorado.

And more John Denver:  All together now, “Colorado Rocky Mountain hiii-yiiii.”

-K

PS:  As expected, The Noses weren't even examined upon our arrival into Atlanta.  The officer looked at their Pet Passports, specifically noting the rabies vaccination, and that was the extent of it.  Likewise, we slipped right on through Passport control in France despite our Schengen violation.  

Paris – Week Three – Nov. 11-18, 2012

More pictures here!

Since our guests have begun to arrive and that will mean even less time for posting I thought I would focus this post on what might be useful information if you happen to come to this area of Paris.

First of all, the apartment at 74 Rue de Rennes is perfectly situated:  Two bus lines stop just outside the door; the 95 takes you to the Louvre and ultimately up to Montmartre and the 96 heads over to the Ile de la Cite, Notre Dame, and points further north-east.  Of course, they both link up to multiple lines which will take you anywhere.  (The bus system in Paris is wonderfully easy to navigate.)  Also just outside the door is the St. Sulpice Metro Station if you are more inclined to get somewhere quickly but in a much less scenic manner.

I prefer to walk most places and this area of St. Sulpice remains my favorite.  Having experienced walking through the Latin Quarter, over to the Ile de la Cite, to the Louvre and Tuileries among other hot spots, I can say walking along the more quiet streets of St. Sulpice, particularly on the way to Luxembourg Garden, is my choice for just enjoying the streets of Paris.  With the occasional small cafe, unique shops and fewer fast-paced Parisians it is a stroller’s paradise.

Of note, you can also walk to tennis at the Luxembourg Gardens from this location.  There is an office near the courts where you put in your name to get a court (usually no wait, but plan on arriving near the top of the hour); €8 per hour.  When it is busy they limit you to half an hour but this has only happened to us once (remember, we are here in November.)

Fashion and shopping is, of course, everywhere with many stores repeating their presence often and in close proximity (Zadig, Kenzo, Princess Tam Tam, Aubade) but if you need a belt, be sure and stop in at Losco.  They have belts of every size, shape, color and skin; first you pick your belt and then you chose from hundreds of buckles, from the simple to the grandiose, and the lovely lady puts it all together while you wait.  With a Parisian’s eye for fashion, her assistance is most helpful.

Another great discovery was the open market at the intersection of Boulevard Raspail and Rue de Rennes (200 meters from the flat); Wednesday, Friday and Sunday mornings with Sunday being the “Bio” day (organic produce.)

Finally, we attended a Chopin concert at Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre, the oldest church in Paris.  A small venue, it was delightful to be so close to the pianist and to hear the music flowing around the pillars and saturating the stone walls of the church.  Although I learned of the concert via a flyer outside of Notre Dame, tickets and more information can be found on the Concert in Paris website. 

-K

PS:  If you find yourself needing a great lunch spot while visiting Notre Dame, walk over to the Ile St. Louis and dine at the very French and very enjoyable Café St. Regis.

PPS:  If you are wondering about Rosco's photo above, I took it because he is constantly called TinTin, particularly by the Asian tourists who clamor to have their picture taken with him (much to River's chagrin.)

Paris – Week II – Nov. 5-11, 2012

A few more pictures here!

During Week II we made it a point to get out and about more and we discovered, of course, fine art, great food, busy tourist-weary Parisians and, happily, that there are a lot of Americans in Paris. 

What?  Kit and Alan are happy to see Americans abroad?  That is impossible! 

It is official, we have become Those People.  It used to be that when we traveled abroad we hated being seated next to other Americans; after all, we didn’t travel so far to overhear the same conversations, in the same accents, that we could while sitting at home.  But after nine months in Europe (and over a year with just each other to talk to) we are happy to hear an American voice.  And so we have become Those People:  The ones who sit beside you and engage you in conversation.  The ones we would have avoided like the plague if we were here on a short vacation.  Mon dieu.

As for the tourist-weary Parisians?  They can be a bit rude as evidenced by the day we were window shopping along the Boulevard St. Germain when a lady, and I use that term generously, and I nearly collided.  I looked up (and up and up—she was well over six feet tall) finally finding her face into which my, “Excusez moi” froze onto a field of ice.  It was like looking into the eyes of a cobra.  A cobra with a long, long nose.  She did not smile, she did not move, she only sent a penetrating chill down my spine.

