My next vacation will be something completely new for me: A Nile River cruise in December/January. This actually should be an excellent opportunity for me, as it combines both the desire to travel when work is slow (Christmas time) with the desire to travel when the weather is nice (which, of course, is inverted in Egypt). It is an escorted tour, but since we will be on a ship for much of it (with a short land portion), I think I will still feel that I have the autonomy of an "on your own" vacation (i.e., if I want to sleep in, I won't have to worry about the bus leaving me behind, at least not for most of the trip).
So, while I know my next Christmas vacation, the unknown is my vacation after that. I am inclined at this moment to return to Germany, this time staying in one place for the duration so that I do not have to go through the hassles I did with the transfers this time, If, however, I am to do this, I am vowing that I will only do it in late Spring or Summer, and only if I do indeed take the idea of relearning German seriously. At least at this moment, I am inclined to stay in one place, preferably in a large city.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Post Mortem
In hindsight, this was an enjoyable and memorable trip, though candidly not the best I have ever taken. There were several areas where it could have been better, some of which I could have foreseen, others not.
For the things I could control, first off and on a positive note, I am glad I chose late spring, as the weather was great, unlike my winter vacations when it is freezing around Christmas time. There was a bit of rain in both Milan and Munich as well as thunder in Munich, but then again in Europe that is to be expected all year around so you just live with it. The Christmas time vacations are better from the work perspective (I dread thinking about how many emails I will have to catch up on, versus only the small number over the Noel time!), but in Winter it is cold and snowy enough that I need to remember to keep that tradeoff in mind when planning my next trips. My frozen days in Berlin from a year and a half back are still vivid in my memory, as well as some cold-broken blood vessels in my face that I swear are still there to this day.
One concern I had when booking this vacation was that I was, perhaps, trying to fit too much travel into a ten night trip, and that seems to have been borne out. I never quite seemed to hit the right pace for optimum enjoyment on this one:
• Flying from Seattle to CDG, then traveling several more hours to get to Beauvais that same night (to be in place for an early morning flight to Milan) was a difficult way to start. Add to that the unexpected hassle of getting from the "airport" hotel to the airport proper the morning of the flight, and it all added up to a tense beginning.
• The Ryan Air trip from Beauvais to Milan was the most efficient of all, leaving at 8:30 AM and getting me into the Hub Hotel by 1:00 PM, well in advance of the 2:00 PM start for the Monaco Grand Prix.
• Five nights in Milan actually was a bit too long for what the city had to offer. I saw the highlights, Duomo and "The Last Supper, within my first 48 hours of arrival. I did not find the Hop-on/Hop-off bus until my last afternoon (that was dense of me as I usually do that at the start), and the HOHO bus led me to the part of Milan I enjoyed the best, namely the downtown area around Lima station. It was crowded and lively, even though many shops were closed the day I was there (Liberation Day, 2 June).
• An early morning flight from Milan to Munich was not only inconvenient, but it literally took the whole day, with more than a six hour layover in Vienna. I woke at 4:00 AM, and did not arrive in my Erding hotel till after 5:00 PM. In short, a totally wasted day.
• Two days in Erding (Munich) to see Therme Erding was about right, as truth be told I was kind of bored with it (naked young German women included) by the end of the second day.
• The trip from Munich to CDG was also a completely lost day. Granted, this flight did not leave until 3:00 in the afternoon so I did not have to wake up early, but due to unforeseen delays by the German Air Berlin, my already tight connection time of 70 minutes got squeezed even tighter, and I did not arrive at my hotel until 7:30 PM…I had but a tad over four hours to squeeze in my last day of Paris Springtime (which, if you remember, was the original theme of this entire trip!).
• In short, about two and a half of my ten days were spent traveling inside of Europe, and that does not include the time at the beginning and end for the Seattle/CDG flight.
The really inconvenient and extraordinarily long travel times between cities struck me as odd for Europe, where my previous experiences have always been the more anticipated model of efficiency. Though these cities were all only a few hundred miles away, flights with layovers took the better part of a day, and trains, believe it or not, were even less convenient given the locations. Perhaps I just selected a bad combination of cities to visit, but I was amazed given the size of all of these hubs how hard it was to get between them.
In general, my hotel selection was disappointing. Though I received good prices, all (except the last night in Paris) were "in the sticks" and away from the action; none of them had the "walk out the door and be there" experience I seem to enjoy so much more. I expected so much in Erding given that my goal there was to visit the Therme resort, but I was a bit disappointed in Milan and in Beauvais (Paris). I guess in some regards this did not feel much like a trip to Europe as I was never really engrossed in the environment as I have been on my previous trips. Aside from a few hours on my last afternoon in Milan and the short evening in the Millennium Hotel near CDG, I just never found that high energy excitement that makes international travel to major cities such an addiction for me.
One benefit of all the hotels is that they provided free Wi-Fi, something we need to start demanding in the US. In America, it is even backwards, with some of the cheaper hotels providing free Wi-Fi but the more expensive, business class hotels charging for access, presumably because most of their travelers are on expense. Also, most European hotels still either provide little shoe shine kits in the room, or the big machine. Kind of a nice, quaint touch. Of the two, I'd lobby the US for the free WiFi first.
The Armani travelled well, scarcely showing a sign of wrinkle. No snags, cuts or damage as best I can tell.
I really, really need to relearn my German and possibly my Russian. As bad as I felt for not being able to say much in French or Italian (save for "Sei molto bella!"), it would not have been that bad if I at least felt conversant in the other two tongues I have actually studied. I think one of the key things I need to remember for my next trip is to prepare for it well in advance by coming up to speed in German; in fact, I need to follow-through on my earlier goal of making this relearning an ongoing effort. To tell the truth, I can read German pretty well, and I can speak it well enough that the Germans think I am Dutch, not American (which is a bit of a relief), but I still regret knowing quite a bit about those languages yet feeling so much like an illiterate. My Russian is perhaps a bit rustier since my Cyrillic is rusty, but that, too, would come back if I were to devote the effort to it on an ongoing basis.
The most positive note of the trip: I will always remember the French cabbie on that first day who went out of his way to help me on my way to Beauvais, declining even a symbolic two Euro token thank you. Stereotypes die hard, but at least in my mind this one gentlemen's act will always and forever go a long ways to causing me to dispute the "French are rude" axiom, in both myself and others. I am kicking myself for not getting the phone number or name of his company so I could send a thank you note.
For the things I could control, first off and on a positive note, I am glad I chose late spring, as the weather was great, unlike my winter vacations when it is freezing around Christmas time. There was a bit of rain in both Milan and Munich as well as thunder in Munich, but then again in Europe that is to be expected all year around so you just live with it. The Christmas time vacations are better from the work perspective (I dread thinking about how many emails I will have to catch up on, versus only the small number over the Noel time!), but in Winter it is cold and snowy enough that I need to remember to keep that tradeoff in mind when planning my next trips. My frozen days in Berlin from a year and a half back are still vivid in my memory, as well as some cold-broken blood vessels in my face that I swear are still there to this day.
One concern I had when booking this vacation was that I was, perhaps, trying to fit too much travel into a ten night trip, and that seems to have been borne out. I never quite seemed to hit the right pace for optimum enjoyment on this one:
• Flying from Seattle to CDG, then traveling several more hours to get to Beauvais that same night (to be in place for an early morning flight to Milan) was a difficult way to start. Add to that the unexpected hassle of getting from the "airport" hotel to the airport proper the morning of the flight, and it all added up to a tense beginning.
• The Ryan Air trip from Beauvais to Milan was the most efficient of all, leaving at 8:30 AM and getting me into the Hub Hotel by 1:00 PM, well in advance of the 2:00 PM start for the Monaco Grand Prix.
• Five nights in Milan actually was a bit too long for what the city had to offer. I saw the highlights, Duomo and "The Last Supper, within my first 48 hours of arrival. I did not find the Hop-on/Hop-off bus until my last afternoon (that was dense of me as I usually do that at the start), and the HOHO bus led me to the part of Milan I enjoyed the best, namely the downtown area around Lima station. It was crowded and lively, even though many shops were closed the day I was there (Liberation Day, 2 June).
• An early morning flight from Milan to Munich was not only inconvenient, but it literally took the whole day, with more than a six hour layover in Vienna. I woke at 4:00 AM, and did not arrive in my Erding hotel till after 5:00 PM. In short, a totally wasted day.
• Two days in Erding (Munich) to see Therme Erding was about right, as truth be told I was kind of bored with it (naked young German women included) by the end of the second day.
• The trip from Munich to CDG was also a completely lost day. Granted, this flight did not leave until 3:00 in the afternoon so I did not have to wake up early, but due to unforeseen delays by the German Air Berlin, my already tight connection time of 70 minutes got squeezed even tighter, and I did not arrive at my hotel until 7:30 PM…I had but a tad over four hours to squeeze in my last day of Paris Springtime (which, if you remember, was the original theme of this entire trip!).
• In short, about two and a half of my ten days were spent traveling inside of Europe, and that does not include the time at the beginning and end for the Seattle/CDG flight.
The really inconvenient and extraordinarily long travel times between cities struck me as odd for Europe, where my previous experiences have always been the more anticipated model of efficiency. Though these cities were all only a few hundred miles away, flights with layovers took the better part of a day, and trains, believe it or not, were even less convenient given the locations. Perhaps I just selected a bad combination of cities to visit, but I was amazed given the size of all of these hubs how hard it was to get between them.