But this has not been our experience of French people in general.  Americans typically think of the French as rude and vice versa; however, many Americans experience the French in Paris and Paris alone.  That is like experiencing Americans in Manhattan.  Most of our time outside of Paris the French people were welcoming, helpful, and interested in making our experience of their country extraordinary; much like you might find in Texas or California.  But Parisians?  Mais non.  To Parisians, like Manhattan-ites, tourists are nothing more than speed bumps; dark grey lumps designed to slow your progress. 

And so typically we don’t get the cheery, “Bonjour!” to which we had become accustomed in the small towns; although when I am out on the early morning constitutional with The Noses we often get mistaken for locals (who else would have two terriers in Paris?) and garner more welcoming nods and even a few, “Bon matin”s—but not until they are finished with their effusive greeting of The Noses.

Taking the advice of a friend of SP’s (P1), we ventured out to dinner at Le Relais de l’Entrecote and what an experience that was!  Insider information was again very helpful:  Armed with knowledge that there is always a line at the door (opens at 7, no reservations) we arrived at 6:45 and joined the queque.  P1 also prepared us for the only three questions we were to be asked that evening:  How do you like your meat cooked?  What do you want to drink?  And, What would you like for dessert?

You sit where they indicate, answer the three questions (the house red wine is quite good and a bargain at €17/bottle) and wait for the food to arrive.  First up is a fresh, simple green salad with a fantastic dressing.  Then the steak arrives, sliced and served from a large platter, followed quickly by a delicious light cream sauce on top of which the pommes frites float invitingly.  They keep an eye on you and as soon as the first helping is done they are at your side with more steak and frites.  Both are so delicious it is difficult to stop.  P1 recommended the profiteroles for dessert, but I opted for the crème brulee (I am afraid they used the torch, a staple in US restaurants which I had hoped was banned in France) and SP had the peach melba.  Next time we will follow P1’s suggestions all the way through.  Oh yes, there will be a next time.

Alas, there is more to Paris than shopping and food and one day we even managed to get to the Louvre.  Thankfully the lines are gone and we were able to walk directly to the ticket counter (opting for the machines) and then into the museum.  It was still plenty crowded particularly around the popular ladies (Ms. Lisa, Ms. Milo.)  I don’t profess to be an art expert but I know what I like and I was completely uninspired by both ladies.  However, the plasticity (and yes, I have been waiting since my Humanities 101 class in college to use that delicious word in context and so will do so again) the plasticity found on many other sculptures was simply incredible:  The drape of the robes looked so soft and realistic I thought it entirely possible to just reach out and make a slight wardrobe adjustment.  My favorite area of the Louvre, so far, was the seemingly outdoor sculpture garden; although I am reserving judgment until my next visit during which I will find my way to Napoleon’s Apartments.

As for The Noses?  I can’t say Paris is their favorite spot:  They spend an awful lot of time indoors or on leash weaving through crowds of people while trying not to get their eyes gouged out by the corners of expensive shopping bags.  Our morning walks are a highlight for all three of us as they get some off-leash time in the Palace Gardens during which Rosco digs for moles in the shrubbery and River simply runs as fast as she can in any direction, often complete circles.  We follow that up with a short off-leash walk along the Seine before leashing up and walking through the crowded shopping streets back to the flat.  

Paris, in general, is welcoming to The Noses although they were disallowed from the public bus for being too large.  (With the crowds that are often crammed onto the busses, I don’t blame them for not wanting dogs that cannot be held on a lap.)  We have seen larger dogs on the Metro but I can’t get enthused about navigating a turn-style with a terrier.  We have had no trouble bringing them into restaurants but the tables are so small and close together that even sticking them underneath doesn’t really work.  So we opt to give them their exercise, leave them sleeping in the flat, and then go out and enjoy some human time. 

Coming next week:  Kit finishes updating her wardrobe and a visit to the Musee D’Orsay and then . . .  Guests!

-K

Musings – On Shipping S&P and The Noses Home

If I have blogged this once, I have blogged it a million times:  Experiences get so much easier the second time around.   Below is a table of decision points and or actions we had to take in order to transport Salt & Pepper and The Noses to Europe and back:  (For more details on the US to UK portion, please see the US2UK label in the "Postings by Labels" section of the blog.)

Issue	To Europe Decision	From Europe Decision
With whom do we ship Salt & Pepper?	SP spent weeks corresponding with multiple shipping agents and analyzing their answers to 10 standard questions before deciding on Hill Shipping from the UK.	One email to Hill Shipping asking for our European port options.
What can travel inside Salt & Pepper?	This was one of SP’s 10 standard questions and the answers were all over the map from “what would normally be in a camper” to “nothing that isn’t screwed in.”  We left nothing in either vehicle; spending over a thousand dollars on extra baggage charges (ten large, check bags) and storage upon our arrival in London Heathrow.	Everything remained inside except for clothes and toiletries.
Dropping Salt & Pepper at the docks for shipment.	We arrived at the appointed time in Galveston, Texas and were escorted to the parking spot.  We spent about 30 minutes with S&P taking our last looks before the agent drove us, and our aching hearts, off the dock.	We arrived, unannounced, a day ahead of (our own) schedule in Zeebrugge, Belgium.  The clerk at the desk allowed us to drive onto the dock and leave S&P despite not having all the required paperwork with us (it was still pending from Hill Shipping.)  We walked off the dock about five minutes later.  Only looking back once.
The Noses	My posting for exporting The Noses from the US can be found here.  A quick refresher:  Four visits to two different vets, one visit to the APHIS office in Austin, Texas = many, many days, and lots and lots of money spent on the endeavor.  Top it off with a bill for over $1,700 PER NOSE to fly them on British Airways.	One visit to a vet located two blocks from the Paris flat.  $150 per Nose to fly them on our Air France flight home.

It seems everything is easier:  Part of it is just doing business in Europe where there is not such a strict set of rules governing everything (or people just feel more free to work around them to serve a higher purpose); prior experience, as mentioned above, helps in every situation; and, I am hoping, a new attitude on our part has taken hold.  Life is too short to sweat the small stuff—or even the big stuff over which you have no control.

-K

Paris - The First Week - Oct. 28-Nov 4, 2012

More Pictures Here!

Having dropped Salt & Pepper off a the docks in Zeebrugge, Belgium, we had nothing left to do but to settle contentedly into our Paris flat.  Much larger than anticipated, it is a joy to be able to walk through multiple rooms without touching anything (or anyone or any dog.)

The flat is situated on the Rue de Rennes, two blocks from the St. Sulpice Lions (and of course the church, but I much prefer the Lions) which we visit at least twice a day as it is the first available dirt for The Noses' constitutional runs.  People in Paris barely notice when your dog does his business on the sidewalk (as long as you have a bag) but we still make them walk the walk to the dirt.  Incidentally, the sidewalks remain quite clean due to the rain and the street cleaning machines; the machines have an expandable hose which is carried along the sidewalk, washing down the stones and sending the water to the gutter and the awaiting machine. Very nice.

We spent our time during the first week walking The Noses around the Seine, Tuilleries, Luxembourg Gardens, renting bikes to visit the Eiffel Tower and two important stores about 5 KM away:  Decathalon (yoga mats) and Animalis (dog crates and beds.)

For some reason (and I am afraid to ask why lest it ends) SP has taken on the cooking duties which leaves me plenty of time for more shopping and Nose walking.  The Noses aren't thrilled with Paris; being on-leash or locked in the bedroom while we are out alone, but at least they can roam freely through the flat when we are all lazing around.  And what a luxury that is:  To read a book on a sofa in a Paris flat!  A sofa!  Paris!

Can't promise that my next posting will be any more interesting . . . we have a bit of routine down and it is heavy on the exercise (tennis in Luxembourg Gardens, P90X, walking, biking) to combat the Pain aux Raisins and just enjoying the fact that we can move through a city at our leisure and without a vehicle.  And take hot showers.

-K

Beaune, France – Oct. 21-26, 2012

More (not terribly interesting) pictures here!

On good advice from a great friend, we spent our final days with Salt & Pepper cruising around the picturesque Bourgogne region, carefully balancing our need to taste wine with our need to make it to the next stop.  Upon arrival in Beaune, the weather was cold and rainy so we decided to start out with a few hours underground in the Marche aux Vins.

We opted for the self-guided tour through multiple wine tasting stations but didn’t find much that interested us until we sat down with Laurent in a private room and he pulled out the really good stuff.  We typically enjoy a heavier wine than is found in the Burgandy region but Laurent managed to find enough interesting Pinots and even a few whites for us to send a case back home.