In general, my hotel selection was disappointing. Though I received good prices, all (except the last night in Paris) were "in the sticks" and away from the action; none of them had the "walk out the door and be there" experience I seem to enjoy so much more. I expected so much in Erding given that my goal there was to visit the Therme resort, but I was a bit disappointed in Milan and in Beauvais (Paris). I guess in some regards this did not feel much like a trip to Europe as I was never really engrossed in the environment as I have been on my previous trips. Aside from a few hours on my last afternoon in Milan and the short evening in the Millennium Hotel near CDG, I just never found that high energy excitement that makes international travel to major cities such an addiction for me.
One benefit of all the hotels is that they provided free Wi-Fi, something we need to start demanding in the US. In America, it is even backwards, with some of the cheaper hotels providing free Wi-Fi but the more expensive, business class hotels charging for access, presumably because most of their travelers are on expense. Also, most European hotels still either provide little shoe shine kits in the room, or the big machine. Kind of a nice, quaint touch. Of the two, I'd lobby the US for the free WiFi first.
The Armani travelled well, scarcely showing a sign of wrinkle. No snags, cuts or damage as best I can tell.
I really, really need to relearn my German and possibly my Russian. As bad as I felt for not being able to say much in French or Italian (save for "Sei molto bella!"), it would not have been that bad if I at least felt conversant in the other two tongues I have actually studied. I think one of the key things I need to remember for my next trip is to prepare for it well in advance by coming up to speed in German; in fact, I need to follow-through on my earlier goal of making this relearning an ongoing effort. To tell the truth, I can read German pretty well, and I can speak it well enough that the Germans think I am Dutch, not American (which is a bit of a relief), but I still regret knowing quite a bit about those languages yet feeling so much like an illiterate. My Russian is perhaps a bit rustier since my Cyrillic is rusty, but that, too, would come back if I were to devote the effort to it on an ongoing basis.
The most positive note of the trip: I will always remember the French cabbie on that first day who went out of his way to help me on my way to Beauvais, declining even a symbolic two Euro token thank you. Stereotypes die hard, but at least in my mind this one gentlemen's act will always and forever go a long ways to causing me to dispute the "French are rude" axiom, in both myself and others. I am kicking myself for not getting the phone number or name of his company so I could send a thank you note.
The Trip Home
In order to say a vacation was better than most, that implies that some others have to be "nicht sehr gut." While I am never going to regret a vacation, and I don't want to call this one the vacation from hell, truth is this trip just kept running into unpleasantries up until the last moment.
The fight home, of course, was on Iceland Air and reversed the route over, meaning I flew from CDG to Keflavik, then on to Seattle. The flight was scheduled to leave CDG at 2:15, arriving in the late afternoon in Seattle after a short layover in Keflavik. I figured that in order to avoid feeling rushed, I would get to CDG early, and took the Black (shuttle) bus at 9:45 AM. I think I got on a bus that had literally just picked up an entire Japanese tour group,since they all had on similar name tags, but it was the most crowded, uncomfortable sardine fit I can remember in the last ten years. In any case, I got to the Terminal 1 and was about to head upstairs to check-in, when security stopped us and would not let us proceed: Some idiot had left a violin case at one of the gates, and for the next 30 minutes we were all stopped at the foot of the elevator till they cleared the situation. As you can probably guess, after blocking off entry to one of CDG's main terminals for half an hour, the result when things were reopened was explosive, with people literally clawing their way to get up the (non-functioning) escalator. In any case, I made it up, found the hall, but alas--there was no Iceland Air check-in counter to be seen. I'm not saying the counter was there but unstaffed, instead I mean there was no sign of the existence of an Iceland Air counter. I double checked the departure board, and it indicated the flight was departing on time, and that i was in the right hall, but Iceland Air wasn't there! I finally found a real person at an information desk, and she confirmed the hall was correct, but that Iceland Air would not be there until about two hours before the flight.
Anyway, once I got on the flight, both legs were uneventful. We arrived in and left Keflavik within a few minutes of schedule. I arrived at SeaTac, so did my bags, and I cleared Customs without incident.
Now this is normally where you say the trip ends and you move on to the wrap-up. Not so with this…this maybe really was the trip from hell.
Upon exiting Customs, I pulled out my wallet to find my claim check for the offsite parking. I know it had been there as recently as that morning, but somewhere between CDG and SEA that little claim ticket fell out. OK, now you can't really image that would be a big deal, I mean people do lose claim tickets, so I'll just call up the lot and work it out. But wait, what _was_ the name of that cheap parking place? It something park, or park something, but damn if I could remember! And without the claim check, I wasn't even sure how to find them. Fortunately, I still had the directions on my computer, along with the name, so I went to the pick up area, found their name, and dialed 71. An automated system answered, and asked me to put in my claim check number, which of course I did not have. They provided no option to get to a real person. I hung up, and figured I would call them on their real number using my cell phone; battery was dead. Maybe I could find an antiquated payphone, but wait, I had dropped all my US coins into one of the charity bins on the start of my trip. Now I was starting to panic a bit, as in addition to having my car, they had my keys to my condo, so even if I were to take another means home, I could not get in. I went back to the phone, redialed 71, and when asked for my five digit claim number, I started putting in random numbers! Guess what--after a relatively few tries, it (the automated voice) said thanks, we'll be right there. When I got to the counter, I showed my ID and was done.
The fight home, of course, was on Iceland Air and reversed the route over, meaning I flew from CDG to Keflavik, then on to Seattle. The flight was scheduled to leave CDG at 2:15, arriving in the late afternoon in Seattle after a short layover in Keflavik. I figured that in order to avoid feeling rushed, I would get to CDG early, and took the Black (shuttle) bus at 9:45 AM. I think I got on a bus that had literally just picked up an entire Japanese tour group,since they all had on similar name tags, but it was the most crowded, uncomfortable sardine fit I can remember in the last ten years. In any case, I got to the Terminal 1 and was about to head upstairs to check-in, when security stopped us and would not let us proceed: Some idiot had left a violin case at one of the gates, and for the next 30 minutes we were all stopped at the foot of the elevator till they cleared the situation. As you can probably guess, after blocking off entry to one of CDG's main terminals for half an hour, the result when things were reopened was explosive, with people literally clawing their way to get up the (non-functioning) escalator. In any case, I made it up, found the hall, but alas--there was no Iceland Air check-in counter to be seen. I'm not saying the counter was there but unstaffed, instead I mean there was no sign of the existence of an Iceland Air counter. I double checked the departure board, and it indicated the flight was departing on time, and that i was in the right hall, but Iceland Air wasn't there! I finally found a real person at an information desk, and she confirmed the hall was correct, but that Iceland Air would not be there until about two hours before the flight.
Anyway, once I got on the flight, both legs were uneventful. We arrived in and left Keflavik within a few minutes of schedule. I arrived at SeaTac, so did my bags, and I cleared Customs without incident.
Now this is normally where you say the trip ends and you move on to the wrap-up. Not so with this…this maybe really was the trip from hell.
Upon exiting Customs, I pulled out my wallet to find my claim check for the offsite parking. I know it had been there as recently as that morning, but somewhere between CDG and SEA that little claim ticket fell out. OK, now you can't really image that would be a big deal, I mean people do lose claim tickets, so I'll just call up the lot and work it out. But wait, what _was_ the name of that cheap parking place? It something park, or park something, but damn if I could remember! And without the claim check, I wasn't even sure how to find them. Fortunately, I still had the directions on my computer, along with the name, so I went to the pick up area, found their name, and dialed 71. An automated system answered, and asked me to put in my claim check number, which of course I did not have. They provided no option to get to a real person. I hung up, and figured I would call them on their real number using my cell phone; battery was dead. Maybe I could find an antiquated payphone, but wait, I had dropped all my US coins into one of the charity bins on the start of my trip. Now I was starting to panic a bit, as in addition to having my car, they had my keys to my condo, so even if I were to take another means home, I could not get in. I went back to the phone, redialed 71, and when asked for my five digit claim number, I started putting in random numbers! Guess what--after a relatively few tries, it (the automated voice) said thanks, we'll be right there. When I got to the counter, I showed my ID and was done.
Last Night
My last night, in an airport hotel near the CDG airport.
The end of a vacation is always a downer for me. I can't call it bittersweet, as quite the contrary it is simply a downer, regardless of whether the trip was awesome or less than perfect (as in this case). I truly love travel, virtually any place in the world, and to have to put that dream on hold for a bit till my next trip is unpleasant.
In any case, the Millennium Hotel does, indeed, offer free airport shuttle service rather than shuttle service at the cost of taxi service. Since I could not find the shuttle at the airport going to the hotel, I at least figured I could use it the next morning returning to the airport. In this sense, unlike the German notion of a hotel shuttle that costs as much as a taxi, it is at least the thought that counts.
The Hotel Millennium was but a short, 10 minute ride from CDG (less had the driver actually had a clue), but it actually turned out to be a pleasant surprise. A bit older, with a slight musty smell which you were able to ignore after a few minutes, this is a large hotel, with a formal restaurant and an Irish pub bar. I decided to have one truly nice dinner out, so I had a small split of white wine with a very interesting meat platter appetizer, and a chicken breast with mushroom sauce and green beens. Surprisingly, all of it was very good, though I am not sure what the meat appetite platter really was (three meats, one proscetta, one some unknown spiral half dollar sized meat, and a huge pate block). Regardless of what it actually was, the dinner was very tasty, moderately priced at 40 Euros (a relative bargain given what I perceived the place to be worth). I do, however, need to get my friend to instruct me on how to properly savor a meat platter; being alone in a nearly empty restaurant, I could take certain shortcuts, though I am not sure they would meet with Emily Post approval. Make a note to myself to take her to a nice French restaurant so she can instruct me.