The following day we had a tasting appointment at La Cave L’Ange Guardien where we were charmed by Pierre, a delightful host who introduced us to many wines from the region (and one from the Cote du Rhone) as their own had been sold out for the season.   We ended up shipping home two cases, one entirely of a Rare Brut Cremant; well, 11 of the Cremant and one bottle of Cassis in order to duplicate the delicious Kir Royale which ended our tasting.  Rushing from the tasting we barely had time to change before making our reservation at Le Cheval Noir where our fantastic meal (with wine parings) was marred by the poor service.

We took a night away from Salt and drove up through the hills leaving the Cote de Beaune area for the Cote de Nuits and spending a night at the Hotel de Vougeot in the village of, you guessed it, Vougeot.  The weather was an uncooperative low-cloud misty Seattle kind of day which almost erased the awe factor in the sightseeing department.  We were hoping a visit to the Chateau Vougeot would shed some light on the many Grand Crus we had sent home from this region, but, alas, the Chateau is now just a museum.

With our sights set on our Paris flat, and Pepper loaded with wines for the month, we headed up to Paris staying four nights at the perfectly located Camping Bois de Boulogne.  Knowing we had a month ahead of us to “do” Paris from the comfort of a warm flat, we used all our days at the campground to prep Salt & Pepper for their boat trip home—more on that in the next Musings. 

I am quite behind in my blog postings but having arrived in our flat all I can find time to do is walk and walk and walk.  Ok, and shop.  And shop.  And maybe just one more shop.

-K

Scenic Drive Movie - Col du Petit St. Bernard, Italy & France - Oct. 2012

Better late than never (yes, I am way behind in my posts but now that we are sequestered away in our charming Paris flat, I should begin to catch up!) 

A scenic drive across the Col du Petit St. Bernard from Italy into France, including a quick look at a mobile milking station!

-K

Bourg St. Maurice, French Alps, France – Oct. 14-18, 2012

More pictures here!

It was our first return stop on the Aventura and it felt like home.  What a difference it makes to an experience to be surrounded by the familiar; everything seemed so easy.  Automatically we knew where to find our favorite bread, groceries, phone recharging stores and hiking maps. 

And we knew just where to stay; our favorite campground, L’Eden de la Vanoise.  Unfortunately they had closed for the shoulder season (between summer and winter) preparing to reopen in mid-December.  So we parked Salt at the near empty Camping Le Versoyan and enjoyed the ability let the Noses run free right from the door and into the miles of hiking paths just outside the gate.  This campground also has the benefit of being right in Bourg; walking to town took only 15 minutes.

And what a treat to see our beloved French Alps changed into fall colors!  The bright green up the alpine pastures had moved into a lovely gold with the trees at lower elevations showcasing various colors from bright yellow to deep red.  It was beautiful particularly after the first snowfall which arrived on our first night and stayed for three days in the higher elevations.

Having spent so many glorious hours in the mountains last July we were anxious to get back up there.  Opting for a new valley, we headed toward Val D’Isere stopping at Bon Conceil to begin our hike to Le Monal, a protected hamlet delightfully set in the most stunning valley we have yet come across; a Must See if you are in this area.  (You might be relieved to know that our back country trips are now over so you will no longer have to read the phrase, “the most stunning valley we have yet come across”--at least until we arrive in Colorado.) 

We spent our second hiking day driving all the way to Val D’Isere, a ski town much like all the others throughout these valleys, but striking once you leave the town and head toward the Vanoise National Park.  Sadly, dogs are not allowed in the park so we failed to get much hiking done, but we did stop at the Lac du Chevril on the way home and pulled out four (yes four!) trout-looking fish (their aqua blue backs when in the water almost instantly changed to midnight blue when on land making me think they might be Artic Char.)  I simply labeled them Delicious.

With our Paris flat beaconing and the burgundy wine region still ahead we could only stay four nights.  Next stop Beaune, and the various wineries surrounding the area.

-K

Lezise, Courmayeur, & the Italian Alps – Oct. 9-13, 2012

More pictures here!

Having only 17 days left with Salt & Pepper in the European portion of the Aventura (we have a glorious month in a Paris flat to look forward to while S&P are shipping home) we have decided to focus on what we love:  Wine and mountains.