So, as the last night draws to a close, I finished dinner and then had a vodka tonic in the Irish pub on Monday evening, while watching a soccer game between France and the Ukraine. After that, I retired to my room, ordering a bottle of Muscadet while continuing to watch the game. In hindsight, I probably should have gone with my original idea of simply spending the whole 10 nights in Paris, as there is some noise, attitude and liveliness here, something I really have not felt on this trip, save for those last few hours in Milan. Tonight, though, I shall (will) get to bed no later than midnight so I can awaken at 9:00, leave the hotel at 10:00 and catch a 2:15 flight to Keflavik, then on to Seattle.
The end of a vacation is always a downer for me. I can't call it bittersweet, as quite the contrary it is simply a downer, regardless of whether the trip was awesome or less than perfect (as in this case). I truly love travel, virtually any place in the world, and to have to put that dream on hold for a bit till my next trip is unpleasant.
In any case, the Millennium Hotel does, indeed, offer free airport shuttle service rather than shuttle service at the cost of taxi service. Since I could not find the shuttle at the airport going to the hotel, I at least figured I could use it the next morning returning to the airport. In this sense, unlike the German notion of a hotel shuttle that costs as much as a taxi, it is at least the thought that counts.
The Hotel Millennium was but a short, 10 minute ride from CDG (less had the driver actually had a clue), but it actually turned out to be a pleasant surprise. A bit older, with a slight musty smell which you were able to ignore after a few minutes, this is a large hotel, with a formal restaurant and an Irish pub bar. I decided to have one truly nice dinner out, so I had a small split of white wine with a very interesting meat platter appetizer, and a chicken breast with mushroom sauce and green beens. Surprisingly, all of it was very good, though I am not sure what the meat appetite platter really was (three meats, one proscetta, one some unknown spiral half dollar sized meat, and a huge pate block). Regardless of what it actually was, the dinner was very tasty, moderately priced at 40 Euros (a relative bargain given what I perceived the place to be worth). I do, however, need to get my friend to instruct me on how to properly savor a meat platter; being alone in a nearly empty restaurant, I could take certain shortcuts, though I am not sure they would meet with Emily Post approval. Make a note to myself to take her to a nice French restaurant so she can instruct me.
So, as the last night draws to a close, I finished dinner and then had a vodka tonic in the Irish pub on Monday evening, while watching a soccer game between France and the Ukraine. After that, I retired to my room, ordering a bottle of Muscadet while continuing to watch the game. In hindsight, I probably should have gone with my original idea of simply spending the whole 10 nights in Paris, as there is some noise, attitude and liveliness here, something I really have not felt on this trip, save for those last few hours in Milan. Tonight, though, I shall (will) get to bed no later than midnight so I can awaken at 9:00, leave the hotel at 10:00 and catch a 2:15 flight to Keflavik, then on to Seattle.
Munich to Paris
Munich to Paris
When I originally booked it, the flight from Munich to Paris was a bit of a concern for me, both from the time involved (taking essentially the whole day to go such a short distance), plus the fact I had booked a ticket on eDreams (a Spanish travel agency I knew nothing about), not to mention that it was an Air Berlin/Air France transfer ticket with just an hour and 10 minutes layover in Dusseldorf. Still, as I have said before, this was actually a better option for me than taking a train (I still can't understand that…), so I decided to give it a try.
It's ironic that a distance this short should take the whole day, but since it was a 3:00 PM flight, I felt I decided to leave the hotel at noon, meaning there was not enough time to do anything that morning other than sleep in a bit. On the arrival side, it was scheduled for 6:40 PM, which I predicted would mean that I would be in the hotel about 8:00 PM. Train alternatives, as mentioned earlier, were surprisingly no better, and at least this option would get me directly from one airport to the other, without the Beauvais risk at the start of the trip. Oh well, another day shot to travel. Then again, though the layover was tight, this should not be too much of a problem as I was flying on a German airline leaving from a German airport into Dusseldorf, to connect with a French airline; by all conventional wisdom, my German flight would be on time, if not early, while the French would be late.
Well, as this trip seems to have shown me, what should make sense does not. I arrived at the Munich airport over two and a half hours early, only to have the flight leave 35 minutes late, with no explanation. Though we made up some time in the air, my 70 minute layover (tight to begin with) was well less than an hour when I landed. And, to add to that, since I had to transfer airlines, I had to leave the secure area to checkin at the front counter, then go through screening again. I figured if I made it on time, my checked bag certainly would not. Fortunately, I arrived at the gate as boarding was in progress, the plane left early, and we all (check in bag included) made it to CDG right on time. French airlines 1, Gemans 0.
One quirky side note: Like most men's rooms in Europe, the Munich airport had a vending machine for condoms. Not much of a surprise, except that in addition to the anticipated European version of Trojans, this sported a completely different option: Die Künstliche Vagina (Travelling Vagina, http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Künstliche_Vagina) in the condom machine. I wish I had had the four Euros in coins in my pocket to buy one of those, purely as a novelty item! (No, plastic substitutes for the real thing never interested me even a little bit, whether we are talking blow up lovie dolls or giant dildos!)
In any case, delays and provocative plastics offerings notwithstanding, I did indeed make it into CDG as scheduled, and in fact my bag actually rolled out as one of the first three on the carousel. (Granted, that probably meant it was one of the last ones thrown on the plane in Dusseldorf, but I'll take that as perfectly fine under the circumstances.) Upon leaving baggage claim, there was a sign clearly marking which exit to use for the hotel shuttles (2D, exit 9). Unfortunately, the buses were not provided this information, so after being unable to see any hotel buses at all, I hailed a cab, thinking it could not be that difficult or expensive, and I did not want to waste my last few hours in Paris looking for a presumably free ride to a nearby hotel.
I hailed a cab, and though just as in Beauvais I gave the cabbie the exact address and the phone number and the GPS coordinates, he was clueless as to the location. (This guy, however, did not even try punching the numbers in the GPS!) After asking two other cabbies and asking me in broken English to look for the hotel sign, he (actually I) did manage to find the location, and I managed to check in at 7:30 PM, half an hour earlier than I had projected I would.
When I originally booked it, the flight from Munich to Paris was a bit of a concern for me, both from the time involved (taking essentially the whole day to go such a short distance), plus the fact I had booked a ticket on eDreams (a Spanish travel agency I knew nothing about), not to mention that it was an Air Berlin/Air France transfer ticket with just an hour and 10 minutes layover in Dusseldorf. Still, as I have said before, this was actually a better option for me than taking a train (I still can't understand that…), so I decided to give it a try.
It's ironic that a distance this short should take the whole day, but since it was a 3:00 PM flight, I felt I decided to leave the hotel at noon, meaning there was not enough time to do anything that morning other than sleep in a bit. On the arrival side, it was scheduled for 6:40 PM, which I predicted would mean that I would be in the hotel about 8:00 PM. Train alternatives, as mentioned earlier, were surprisingly no better, and at least this option would get me directly from one airport to the other, without the Beauvais risk at the start of the trip. Oh well, another day shot to travel. Then again, though the layover was tight, this should not be too much of a problem as I was flying on a German airline leaving from a German airport into Dusseldorf, to connect with a French airline; by all conventional wisdom, my German flight would be on time, if not early, while the French would be late.
Well, as this trip seems to have shown me, what should make sense does not. I arrived at the Munich airport over two and a half hours early, only to have the flight leave 35 minutes late, with no explanation. Though we made up some time in the air, my 70 minute layover (tight to begin with) was well less than an hour when I landed. And, to add to that, since I had to transfer airlines, I had to leave the secure area to checkin at the front counter, then go through screening again. I figured if I made it on time, my checked bag certainly would not. Fortunately, I arrived at the gate as boarding was in progress, the plane left early, and we all (check in bag included) made it to CDG right on time. French airlines 1, Gemans 0.
One quirky side note: Like most men's rooms in Europe, the Munich airport had a vending machine for condoms. Not much of a surprise, except that in addition to the anticipated European version of Trojans, this sported a completely different option: Die Künstliche Vagina (Travelling Vagina, http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Künstliche_Vagina) in the condom machine. I wish I had had the four Euros in coins in my pocket to buy one of those, purely as a novelty item! (No, plastic substitutes for the real thing never interested me even a little bit, whether we are talking blow up lovie dolls or giant dildos!)
In any case, delays and provocative plastics offerings notwithstanding, I did indeed make it into CDG as scheduled, and in fact my bag actually rolled out as one of the first three on the carousel. (Granted, that probably meant it was one of the last ones thrown on the plane in Dusseldorf, but I'll take that as perfectly fine under the circumstances.) Upon leaving baggage claim, there was a sign clearly marking which exit to use for the hotel shuttles (2D, exit 9). Unfortunately, the buses were not provided this information, so after being unable to see any hotel buses at all, I hailed a cab, thinking it could not be that difficult or expensive, and I did not want to waste my last few hours in Paris looking for a presumably free ride to a nearby hotel.
I hailed a cab, and though just as in Beauvais I gave the cabbie the exact address and the phone number and the GPS coordinates, he was clueless as to the location. (This guy, however, did not even try punching the numbers in the GPS!) After asking two other cabbies and asking me in broken English to look for the hotel sign, he (actually I) did manage to find the location, and I managed to check in at 7:30 PM, half an hour earlier than I had projected I would.
Erding and Therme Erding
Erding and Therme Erding
Quick summary on Therme Erding: One of the main things I wanted to visit Therme Erding was to see if it was as I remembered it from nearly three years ago. Surprisingly it was as I recalled, and even more surprisingly at this point I have gotten so used to Germans and their attitude towards nudity that I was a bit underwhelmed with it; I can't believe I am saying this, but after just a short period of "refamiliarization," I became bored with the naked young German women. Yes, after a short time, I had seen so many beautiful young naked German women that I no longer seemed to notice, and if I did want titillation, then I went to the swimsuit required part of the park, where leaving that little bit to the imagination was actually more erotic than knowing it all. I'm not at all adverse to nudity, but quite the contrary I think the Europeans really do understand that it is something adults can handle. More of an elaboration below.
The hotel was nothing special either way. I had a true single room (i.e., single bed, one towel, one packet of coffee), albeit large enough they could have made it a double. The sloped ceiling was odd, in that over half the floor space was unusable as I would run my head into the roof! The sauna downstairs was boring to the point I did not even use it, and the bar was marginal; a young dark-haired bartender named "Kim" worked it, and on the third and final night, when it was slow and quiet, she actually befriended me a bit, plus by this time I felt a bit more comfortable using (and stumbling with) my German. One complaint is that though the hotel dubs itself as an "airport" hotel, and the entire place is in an airport theme, their Best Western logoed airport shuttle costs 28 Euros, as opposed to the 32 Euros I paid for a private Mercedes taxi. I would expect a self-proclaimed airport hotel to offer very cheap, if not free, service to the airport. Then again, the Germans do seem to know how to milk an extra Euro out of everything: Therme Erding charged me 1.10 Euros (about $1.50) for ice on top of the cost of my bottled water. (Arghh, ice still seems to be a commodity Europe just cannot understand.)
As is usual, my German was very poor the first day, then started getting progressively better as I felt more comfortable and my ear came back. Unfortunately, I was here for less than 72 hours, so just as I felt a bit of confidence, it was time to leave.
In a little more detail, Theme Erding is a spa, unlike anything in the United States. This is a huge "amusement park" like setting, about 45 minutes outside of Munich proper (which is why I opted to stay in the small town just a 10 minute walk away). The spa consists of three more or less distinct parts:
▪ Water-slide area for youngsters
▪ Mixed use sauna, spa and pools for all ages
▪ The sauna are, for adults (which in Germany means 16 and older) since it is "Textilfrei."
I've not actually seen the water-slide area since it is for families with small children. It looks very much like something you would find in the US, with plastic type slides for the youngsters and their families.
The mixed use area has a little bit of everything, and is open for people of all ages. Swimsuits are required (no nudity allowed), and you can take your choice of dry saunas, wet saunas, mineral/calcium/salt pools, and plain water pools. This in itself is not like anything I have ever found in the US, and just this area alone would make for a full day.
The real draw for me, however, is the more regal sauna area, open to 16 years old and up since it is nudity required (textile-free). Note that this is not the same as clothing optional, but instead this means you must disrobe and enjoy the facilities in the buff. OK, technically when you are walking about you are supposed to wear a robe or a towel, but this is generally not enforced except for in the restaurants. When in the saunas or the pools, however, you are required to be naked, with the stipulation that in the saunas you need to sit on a towel for hygienic reasons. The best way I can describe this is regal: There is an elegance and classiness about it that is palatial, elegant, luxurious. The nudity, rather than weedy, really does at some point reduce the sexual tension. It's difficult to describe for Americans, but after the initial few moments, walking around and seeing others, of both genders, in the buff is far less titillating than wearing a swimsuit. In a swimsuit, even the most revealing string bikinis that I find so nice on a curvy MILF, there is still a mystique, an unknown, about exactly what is underneath. Granted, you have a pretty good idea of what is there, but the exact details are still a bit of a mystery, so close but out of reach. Take the suit off, however, and all doubt is gone.
For the most part you walk into one of the two dozen or so differently themed saunas and sit at your leisure, with temperatures from about 50 Celsius up to 80 Celsius, possibly hotter. In a few of them, however, they occasionally offer "Aufgass" which is a short (10 minute or so) period when a guide comes in, cranks up the heat, and dumps water on the stones to increase the humidity. Most of these also feature some quirk, such as the guide providing you with various lotions or solutions to smear on your body: Salt, ice, honey, yogurt with strawberries, even chocolate mousse. In one case, they actually bake bread in the oven while you sit in the room, and afterwards you are offered the carbs for your patience. In the 70 Celsius range and hotter, this can be either enjoyable or unbearable, depending on your physical condition and other things. For the most part, I was able to sit through even the hottest Aufgass, save for one time on the last day when I had to bail.
Quick summary on Therme Erding: One of the main things I wanted to visit Therme Erding was to see if it was as I remembered it from nearly three years ago. Surprisingly it was as I recalled, and even more surprisingly at this point I have gotten so used to Germans and their attitude towards nudity that I was a bit underwhelmed with it; I can't believe I am saying this, but after just a short period of "refamiliarization," I became bored with the naked young German women. Yes, after a short time, I had seen so many beautiful young naked German women that I no longer seemed to notice, and if I did want titillation, then I went to the swimsuit required part of the park, where leaving that little bit to the imagination was actually more erotic than knowing it all. I'm not at all adverse to nudity, but quite the contrary I think the Europeans really do understand that it is something adults can handle. More of an elaboration below.
The hotel was nothing special either way. I had a true single room (i.e., single bed, one towel, one packet of coffee), albeit large enough they could have made it a double. The sloped ceiling was odd, in that over half the floor space was unusable as I would run my head into the roof! The sauna downstairs was boring to the point I did not even use it, and the bar was marginal; a young dark-haired bartender named "Kim" worked it, and on the third and final night, when it was slow and quiet, she actually befriended me a bit, plus by this time I felt a bit more comfortable using (and stumbling with) my German. One complaint is that though the hotel dubs itself as an "airport" hotel, and the entire place is in an airport theme, their Best Western logoed airport shuttle costs 28 Euros, as opposed to the 32 Euros I paid for a private Mercedes taxi. I would expect a self-proclaimed airport hotel to offer very cheap, if not free, service to the airport. Then again, the Germans do seem to know how to milk an extra Euro out of everything: Therme Erding charged me 1.10 Euros (about $1.50) for ice on top of the cost of my bottled water. (Arghh, ice still seems to be a commodity Europe just cannot understand.)
As is usual, my German was very poor the first day, then started getting progressively better as I felt more comfortable and my ear came back. Unfortunately, I was here for less than 72 hours, so just as I felt a bit of confidence, it was time to leave.
In a little more detail, Theme Erding is a spa, unlike anything in the United States. This is a huge "amusement park" like setting, about 45 minutes outside of Munich proper (which is why I opted to stay in the small town just a 10 minute walk away). The spa consists of three more or less distinct parts:
▪ Water-slide area for youngsters
▪ Mixed use sauna, spa and pools for all ages
▪ The sauna are, for adults (which in Germany means 16 and older) since it is "Textilfrei."
I've not actually seen the water-slide area since it is for families with small children. It looks very much like something you would find in the US, with plastic type slides for the youngsters and their families.
The mixed use area has a little bit of everything, and is open for people of all ages. Swimsuits are required (no nudity allowed), and you can take your choice of dry saunas, wet saunas, mineral/calcium/salt pools, and plain water pools. This in itself is not like anything I have ever found in the US, and just this area alone would make for a full day.
The real draw for me, however, is the more regal sauna area, open to 16 years old and up since it is nudity required (textile-free). Note that this is not the same as clothing optional, but instead this means you must disrobe and enjoy the facilities in the buff. OK, technically when you are walking about you are supposed to wear a robe or a towel, but this is generally not enforced except for in the restaurants. When in the saunas or the pools, however, you are required to be naked, with the stipulation that in the saunas you need to sit on a towel for hygienic reasons. The best way I can describe this is regal: There is an elegance and classiness about it that is palatial, elegant, luxurious. The nudity, rather than weedy, really does at some point reduce the sexual tension. It's difficult to describe for Americans, but after the initial few moments, walking around and seeing others, of both genders, in the buff is far less titillating than wearing a swimsuit. In a swimsuit, even the most revealing string bikinis that I find so nice on a curvy MILF, there is still a mystique, an unknown, about exactly what is underneath. Granted, you have a pretty good idea of what is there, but the exact details are still a bit of a mystery, so close but out of reach. Take the suit off, however, and all doubt is gone.
For the most part you walk into one of the two dozen or so differently themed saunas and sit at your leisure, with temperatures from about 50 Celsius up to 80 Celsius, possibly hotter. In a few of them, however, they occasionally offer "Aufgass" which is a short (10 minute or so) period when a guide comes in, cranks up the heat, and dumps water on the stones to increase the humidity. Most of these also feature some quirk, such as the guide providing you with various lotions or solutions to smear on your body: Salt, ice, honey, yogurt with strawberries, even chocolate mousse. In one case, they actually bake bread in the oven while you sit in the room, and afterwards you are offered the carbs for your patience. In the 70 Celsius range and hotter, this can be either enjoyable or unbearable, depending on your physical condition and other things. For the most part, I was able to sit through even the hottest Aufgass, save for one time on the last day when I had to bail.
Milan to Munich
Milan to Munich
Unfortunately, the city transfers are very difficult for me during this trip, and the Milan to Munich one was doomed to be a pain from the start, yet got even worse in actual practice.