So we left Levanto and headed north-east to Lezise, Italy, near the heart of the Valpolicella wine region.  We only lasted two nights at Camping du Parc on Lake Garda (why is everything still so crowded in October?  With children no less—what happened to school?) but two nights was long enough to take a delightful car tour of the wine region and a short hike to the self-proclaimed longest natural bridge, you be the judge (that is River on the path):

Unlike wine regions in France and the USA with their prolific “free tasting” signage, Italy has not learned how to attract a non-Italian speaking tourist.  The map we picked up at the very helpful tourist information site should have led us to the doors of at least three vineyards but we only found our way to one:   The perfect Fratelli Vogadori.  Run by three brothers and their father who still works in the field; all the grapes are grown completely naturally, no pesticides or chemical fertilization and their wines are produced solely from their own grapes.  SP was in heaven with their two types of Amarone and I loved their Ricioto, a dessert wine much like Port but made 100% from grapes.

Wine in hand, we headed north to Courmayeur, at the base of Mt. Blanc.  What a gorgeous spot!  And Camping Arc en Ciel was a slice of heaven; two of the three nights we were completely alone in our long row of thick green grass.  You know how I love green grass!  I hardly ever go into detail on campgrounds in the posting (remember, you can see more campground details on the Campground page) but this was a lovely spot and the hosts were as helpful and charming as they come. 

We hiked twice; a short one to Lake Arpy which was beautiful even on a cloudy and cold day and a longer one up Val Ferret.  Let me tell you, if we spoke the language we would have bought our farmhouse right there in that valley—it was stunning:  Flanked by the Alps, centered with a river and to each side slightly rolling hills highlighted with trees blazing in their fall colors.  Delightful! 

Italians have been the most profusive when it comes to appreciating Salt & Pepper often sounding a joyful honk followed by a hearty wave and thumbs up as they pass us.  So one evening, as I was leaving the grocery store, I was not surprised to see a Crusty standing outside gazing toward the Pepper, slowly shaking his head and repeating, “Bella, bella, bella.”  I prepared my knowing (and hopefully gracious) smile as I approached the car only to look just beyond Pepper to Mt. Blanc, angelic and massive, posing in the sunset.  I turned to the Crusty who again shook his head and repeated, “Bella, bella, bella.” 

Bella, indeed.  I have seen a lot of mountains, and even Mt. Blanc from France, but nothing compares to Mt. Blanc as seen from Italy.  No wonder these Italians are so happy.

-K

DITL - Cinque Terre Hike, Italy - Oct. 8, 2012

Well we did it:  We visited two other Cinque Terre towns and saw one from a boat, so that makes four out of five.  They are interesting but crowded; if you are ever in the area and miss an American accent, just hop into one of the towns and you'll be happy.

By far the highlight was the hiking from Corneglia to Manarola, up and through and down the hills.  (The coastal route remains closed due to landslides.)  For this we have a Day in the Life video - a little long, but there was so much beauty it was difficult to cut.

-K

PS:  This posting finds us in Courmayeur, Italy at the base of Mt. Blanc awaiting the first snowfall of the season!

Levanto, Italian Riviera – Sept. 30 - Oct. 5, 2012

More pictures here!

They say you find what you are looking for when you stop looking; this proved to be true for us in Italy.  Giving up on finding charming, out of the way places we headed to Cinque Terre and discovered . . . the rest of the tourists.   Luckily, sometimes the restrictions of Salt bring about unexpected joys:  Unable to drive Salt down the roads leading into the five townships that comprise Cinque Terre (contrary to Wikipedia, Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet internet reviews, you can indeed drive into these towns, albeit with a car and not a caravan) we opted to camp just north along the coast in Levanto.

As it turns out we discovered our own little heaven.  There are some tourists here, but not nearly the hordes that converge along the five Cinque Terre towns.  Indeed, our one day at the northern-most town, Monterossa, was more than enough for me:  Having to dodge tour guides hoisting their herding flags as they led their slow-moving groups from photo op to photo op and over-paying for under-flavored “Italian” food was more than I could bear.  Thankfully, this memory was displaced by our hike home to Levanto which proved to be long, but wonderful, along the edge of the sea.

What promised to provide the largest portion of the Cinque Terre charm for us, the coastal hike connecting the five towns, was closed due to landslides and continued rainfall.  One section, the Via Dell’Amore, has been closed since 2011; the other four more recently, and hopefully, temporarily.  You can still drive to all the towns as well as train or ferry but having seen the one and, more importantly, having found our own coastal dream towns (yes, there are two!) we saw no need to drive, train or boat in order to enjoy what this coast has to offer.  (Note that you can also still walk between the towns, just not on the coastal route; these other trails often involve sharing roads with automobiles not making for a very enjoyable outing.)