I knew when I booked this flight that something felt bad about it, given that it was from Malapensa (outside of Milan) at 8:30 AM, and not arriving in Munich until well after 4:00 PM, thanks in large part to a six hour layover in Vienna. That was bed enough, but having "enjoyed" the night before in the heart of Milan, my somewhat hungover body was not really ready for this transfer. I woke up (not really sure if I ever really went to sleep!) at 4:00 and arranged for a ride in the hotel shuttle to Bovisa, a local station, where they had the Malapensa Express. This is partly my fault, but I had assumed this was a bus, since a bus service by the same name left Milano Centrale; as it turns out, however, after spending nearly two hours in the rain under a bus stop where the driver had let me out, I finally managed to get my question across to another patron, who pointed out to me that the Express was actually a train. Though I had gotten up four and a half hours before the flight, my time was now getting tight. I had an unused metro/rail ticket in my pocket for just such an emergency, so I ran to the train and got on board. When the conductor came through, he asked for my ticket, which as it turns out was not valid on this particular train. So, even though in this case I had consciously bought an extra ticket the day before, it turns out I had to buy one, and pay a 5 Euro penalty, on the train. In any case, it got me to the airport in enough time that I was able to scarf down a quick breakfast (and beer) before it took off for Vienna.
The landing, unfortunately, was on time in Vienna, meaning I had nearly six hours to kill in the local airport. Since I was already a bit "worn out" from my previous night, I knew I could not spend the entire time in a bar, even with food, so I instead tried to look around for shops to occupy my time. Unfortunately, I managed to find Wolford, which is the European equivalent of a Victoria's secret. Since there is actually a young lady in my life at the moment, I managed too spend too much time, and too many Euros, buying items for her. (The sales lady did not help one little bit, only adding to the suggestions when I needed very little encouragement!) In any case, I'll forego the details, other than to say that after too many hours, too many stocking/garter purchases, and too many drinks, I managed to survive long enough to make the flight from Vienna to Munich.
Upon arriving in Munich, things went well. Although I could not find the Best Western airport shuttle, I decided to take a taxi from the airport to my hotel in Erding, a small town outside of Munich. As it turns out, this was not much of a loss, as I would find out on my departure that a taxi ride was barely any more expensive than the airport shuttle.
I arrived at the hotel about 5:30 PM, and though I was able to walk around the corner and see Therme Erding in the distance, I was too tired to try to make a quick trip. Instead, I had a couple of drinks and made it an early bedtime so I could get up the next morning and hit the world's greatest spa at opening time.
Unfortunately, the city transfers are very difficult for me during this trip, and the Milan to Munich one was doomed to be a pain from the start, yet got even worse in actual practice.
I knew when I booked this flight that something felt bad about it, given that it was from Malapensa (outside of Milan) at 8:30 AM, and not arriving in Munich until well after 4:00 PM, thanks in large part to a six hour layover in Vienna. That was bed enough, but having "enjoyed" the night before in the heart of Milan, my somewhat hungover body was not really ready for this transfer. I woke up (not really sure if I ever really went to sleep!) at 4:00 and arranged for a ride in the hotel shuttle to Bovisa, a local station, where they had the Malapensa Express. This is partly my fault, but I had assumed this was a bus, since a bus service by the same name left Milano Centrale; as it turns out, however, after spending nearly two hours in the rain under a bus stop where the driver had let me out, I finally managed to get my question across to another patron, who pointed out to me that the Express was actually a train. Though I had gotten up four and a half hours before the flight, my time was now getting tight. I had an unused metro/rail ticket in my pocket for just such an emergency, so I ran to the train and got on board. When the conductor came through, he asked for my ticket, which as it turns out was not valid on this particular train. So, even though in this case I had consciously bought an extra ticket the day before, it turns out I had to buy one, and pay a 5 Euro penalty, on the train. In any case, it got me to the airport in enough time that I was able to scarf down a quick breakfast (and beer) before it took off for Vienna.
The landing, unfortunately, was on time in Vienna, meaning I had nearly six hours to kill in the local airport. Since I was already a bit "worn out" from my previous night, I knew I could not spend the entire time in a bar, even with food, so I instead tried to look around for shops to occupy my time. Unfortunately, I managed to find Wolford, which is the European equivalent of a Victoria's secret. Since there is actually a young lady in my life at the moment, I managed too spend too much time, and too many Euros, buying items for her. (The sales lady did not help one little bit, only adding to the suggestions when I needed very little encouragement!) In any case, I'll forego the details, other than to say that after too many hours, too many stocking/garter purchases, and too many drinks, I managed to survive long enough to make the flight from Vienna to Munich.
Upon arriving in Munich, things went well. Although I could not find the Best Western airport shuttle, I decided to take a taxi from the airport to my hotel in Erding, a small town outside of Munich. As it turns out, this was not much of a loss, as I would find out on my departure that a taxi ride was barely any more expensive than the airport shuttle.
I arrived at the hotel about 5:30 PM, and though I was able to walk around the corner and see Therme Erding in the distance, I was too tired to try to make a quick trip. Instead, I had a couple of drinks and made it an early bedtime so I could get up the next morning and hit the world's greatest spa at opening time.
Milan
Milan Itself.
I spent a total of five nights in Milan…in hindsight, that was more than I should have.
Sunday: Monte Carlo Grand Prix, then got ripped.
Monday morning, Duomo bright and early and still boozed from the night before. Took a 30 Euro cab ride in so I could catch it as the sun came up. Awesome sight, but I started crashing when I could only find carbs, no protein, for breakfast. Went back to the hotel, found the awesome spa area upstairs and kind of enjoyed that. Went to bed at a reasonable time, had a couple of drinks, woke up feeling fine next morning.
Tuesday: Last Supper at 11:15. Tried to buy a Coke at the Supermarket, evidently used the wrong line. Helpful two women and nun. Walked around the ritzy areas, saw the department store, saw Duomo again (this time actually understood it). Got boozed up again that evening.
Wednesday morning: Hung over, spent first half of the day in the spa (really hot Italian rubenesque girl in black bikini), went in to town for a short tour that afternoon. Drinks in first bar was fun, rip off at pasta place.
Thursday morning: Leonardo Natural Science Museum. Later that afternoon, found Castle and ultimately the Hop On Hop Off tour. Got plowed on Lima exit, nice guy who owned bar and wanted to talk, got to use my "Sei molt bella" on his wife as a perfect exit. Got plowed enjoyed lots of appetizers, bought lingerie for my friend, stayed up too late in light of my Friday morning early departure for Munich. Gave Sara 50 Euro tip (found out what I had been leaving on credit card was not given to her.) Got ripped.
Frdiay morning: Got up at 4:00 AM, with very little sleep, but ready for my trip to Munich.
Hookers (three total, lots of used condoms). Weird area: Lots of building going on in anticipation of the Trade Fair Center, but at this time rough. Not unsafe, but not pleasant, certainly not a place you enjoy walking. Good 20 minute walk, once you know the route.
I spent a total of five nights in Milan…in hindsight, that was more than I should have.
Sunday: Monte Carlo Grand Prix, then got ripped.
Monday morning, Duomo bright and early and still boozed from the night before. Took a 30 Euro cab ride in so I could catch it as the sun came up. Awesome sight, but I started crashing when I could only find carbs, no protein, for breakfast. Went back to the hotel, found the awesome spa area upstairs and kind of enjoyed that. Went to bed at a reasonable time, had a couple of drinks, woke up feeling fine next morning.
Tuesday: Last Supper at 11:15. Tried to buy a Coke at the Supermarket, evidently used the wrong line. Helpful two women and nun. Walked around the ritzy areas, saw the department store, saw Duomo again (this time actually understood it). Got boozed up again that evening.
Wednesday morning: Hung over, spent first half of the day in the spa (really hot Italian rubenesque girl in black bikini), went in to town for a short tour that afternoon. Drinks in first bar was fun, rip off at pasta place.
Thursday morning: Leonardo Natural Science Museum. Later that afternoon, found Castle and ultimately the Hop On Hop Off tour. Got plowed on Lima exit, nice guy who owned bar and wanted to talk, got to use my "Sei molt bella" on his wife as a perfect exit. Got plowed enjoyed lots of appetizers, bought lingerie for my friend, stayed up too late in light of my Friday morning early departure for Munich. Gave Sara 50 Euro tip (found out what I had been leaving on credit card was not given to her.) Got ripped.
Frdiay morning: Got up at 4:00 AM, with very little sleep, but ready for my trip to Munich.
Hookers (three total, lots of used condoms). Weird area: Lots of building going on in anticipation of the Trade Fair Center, but at this time rough. Not unsafe, but not pleasant, certainly not a place you enjoy walking. Good 20 minute walk, once you know the route.
Hub Hotel and Milan
If my fears and trepidations about the first leg of the trip were founded, any concerns about the second leg were not borne out in fact. Once I actually made it to the Beauvais airport, everything else started falling in place. I had some concerns about the flight itself on Ryan Air, a discount airline in Europe, but actually it went very smoothly, from check-in through boarding through disembarkation. (BTW, even though it is a bargain airline and the goal is to save a little money, I highly recommend paying the few extra Euros for the premium boarding. Much like Southwest's cattle call, you can pay a tad more upfront and be one of the first on the plane, or save and fight with the crowd. In this sense, at least, I am not a fighter.)
I was not 100% sure how i would get from the Bergamo airport to my hotel, but as it turns out they actually sold tickets on the flight itself for the bus ride from the airport to Milan Centrale. From there, it was an easy (one stop) metro ride to the urban train, and from there an easy ride to the station nearest my hotel. Being a Sunday, there did not appear to be any taxis standing by, so I bought an espresso in one of the bars, then had them call the hotel for me, and they quickly sent their van to pick me up. The irony is that this was one of the easiest transfers I have ever made, and it was one with the least thought. I felt I could relax and that my vacation had truly begun.
That brings me to a side thought, namely the types of trips you can plan. At least when I go to Europe, I see three options:
1) An escorted tour (e.g., last Christmas)
2) A self-tour, highly planned (e.g., this one)
3) A self-tour, unplanned (e.g., the one I took nearly three years ago to Germany)
More on this later, though for now let's say that the self-tour highly planned was starting to sound like the least desirable of the three.
The Hub Hotel itself is incredible. Normally, when writing a review, you put down the good things then the "could be better" parts. In this case, I'll do it backwards, listing the one drawback: It's on the outskirts of town. OK, that is not great, but they make up for. The night prior, I stayed at a hotel in Beauvais which I liberally labelled "the boondocks," and the difference is that while The Hub is out of town as well (in what is an industrial area), their liberal use of vans (such as picking me up at the train station) makes this a relatively minor issue. Yes, I didn't have the freedom of walking out the door at any time of day and being in the heart of it, but given the price and the quality of the hotel, I thought (at least for the moment) that I would take that as a compromise. The place is new, modern, open and airy. There is a great fitness area, with a pool, spa, wet and dry sauna. Free WiFi (only drawback: Limited to one IP address). The drinks in the bar were very stiff, with my vodka tonic being over 50% alcohol. (Good thing I saw him poor it so I knew to take it slowly--it's hard to tell with VTs by the taste which way they went.)
My timing, though not intentional, could not have been much better, with the Monaco Grand Prix running the very afternoon I arrived. I've always heard Italians love Formula 1, and I asked the bartender; he very candidly and quickly answered yes, then went on to express the regret that the last couple of years Ferrari had been doing poorly. Nothing artificial, he spoke of it as simply as an American would of baseball.
Also, as I have noted before in Italy, in the hotels at a minimum English seems to be a standard skill. The receptionist at check-in (Amanda) had incredible skills, the bartender (Pietro) was almost as strong. After not being able to exchange virtually a word with anybody in France outside of Paris, this felt like being home! Candidly, comparing Paris to Milan is link comparing Venus to Mars: In Paris, I have never felt at home or relaxed. Whether it be the language, the rudeness, the attitude, or just the vibe of the city, Paris always seems like a rude, impersonal woman: Beautiful, yes; intelligent, yes; yet the lack of warmth, the lack of approachability, make her (the city or the woman) very ugly on balance. Milan, on the other hand (in fact all of Italy I have ever seen) is much the opposite: Maybe not as strikingly beautiful, maybe even not quite as cerebral, but a charm and warmth that make it feel like home, wherever and whenever you are there.
Anyway, back to the Grand Prix. (And, in the sense of full disclosure, I have had two of those vodka tonics I referenced above, so with the time change, tiredness, lack of food, and all else combined, I am feeling rather toasted as I write this!). Anyway, watching this run on the streets of Monaco, a place I visited only a year and a half ago, is a trip in itself. I actually remember the streets, and of course the harbor, and to see it transformed in this way is mind-boggling. There is some ineffable incongruity between the elegance of Monte Carlo and the gritty, oily image of Formula One cars tearing down the boulevards. And, I should point out, that advertising really DOES work, in that I am now switching midstream from vodka tonics to Red Bull and vodka. (Nothing worse than a middle-aged guy buzzed but awake! Oh well!). Anyway, the bartender, the consummate Ferrari fan, is really into this, which means that if I feign to watch it I actually have to remember who is ahead at all times…geeze, what a chore: Unlike football or even baseball when you kind of know something has happened, lead changes are more subtle and unannounced in Formula 1. In any case, it's a real fight between Vettel, Button and Alonso--not that that normally makes sense, but given that Alonso is the Ferrari guy (and I AM in Italy), he is naturally the "favorite" in my mind, as well as the guy who keeps feeding me these rather strong drinks. BTW, though I will read this after I sober up and before I publish, I promise not to change it so that you get the raw feelings (i.e., the words of a true boozed up bug!).
On a non-Form 1 note, OMG!! Bright sunlight! This is not the Seattle BS about it being a nice day just 'cause the clouds are gone and you can see the glowing mass of helium, but instead this is a beautiful, SoCal envious day. I want to finish the race (lap 60 of 78), then I am debating whether to go outside, or hit the whirlpool/hot sauna/dry sauna. And, in any case, I am following my own advice in that I have purchased another bottle of "Wodka" and will have a glass with me whichever way I go. OK, so this was from Duty-Free rather than a supermarket, but the principle is the same, sort of!!
BTW, Sara and Pietro your English is very good.
I was not 100% sure how i would get from the Bergamo airport to my hotel, but as it turns out they actually sold tickets on the flight itself for the bus ride from the airport to Milan Centrale. From there, it was an easy (one stop) metro ride to the urban train, and from there an easy ride to the station nearest my hotel. Being a Sunday, there did not appear to be any taxis standing by, so I bought an espresso in one of the bars, then had them call the hotel for me, and they quickly sent their van to pick me up. The irony is that this was one of the easiest transfers I have ever made, and it was one with the least thought. I felt I could relax and that my vacation had truly begun.
That brings me to a side thought, namely the types of trips you can plan. At least when I go to Europe, I see three options:
1) An escorted tour (e.g., last Christmas)
2) A self-tour, highly planned (e.g., this one)
3) A self-tour, unplanned (e.g., the one I took nearly three years ago to Germany)
More on this later, though for now let's say that the self-tour highly planned was starting to sound like the least desirable of the three.
The Hub Hotel itself is incredible. Normally, when writing a review, you put down the good things then the "could be better" parts. In this case, I'll do it backwards, listing the one drawback: It's on the outskirts of town. OK, that is not great, but they make up for. The night prior, I stayed at a hotel in Beauvais which I liberally labelled "the boondocks," and the difference is that while The Hub is out of town as well (in what is an industrial area), their liberal use of vans (such as picking me up at the train station) makes this a relatively minor issue. Yes, I didn't have the freedom of walking out the door at any time of day and being in the heart of it, but given the price and the quality of the hotel, I thought (at least for the moment) that I would take that as a compromise. The place is new, modern, open and airy. There is a great fitness area, with a pool, spa, wet and dry sauna. Free WiFi (only drawback: Limited to one IP address). The drinks in the bar were very stiff, with my vodka tonic being over 50% alcohol. (Good thing I saw him poor it so I knew to take it slowly--it's hard to tell with VTs by the taste which way they went.)
My timing, though not intentional, could not have been much better, with the Monaco Grand Prix running the very afternoon I arrived. I've always heard Italians love Formula 1, and I asked the bartender; he very candidly and quickly answered yes, then went on to express the regret that the last couple of years Ferrari had been doing poorly. Nothing artificial, he spoke of it as simply as an American would of baseball.
Also, as I have noted before in Italy, in the hotels at a minimum English seems to be a standard skill. The receptionist at check-in (Amanda) had incredible skills, the bartender (Pietro) was almost as strong. After not being able to exchange virtually a word with anybody in France outside of Paris, this felt like being home! Candidly, comparing Paris to Milan is link comparing Venus to Mars: In Paris, I have never felt at home or relaxed. Whether it be the language, the rudeness, the attitude, or just the vibe of the city, Paris always seems like a rude, impersonal woman: Beautiful, yes; intelligent, yes; yet the lack of warmth, the lack of approachability, make her (the city or the woman) very ugly on balance. Milan, on the other hand (in fact all of Italy I have ever seen) is much the opposite: Maybe not as strikingly beautiful, maybe even not quite as cerebral, but a charm and warmth that make it feel like home, wherever and whenever you are there.
Anyway, back to the Grand Prix. (And, in the sense of full disclosure, I have had two of those vodka tonics I referenced above, so with the time change, tiredness, lack of food, and all else combined, I am feeling rather toasted as I write this!). Anyway, watching this run on the streets of Monaco, a place I visited only a year and a half ago, is a trip in itself. I actually remember the streets, and of course the harbor, and to see it transformed in this way is mind-boggling. There is some ineffable incongruity between the elegance of Monte Carlo and the gritty, oily image of Formula One cars tearing down the boulevards. And, I should point out, that advertising really DOES work, in that I am now switching midstream from vodka tonics to Red Bull and vodka. (Nothing worse than a middle-aged guy buzzed but awake! Oh well!). Anyway, the bartender, the consummate Ferrari fan, is really into this, which means that if I feign to watch it I actually have to remember who is ahead at all times…geeze, what a chore: Unlike football or even baseball when you kind of know something has happened, lead changes are more subtle and unannounced in Formula 1. In any case, it's a real fight between Vettel, Button and Alonso--not that that normally makes sense, but given that Alonso is the Ferrari guy (and I AM in Italy), he is naturally the "favorite" in my mind, as well as the guy who keeps feeding me these rather strong drinks. BTW, though I will read this after I sober up and before I publish, I promise not to change it so that you get the raw feelings (i.e., the words of a true boozed up bug!).
On a non-Form 1 note, OMG!! Bright sunlight! This is not the Seattle BS about it being a nice day just 'cause the clouds are gone and you can see the glowing mass of helium, but instead this is a beautiful, SoCal envious day. I want to finish the race (lap 60 of 78), then I am debating whether to go outside, or hit the whirlpool/hot sauna/dry sauna. And, in any case, I am following my own advice in that I have purchased another bottle of "Wodka" and will have a glass with me whichever way I go. OK, so this was from Duty-Free rather than a supermarket, but the principle is the same, sort of!!
BTW, Sara and Pietro your English is very good.