So Levanto . . . larger than Monterossa, filled with great little shops (local wine, cheese, bread, fish and non-local Armani), and topped off with a good dose of Crusties, we are in heaven.  Include in the list hill walks through olive groves and a gorgeous coastal walk to the even more charming town of Bonnasola, and I believe we have discovered how the Italians enjoy Cinque Terre:  From anywhere else along the Riviera.

There is one downside to this lovely spot; the bell tower goes off 24-hours a day on the quarter hour; with chimes for the hour as well as the quarter hour it is quite the bell-fest.  So, even at say, 3:30 in the morning, you get three chimes in one note (Ding, Ding, Ding) indicating the hour and then two chimes in another note (Dong, Dong) indicating 2x15 minutes.  Nothing keeps me awake more than laying there listening to my life chime away 15 minutes at a time.  No pressure.  The worst is 12:45—it barely finishes before the singular chime of 1:00; it is difficult, however, not to enjoy the classic Ding, Dong chime of 1:15—although I much prefer hearing the PM rendition.  They make up for this annoyance by having the most inviting Cocktail Chime promptly at 5:00 p.m. (coming soon to a DITL Video.)  Now The Noses and I all begin to salivate at 5:01.

Other than that, this is the location we thought all Aventura locations would be like.  It is an easy walk from Camping Aqua Dolce into the town for groceries and each afternoon one of us will make the journey, finding something to make for dinner.  As previously mentioned, hiking is in abundance as is swimming in the sea and two lovely tennis courts.  SP has rented a bike on two occasions and I’m not sure who is more happy, he or River.  River’s new joy is to run along beside the bike—something we started her on in Slovenia; unfortunately not as convenient here due to the increase in bicycle and pedestrian traffic.  But when she can she does and when she can’t she cries as he peddles away.  (He, and I for that matter, can walk away all day long and she won’t bother to lift her head [as long as Rosco is with her], but get SP on the bicycle without her and you’d think she was about to die.)

SP would like to visit one more Cinque town because he just can’t believe the amount of hype surrounding what seem to be five not un-common towns along this coast and I would like to see them from the sea, so perhaps we’ll get on that ferry after all.  Until then,

Ciao!

-K

PS:  You may notice in the campground pictures the abundance of trees and the lack of space; we had quite a time parking Salt and may not have succeeded without the help of our neighbors.  We will need their help again to get out as we cannot leave unless the camper next to us vacates his spot.  Even at this “low season” time of year, the campground is filled to capacity each night—often with a great amount of daily turnover.   Timing will be essential.  

Scenic Drive - Slovenia

Despite sitting outside Cinque Terre (in the lovely town of Levanto), thought I'd throw-back to August and post a short scenic drive video filmed as we entered Slovenia.  

-K

Florence, Italy – Sept. 27-28, 2012

A couple of more pictures here.

The trouble with staying in a five-star hotel is that you never want to leave.  Your room.  Ever.  Even for a minute.  Add a balcony overlooking one of the most visited sites in Florence, Ponte Vecchio, and you can see why we rarely got out of the Lungarno Hotel's thick terry robes and slippers.

But we did get out:  We bumped our way along the crowded, narrow and often smelly streets (so many dogs and very rarely any grass or trees!) to visit Il Davide (not The David), the jewelry shops on Ponte Vecchio, the Boboli Gardens (“No Dogs!”) from the outside and discovered an out of the way vegetarian restaurant that was divine, 5 e Cinque.  (Black cabbage sautéed in olive oil and garlic is now often on our Salt menu.)

Thursday afternoon, while enjoying hors d’oeuvres in a small, family run café next to the hotel, the owner approached the table displaying cuts of cheese on his palm.  He wanted to share the cheeses with The Noses.  We politely declined, trying to communicate that they are not allowed to be fed from the table (this is why everyone thinks they are so wonderful in restaurants; all The Noses know about being there is that they have a temporary dog house under the table for an hour or so); he returned to the kitchen heart-broken and maybe even a little disgusted. 

On our way out, I mentioned that they could have some cheese now, near the street.  He fed and fed them until, fearing a night filled with intestinal reprisals, I called it to an end.  To show our appreciation, I “shot” Rosco and he immediately fell over and played dead.  Love that trick!  The owner was delighted.

Upon leaving the hotel, the owner of the café saw us piling into Pepper (don’t get me started on driving Pepper through Florence!); running over he aimed his hand through the back window and tried to shoot Rosco.  With no cheese at hand, Rosco declined a repeat performance.