CDG to Beauvais
From CDG to Paris Beauvais
As stated earlier, the flight landed in CDG just a couple of minutes before 1:00 PM local time. So far, the trip had been very predictable and uneventful; that was about to change.
My plan was to spend the night in a small town just outside of Paris, a place called Beauvais, in order to catch an early flight out of the Beauvais airport on Ryan Air to Milan. All that was required for me that first afternoon was to make it from Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel i had booked online previously, one which was on the outskirts of the Beauvais airport. Since I was basically traveling from one major airport to another airport in the Paris area, I looked online for the best way to do it, and no less than two separate sources said to take the RER (metro train) in to Gare du Nord (one of the main Paris train stations), then from there take the regional express train to Beauvais, and then catch either a taxi or the shuttle to the town center. Easy. Right.
Finding the RER in the CDG airport was no problem, and I avoided the game that they had played with me at the ticket machine during my last trip (yes, it takes, credit cards, but only European ones with an embedded chip, not the US type with the magnetic strip; yes, it takes cash, but only coins, not paper Euros…). I boarded it only to sit…and sit…and sit. A number of us were on the train, motionless, for about half an hour when an announcement, which I definitely did not understand, caused the entire train to run off, up the stairs, and across the station to another train. Though generally not a lemming, in this case I followed the crowd, and a few moments later the train departed. I still have no idea what the delay or commotion was about, but in any case I was shortly in Gare du Nord. At this point, I was to find the TER (local express train), which was not terribly easy given the size of the station, but in a relatively short time I had found it upstairs, and boarded the train. Unfortunately, I had not been able to find the ticket machine for this part of the trip, but I was tired, and I felt it worth running the risk of being nabbed for fare dogging (besides I could always pull out my RER ticket and give them the dumb, confused American look).
After an hour, the train pulled to a stop at the end of the line, and I (along with a horde of 40 or so children) exited, only to be stopped at the exit machine when our tickets did not let us out. Fortunately, one of the adult leaders for the group of children convinced the overwhelmed ticket agent to let us pass, and I managed to blend in with the crowd as we exited. Don't get me wrong, I would gladly pay the fare for any trip like this, but meet me halfway and show me where the ticket machine is. In any case, I did find the taxi stand right outside the station.
Note that I said I found the taxi stand, not that I found a taxi. Unlike in the US, French taxi stands do not come equipped with taxis. After a protracted wait, it became apparent no cab would be pulling up, and contrary to the online travel guides there was no shuttle bus available to the airport either. I walked about the local area to try to find a cab…no such luck. I attempted to ask for an Internet cafe to call a cab, even paying him a couple of Euros, but I was not able to get my need across to the clerk. Eventually, I ventured back to the station in an effort to see if the ticket agent (yes, the one who had been overwhelmed and let us all escape just a short time earlier) could help me, but he spoke no English. I was beginning to feel I would have to board the train back to Paris and regroup, thinking that I would at least be on familiar turf with a few people around who could speak some English. Fortunately, right before I was about to give up and board the train back to Paris, a reserved taxi pulled up for a customer who had called in, and though the cabbie could not take me due to his prior passenger commitment, he did call a cab for me. (Actually, he spent a great deal of time with me, watched over me carefully to make sure the cab did needed show up, and then refused my offer of a few Euros for his help. While the stereotype of the French as rude is pervasive, and often justified, this cabbie proved just the opposite.)
I handed the driver who just pulled up my very detailed hotel directions, which included not only the name, address and phone number, but even the exact GPS coordinates of my destination. Unfortunately, French GPS systems don't seem to be able to comprehend precision, and after several minutes he tossed the unit back in his glove box, only to "wing it" in the general direction of Beauvais. After forty minutes, and 80 Euros, he did manage to find my hotel.
I'll point out that with only a limited number of Euros in my wallet and no idea what the ride would ultimately cost, I was very much afraid of running out of cash, with no ATM machines around save for the airport (which at this point was much more of a fantasy than an actual reality).
In any case, we reached the hotel, and I had enough Euros to cover the cost, with a few extras left in my wallet to cover the evening. By this time, I had been up for over 24 hours (I could hardly nap on the way over), so I was tired, thirsty, hungry, and achy. As I had ventured through the trip from CDG to Beauvais, I had been constantly promising myself, even fantasizing about, a nice dinner in the hotel and a few drinks in the bar, but it quickly became apparent that this hotel had neither. Rather than a business class hotel, this was a roadway inn, designed for families who pull up in minivans and want to eat at the McDonalds across. the street. In fact, the hotel and McDonalds were the only two establishments in the area, save for an American wanna be restaurant, "Buffalo Grill." While I was close enough to the airport that I could see planes landing and taking off, I was stuck out in "the boondocks," with nothing other than a road hotel, McD, and this restaurant. Additionally as mentioned previously, after paying 80 Euros for my cab ride I was running low on cash, but according to the front desk clerk there was no such thing as an ATM machine in this part of the woods; the nearest cash machine was at the airport. Not to worry, however, as it turned out the Buffalo Grill did take my credit card, and the trip to the airport, I was assured, was cheap and easy: The front desk informed me I could take a taxi, or the shuttle. Not their airport shuttle, mind you, but the public shuttle which was just around the corner.
I went to bed about 8:00 PM, exhausted, but thinking that the worst part of the trip was behind me. Truthfully, before the trip began I had had some premonition about this first part of the trip, a tad concerned that the two leg flight overseas, combined with getting from CDG to Beauvais and then from the train station to the hotel, might be a bit taxing. While my concern seemed to have been borne out, I also felt the worst that could go wrong was behind me: I could see the planes in the distance, and per the assurance from the front desk I had two means to get from my room to my flight. OK, so one other minor glitch was that this cheap hotel did not provide wake up calls, nor did it trust us with an alarm clock in the room, but in any case I had many electronic devices with alarms, and given the timezone change I woke up before my alarms at 5:00 AM. I felt I could relax a bit, as all I needed to do now was to get to the airport for my 8:30 flight to Milan.
Upon waking, I quickly showered, then left my room for the front desk, where I figured I could get them to call me a cab. Unfortunately, little did I realize that in the boondocks, even the front desk deserts town at night, and they would not be back until 7:00 AM. Since I had to be checked in to the flight by 8:00, I felt it was cutting things too tight to wait for them to call a cab, for it to show, then to make it through the checkin line, so instead I figured I would call for a cab myself. The number was on a placard by my phone, and I was able to decipher that to dial out I need to press "0" first. Yes, the outside line came through for me, but the number, apparently, was bogus because it did not call anybody for me. I considered going on Skype to place the call (yes, the free WiFi actually DID work out in the boondocks!), but instead I opted for the shuttle, concerned that even if I did get through to the taxi that I would not be able to communicate where I was or where I want to go. So, with that I opted for the shuttle. Or, at least, I attempted to opt for the shuttle.
After a short walk, I did find the stop, but it was on the wrong side of the road, and since it would arrive at 6:56, that too was going to be too tight for me should it turn out not to be heading in the direction I wanted to go. Again, just as the day before, I was growing frustrated at how difficult a seemingly simple task was turning out to be. At this time, I remembered a third option nobody had mentioned: My bipeds. Yes, since I had seen planes landing in the not-too-distant-far, I felt I could venture off on foot, and as it turned out that was my best of the three. It was a two kilometer walk but within 20 minutes I was there, and checked in.
On a balancing side note, I really shouldn't lament that few people spoke English at this part of France, just outside of Paris. I admittedly felt rather bad that I knew nothing of the French language; for some reason, though I have a natural ability with some tongues (German, Russian, Spanish, even Italian), French totally escapes me. I can read a bit of it, but I cannot aurally comprehend it, nor can I speak it. In any case, language difficulties and boondocks notwithstanding, I had managed to readh the Beauvais airport, and Ryan Air, for my morning trip to Milan.
As stated earlier, the flight landed in CDG just a couple of minutes before 1:00 PM local time. So far, the trip had been very predictable and uneventful; that was about to change.
My plan was to spend the night in a small town just outside of Paris, a place called Beauvais, in order to catch an early flight out of the Beauvais airport on Ryan Air to Milan. All that was required for me that first afternoon was to make it from Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel i had booked online previously, one which was on the outskirts of the Beauvais airport. Since I was basically traveling from one major airport to another airport in the Paris area, I looked online for the best way to do it, and no less than two separate sources said to take the RER (metro train) in to Gare du Nord (one of the main Paris train stations), then from there take the regional express train to Beauvais, and then catch either a taxi or the shuttle to the town center. Easy. Right.
Finding the RER in the CDG airport was no problem, and I avoided the game that they had played with me at the ticket machine during my last trip (yes, it takes, credit cards, but only European ones with an embedded chip, not the US type with the magnetic strip; yes, it takes cash, but only coins, not paper Euros…). I boarded it only to sit…and sit…and sit. A number of us were on the train, motionless, for about half an hour when an announcement, which I definitely did not understand, caused the entire train to run off, up the stairs, and across the station to another train. Though generally not a lemming, in this case I followed the crowd, and a few moments later the train departed. I still have no idea what the delay or commotion was about, but in any case I was shortly in Gare du Nord. At this point, I was to find the TER (local express train), which was not terribly easy given the size of the station, but in a relatively short time I had found it upstairs, and boarded the train. Unfortunately, I had not been able to find the ticket machine for this part of the trip, but I was tired, and I felt it worth running the risk of being nabbed for fare dogging (besides I could always pull out my RER ticket and give them the dumb, confused American look).
After an hour, the train pulled to a stop at the end of the line, and I (along with a horde of 40 or so children) exited, only to be stopped at the exit machine when our tickets did not let us out. Fortunately, one of the adult leaders for the group of children convinced the overwhelmed ticket agent to let us pass, and I managed to blend in with the crowd as we exited. Don't get me wrong, I would gladly pay the fare for any trip like this, but meet me halfway and show me where the ticket machine is. In any case, I did find the taxi stand right outside the station.
Note that I said I found the taxi stand, not that I found a taxi. Unlike in the US, French taxi stands do not come equipped with taxis. After a protracted wait, it became apparent no cab would be pulling up, and contrary to the online travel guides there was no shuttle bus available to the airport either. I walked about the local area to try to find a cab…no such luck. I attempted to ask for an Internet cafe to call a cab, even paying him a couple of Euros, but I was not able to get my need across to the clerk. Eventually, I ventured back to the station in an effort to see if the ticket agent (yes, the one who had been overwhelmed and let us all escape just a short time earlier) could help me, but he spoke no English. I was beginning to feel I would have to board the train back to Paris and regroup, thinking that I would at least be on familiar turf with a few people around who could speak some English. Fortunately, right before I was about to give up and board the train back to Paris, a reserved taxi pulled up for a customer who had called in, and though the cabbie could not take me due to his prior passenger commitment, he did call a cab for me. (Actually, he spent a great deal of time with me, watched over me carefully to make sure the cab did needed show up, and then refused my offer of a few Euros for his help. While the stereotype of the French as rude is pervasive, and often justified, this cabbie proved just the opposite.)
I handed the driver who just pulled up my very detailed hotel directions, which included not only the name, address and phone number, but even the exact GPS coordinates of my destination. Unfortunately, French GPS systems don't seem to be able to comprehend precision, and after several minutes he tossed the unit back in his glove box, only to "wing it" in the general direction of Beauvais. After forty minutes, and 80 Euros, he did manage to find my hotel.
I'll point out that with only a limited number of Euros in my wallet and no idea what the ride would ultimately cost, I was very much afraid of running out of cash, with no ATM machines around save for the airport (which at this point was much more of a fantasy than an actual reality).
In any case, we reached the hotel, and I had enough Euros to cover the cost, with a few extras left in my wallet to cover the evening. By this time, I had been up for over 24 hours (I could hardly nap on the way over), so I was tired, thirsty, hungry, and achy. As I had ventured through the trip from CDG to Beauvais, I had been constantly promising myself, even fantasizing about, a nice dinner in the hotel and a few drinks in the bar, but it quickly became apparent that this hotel had neither. Rather than a business class hotel, this was a roadway inn, designed for families who pull up in minivans and want to eat at the McDonalds across. the street. In fact, the hotel and McDonalds were the only two establishments in the area, save for an American wanna be restaurant, "Buffalo Grill." While I was close enough to the airport that I could see planes landing and taking off, I was stuck out in "the boondocks," with nothing other than a road hotel, McD, and this restaurant. Additionally as mentioned previously, after paying 80 Euros for my cab ride I was running low on cash, but according to the front desk clerk there was no such thing as an ATM machine in this part of the woods; the nearest cash machine was at the airport. Not to worry, however, as it turned out the Buffalo Grill did take my credit card, and the trip to the airport, I was assured, was cheap and easy: The front desk informed me I could take a taxi, or the shuttle. Not their airport shuttle, mind you, but the public shuttle which was just around the corner.
I went to bed about 8:00 PM, exhausted, but thinking that the worst part of the trip was behind me. Truthfully, before the trip began I had had some premonition about this first part of the trip, a tad concerned that the two leg flight overseas, combined with getting from CDG to Beauvais and then from the train station to the hotel, might be a bit taxing. While my concern seemed to have been borne out, I also felt the worst that could go wrong was behind me: I could see the planes in the distance, and per the assurance from the front desk I had two means to get from my room to my flight. OK, so one other minor glitch was that this cheap hotel did not provide wake up calls, nor did it trust us with an alarm clock in the room, but in any case I had many electronic devices with alarms, and given the timezone change I woke up before my alarms at 5:00 AM. I felt I could relax a bit, as all I needed to do now was to get to the airport for my 8:30 flight to Milan.
Upon waking, I quickly showered, then left my room for the front desk, where I figured I could get them to call me a cab. Unfortunately, little did I realize that in the boondocks, even the front desk deserts town at night, and they would not be back until 7:00 AM. Since I had to be checked in to the flight by 8:00, I felt it was cutting things too tight to wait for them to call a cab, for it to show, then to make it through the checkin line, so instead I figured I would call for a cab myself. The number was on a placard by my phone, and I was able to decipher that to dial out I need to press "0" first. Yes, the outside line came through for me, but the number, apparently, was bogus because it did not call anybody for me. I considered going on Skype to place the call (yes, the free WiFi actually DID work out in the boondocks!), but instead I opted for the shuttle, concerned that even if I did get through to the taxi that I would not be able to communicate where I was or where I want to go. So, with that I opted for the shuttle. Or, at least, I attempted to opt for the shuttle.
After a short walk, I did find the stop, but it was on the wrong side of the road, and since it would arrive at 6:56, that too was going to be too tight for me should it turn out not to be heading in the direction I wanted to go. Again, just as the day before, I was growing frustrated at how difficult a seemingly simple task was turning out to be. At this time, I remembered a third option nobody had mentioned: My bipeds. Yes, since I had seen planes landing in the not-too-distant-far, I felt I could venture off on foot, and as it turned out that was my best of the three. It was a two kilometer walk but within 20 minutes I was there, and checked in.
On a balancing side note, I really shouldn't lament that few people spoke English at this part of France, just outside of Paris. I admittedly felt rather bad that I knew nothing of the French language; for some reason, though I have a natural ability with some tongues (German, Russian, Spanish, even Italian), French totally escapes me. I can read a bit of it, but I cannot aurally comprehend it, nor can I speak it. In any case, language difficulties and boondocks notwithstanding, I had managed to readh the Beauvais airport, and Ryan Air, for my morning trip to Milan.
Paris in Springtime
Springtime in Paris. The phrase is famous, and back in October 2010 I decided to make the plunge and actually book a vacation to Europe during the Spring when the weather is perfect, rather than during the Christmas holidays when work is slow but the weather is gloomy. I figured that if I could not take off a week or so with better than half a year's notice, something was wrong, both with Microsoft and with myself. So, with that, prior to Halloween I booked a roundtrip from Seattle to Paris on Iceland Air. Over the next few months I planned many different variations of the trip, from spending the entire time in Paris to visiting Amsterdam, or Hamburg, or Poland, or Spain, or Greece, or any other number of European stops. Finally, I decided upon a Paris in Springtime trip that actually had little to do with France, but was a balance between places I had, and had not, been before:
• One night in Paris at the Inter Hotel City (actually just outside Paris, in a town called Beauvais)
• Five nights in Milan at the Hub Hotel, a city I have never before seen
• Three nights in Erding at the Best Western Airport Hotel near Munich, a city I have seen before and actually did not want to revisit, save for the incredible Therme Erding spa
• One final night in Paris proper at the Millennium Hotel, near the CDG airport.
The trip started off rather uneventfully, leaving work at noon for the Seattle airport. The only cause for concern was that I was flying Iceland Air, through Keflavik, and just the week before another volcano had started erupting. This eruption, fortunately, was not as disruptive as the one from the prior year, so it did not impact my flight. I left Seattle more or less on time, there was actually more room in economy than on some of my previous flights, and I arrived in CDG a few minutes ahead of schedule. So far, smooth sailing.
BTW, I'll point out that while I was in Europe in addition to the volcano eruption, the great German E. Coli scare also erupted (starting in Hamburg, first blamed on Spanish cucumbers, then on German bean sprouts, then retracted a second time and assigned to ???). In any case, I am glad I ultimately opted not to travel to Hamburg during this trip, and also that true to my carnivore roots I avoided all green vegetables, save for some cooked green beans on my very last night in Paris.
In any case, having arrived in Paris, my next my goal was to travel from CDG to the town of Beauvais for the evening, in preparation for an 8:30 AM flight to Milan the next morning. According to the Internet, an easy thing to do; reality would be different.
• One night in Paris at the Inter Hotel City (actually just outside Paris, in a town called Beauvais)
• Five nights in Milan at the Hub Hotel, a city I have never before seen
• Three nights in Erding at the Best Western Airport Hotel near Munich, a city I have seen before and actually did not want to revisit, save for the incredible Therme Erding spa
• One final night in Paris proper at the Millennium Hotel, near the CDG airport.
The trip started off rather uneventfully, leaving work at noon for the Seattle airport. The only cause for concern was that I was flying Iceland Air, through Keflavik, and just the week before another volcano had started erupting. This eruption, fortunately, was not as disruptive as the one from the prior year, so it did not impact my flight. I left Seattle more or less on time, there was actually more room in economy than on some of my previous flights, and I arrived in CDG a few minutes ahead of schedule. So far, smooth sailing.
BTW, I'll point out that while I was in Europe in addition to the volcano eruption, the great German E. Coli scare also erupted (starting in Hamburg, first blamed on Spanish cucumbers, then on German bean sprouts, then retracted a second time and assigned to ???). In any case, I am glad I ultimately opted not to travel to Hamburg during this trip, and also that true to my carnivore roots I avoided all green vegetables, save for some cooked green beans on my very last night in Paris.
In any case, having arrived in Paris, my next my goal was to travel from CDG to the town of Beauvais for the evening, in preparation for an 8:30 AM flight to Milan the next morning. According to the Internet, an easy thing to do; reality would be different.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