And so we put Florence in the package with Venice:  Return without Noses and when we might have more patience for standing shoulder to shoulder, back to front, trying to ignore a stranger’s breath on our necks, in order to gaze at wonderful art.

This posting finds us sitting in Campeggio Acqua Dolce in Levanto, Italy, just outside of Cinque Terre.  A torrential rain is upon us and we aren’t sure if we will be able to maneuver our way out of our pitch unless everyone else in the row leaves.  (I would not be surprised if there is a YouTube video floating around of us getting into the pitch—our repeat performances continued for quite some time after which we needed something much stronger than cheese.) 

Thankfully, Salt’s roof is leak-free, the rain is due to stop in a day or so and we are surrounded by breath-taking seaside and mountain hiking opportunities.  We can hardly wait to get out there, although many of the main paths between the towns are closed due to a landslide.  Yes, Mobom, we'll be careful.

-K

Lido di Nazionali & Comacchio, Italy – Sept. 19-20, 2012

More pictures here!

Our great expectations of the Adriatic Coast combined with the promise of a full service pitch had us driving in thinking that we may have to stay in Lido delle Nazioni until Camping Tahiti closed five days later.    We were out of there in two nights.

First for the campground:  We should have prophesied the end of our visit when Reception asked for our wrists in order to attach non-removable plastic bracelets. We are not the plastic bracelet kind of people.  We much prefer that business take it upon themselves to remember who is a paying guest and who is not.  On the plus side, our pitch came with its own private toilet, shower and outdoor dish sink which were nice; unfortunately the star attraction was the millions of mosquitoes.  We were eaten alive.

As for the coast, the area is run down and not very inviting.  The seaside is almost completely segmented into private beaches (Campground Tahiti has one of them), their entrances protected with chain link fences, making a walk along the coast seem like you are venturing around a prison yard.  With a storm brewing, the Adriatic wasn’t beaconing either and thus we spent our one full day in the area playing tennis (terrible courts), visiting the Thermal Spa (not nearly hot enough for this time of year) and dining in the nearby village of Comacchio (easily the jewel of our stop.)

In Comacchio we found Crusties and lots of them.  Crusties is a name I gave to all the old men in Barcelona:  They looked like they had spent their lives on the sea and could not get used to walking on the stable earth.  As in Barcelona, the Crusties of Comacchio gaze out of their unflappable eyes, gesticulated wildly, discussing lord only knows what.  Commachio is full of them.  I managed to get two of them in a photo of the town, but you have to look carefully—I didn’t want to be obvious.

Along with the Crusties came a good dose of authentic Italian life.  At cocktail time (Prosecco and local olives) the Crusties gathered for their drinks and smokes while there was never a woman to be seen.  We figured the women were home making dinner.  I have rarely wanted to speak another language so much in my life:  Oh to eavesdrop on their conversations!  What do they talk about with such excitement hour after hour after hour?

With nothing garnering our attention more than swapping at the mosquitoes, we knew we had to get back on the road and thus headed deeper into Italy and into another country; San Marino.  Nothing beats mosquitos like the oldest republic in the world.

-K

PS:  For those of you wondering how in the world we could drive by Venice twice without stopping, I give you this:  We try to visit the out of the way places on this trip.  Venice can be easily toured without your own transportation and most likely much more enjoyable without your own dogs.   If you have not been there but are planning a trip, prepare yourself for some of the ugliest scenery in the world on your drive from the airport to the water taxis.  The area is a marsh-land (hence the mosquitoes) and covered with low-rise industrial buildings. 

Bled, Slovenia – Sept. 12-17, 2012

More pictures here!

With so much to love about this area of Slovenia, it seems odd to rank our pitch at the top of the list; such is the life in a 19’ Airstream.  

As I alluded to in my prior post, we were in heaven the minute we drove into Camping Sobec:  Gentle paved roads through the half empty, pine-forest campground led us to our pitch, #123.  We happily set up camp at the end of a road while gazing at the open fields around us.  This spot did not have the elements of a comfort pitch (specifically water and drainage) but it had its own luxury item:  Privacy; couple that with the ability to just open the door in the morning and let The Noses run, it was perfection.

Then we drove into Bled.

Wow.  We have seen some picturesque sites on our journey but Bled easily tops the list of picturesque towns.  To think that prior to talking to a Europcar rental agent in England, we had never even thought of visiting Slovenia just makes me realize how large and varied the earth is and how limited our ability to appreciate it.  

Due to the rainy weather, the tourist office recommended a hike into Vintgar Gorge for our first full day in the area.  It was as gorgeous as promised but I imagine it would be breathtaking with some direct sun to light up the aqua river.  We continued up to the Plateau area hoping it would contain wide open vistas over to the Alps but the area was also tree-filled (and, having gained in elevation, very cold – 6/42!)  We dropped down the other side of the plateau to Lake Bohinj which is more rustic and natural than Bled but not nearly as picturesque. 

Our most memorable day was when SP rented a bike and I walked The Noses from the campground, meeting up in Bled for lunch.  A delightful day!  Sadly followed by a night in which SP became violently ill (we think from some bad water) and all of a sudden we were back to wishing for the luxuries of water and drainage over privacy.

Actually, we were wishing for all three.

-K

Dobriach, Austria Part 2 – Sept. 5-11, 2011

More pictures here!

It is not often that we find ourselves in one spot for three weeks.  In order for this to happen the stop has to either have in-pitch drainage (known over here as a comfort pitch) or be so stunning that moving Salt out and back for dumping is not considered a chore.  It turns out that Camping Brunner am See in Dobriach, Austria offered the perfect combination:  Stunning comfort.

We had no preconceived notions about this area; as previously reported, we headed up to Austria to escape the heat of Slovenia and took the first campground claiming a comfort pitch.  Maybe it was due to the lack of preconception but the area’s beauty stunned us into a languor that suited our vacation-mode attitudes.  Really, you can get quite spoiled (and fat) when you hardly have to move in order to see an awe-inspiring view.  Thankfully the area offers easy access to tennis, hiking, biking and swimming otherwise my waistline would be in much worse shape.  (Have I mentioned my addiction to the local pretzel bread?)

Also as previously reported, the crowds initially diminished after the third week of August.  We had almost a week during which we thought the campground would remain half-full and thus we didn’t worry about turning Salt around (remember, we are still parked in such a way that, if people moved in across the drive from us we would not be able to get out.)

To our dismay, starting around the first of September, the leisurely unemployed (or just the smart European vacationers) starting filling up the campground; with an average age closer to 70 than 7, they are, thankfully, a much more peaceful group than the young families.  However, watching the pitches fill, we quickly realized that our inability to move Salt had returned.

So one day during the Great Migration (the incoming and outgoing of the motorhomes during this time was tremendous:  Every day at least a dozen came and went) we spotted an opportunity to turn Salt around.  We hitched her up (much to the delight of many watchful eyes), drove her further down the row, turned left, pulled through two spots, backed up into another spot and completed our three point turn; pulling back into our pitch with Salt’s nose facing toward the exit.  We could now leave at will.  Well, just as soon as SP had the caulking done.

The supplies arrived, the weather cooperated (day after day of lovely 23/76 degree sunshine!), SP had us patched in a day and we had the hideous blue tarp back on the ground where it belonged.  With our return to the USA looming ahead, we felt pressure to resume the Aventura and decided to head back south to Slovenia. 

On the designated driving day, I woke up and took The Noses for a long hike up into the woods and then down along the lake, two hours in total.  Arriving back later than usual with the warm sun shining I wondered why we were leaving this heavenly spot, voted for one more vacation day and so talked SP into staying another 24 hours. 

Topping my morning hike with a quick swim, some sunbathing while SP waxed Salt, and another epic tennis battle in the afternoon, it was a perfect last vacation day.  Happy and tired, we settled into our camp chairs with chips and gin to watch the final parade of people by Salt.  (She must be, by now, in more home movies and pictures than most children.  Some people try to take pictures in a nonchalant manner, “Hey, I’m just out here taking pictures of all the caravans” and others are more direct often just standing right in front of us staring, photographing and filming without saying a word [in any language.]  The latter are not my favorite people; the former I often invite in for a closer look.)

Staying so long in one spot always makes us a little soft:  The stressors of towing on small, windy roads to another unknown location (will we even be able to fit in the campground?) weighed heavily on our minds as did leaving Austria; what a lovely place.  We are trying to come up with one descriptor for each country and Austria’s effortlessly became “Elegant.”

Having no joy for the back roads of Slovenia, we opted to use the Motorway down the eastern side to Bled.  It was a short drive, so short in fact that I voted to keep heading south unless the area and campground really rang our bell.  But the bell tower was rocking when we pulled into Camping Sobec and became deafening upon our first view of Bled.  

-K