Category: Travel

Since our transatlantic cruise deposited us in Amsterdam, we decided to take an extra day and see what this unique and interesting city has to offer. No, not in the way of the red light district, nor in the coffee houses. Both of these quintessential “Amsterdam” things are embarrassing to the locals. They are trying to disperse the brothels, and make tourist use of cannabis more difficult if not illegal. Signs were everywhere prohibiting public joint smoking, but we could barely walk along the canals without choking on the noxious weed. And why would anyone want to take pictures of women who find so-called sex work a career choice?

If you do word association with “Amsterdam” you’ll get a lot of those two social problems (prostitution and marijuana), but what you should get is history, art, architecture, and even food. Which is what we found. Amsterdam is a very walkable city, and has great/affordable public transportation in metros, trains, busses and trams. We only touched the surface of its artistic riches, visiting the Rijksmuseum to see its holdings of Van Gogh, Rembrandt, and Vermeer. Likewise, the Dutch Maritime Museum has a full complement from the days of the Dutch East India Company, when ships like this brought the wealth of the world home to the bustling ports.

We even found a fabulous little museum called “Ons’ Lieve Heer op Solder” or “Our Lord in the Attic.” Seems after the Dutch separated from the Spanish Catholic Hapsburgs, they instituted an unusual form of religious toleration: every person was free to believe in whatever religion they wished in private, but only Dutch Calvinist churches were permitted public worship. All other religious spaces were confiscated and prohibited. This led to the creation of secret “house churches,” invisible from the street, which the authorities tolerated. One such secret church still exists as a museum!

Dutch food is a combination of hearty northern European fare (potatoes, meat and vegetables in pies and rolls), seafood, and influences from the former colonial territories, especially Indonesia. For example, you can get a tasty peanut satay sauce on just about anything the Dutch serve: I got it on a meatball and pickle sandwich! They also love their croquettes, basically ground up whatever in batter and fried.

The Dutch seem to be struggling with their reputation for being tolerant, well-meaning folk. Take their love of bike riding. It works well for them in a place like Amsterdam, it’s efficient, it’s ecological, it’s healthy. Just don’t get in their way. Think about that for a second. When people drive that way in the US, we call their rudeness out. We watched mobs of Dutch cyclists zooming everywhere, among crowds, cars, and clueless tourists, but somehow this was all ok because, well, why? Rude is rude, even on two wheels.

Likewise, we had to literally shove people out of the way to get on and off the tram, which loads from one set of doors and unloads from another. This system should work well, but on more than once occasion we saw locals just enter the trams and block the door, even after a polite English “excuse me.” And yes, everyone speaks English there.

Tack on the aforementioned religious “toleration,” and the way public drinking and smoking is winked at. Dutch officials spend a lot of time and money on public works just to get the streets cleaned up during the work week, money which might be saved with a little more prevention up front. We’re early-to-bed types, but we heard some partiers at the next breakfast table discussing how hard it was to get down the street between the drunks and the vomit . . . on a Sunday night. The government has even taken to advertising in the UK press telling Britons just to just stay home: no more stag/hen parties!

Verdict? Amsterdam is an interesting place, and a unique one. I’d say it’s worth a short visit, easily accomplished in conjunction with a river/ocean cruise or with a stay over at Schipol airport. Have I seen better art, ate better food, met friendlier people? Yes. But the city itself is so different, and the history so rich, it’s worth it even if you have to cough up some second-hand weed, step over the vomit, or get clocked by a biker.

This post finds you from its origin deep amidst a crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. That itself is a wonder, even in the middle of this instantaneous and omnipresent age of communications. Why are we crossing “the big pond?” That’s a story worth telling, and more.

We’ve noticed that our annual springtime pilgrimage to Europe suffered from the effects of that red-eye flight and subsequent jet lag, costing us a few days recovery every time. We tried preparing for the time change, avoiding the free alcohol, adjusting our eating, flying premium economy or even business class, but these only partially mitigated the effects. In planning the trips, I became resigned to getting a decent flight schedule and just adjusting from there. Then a neighbor mentioned he and his wife no longer flew to Europe in the Spring, they took a repositioning cruise there. I questioned adding the cost of a cruise on to the cost of visiting Europe, and he pointed out that the approximately two week cruise cost about the same as round trip business airfare.

Of course I thought he was kidding, but when I researched it, there it was in black and white. Seems every Spring, cruise lines sortie parts of their fleet from America to Europe (mostly the Mediterranean) to position the ships for summer cruising. The return trip in the Fall sets up all those Caribbean cruises in the Winter. There are some smaller fleet movements in the Pacific and to/from South America, but we were interested in the transatlantic leg.

Why are they cheaper than most cruises? First off, they involve different embark and disembark locations, on different continents, which make them more challenging for vacation planners. Second, the nature of the trip is mostly open ocean, and most vacation cruisers like port calls. Third, it’s always two weeks, in Spring and Fall, which means families really can’t afford the time commitment. So the clientele is older retirees, frequent cruisers, and people like us trying it out for transport. All of this applies to the repositioning cruises. There is also one line, Cunard, which operates the Queen Mary II and does a week+ direct cruise between New York and England throughout most of the year.

One thing I noticed immediately is that the best deals pass quickly. While most people don’t even consider transoceanic cruises, the number of those who do is growing and they are passionate about them. Such travelers snapped up the best deals. We ended up on the Celebrity Silhouette leaving Fort Lauderdale for Bermuda, the Azores, Ireland, then Amsterdam. While this is our first Celebrity cruise, we have cruised many times on other lines, and here are some lessons learned:

• Use a travel agent (TA). I usually do all my booking myself, but there are so many variables to a cruise, and TAs also get volume discounts and other freebies, making them worth your while.
• If you don’t see a great deal on the cruise you want, book a cheap inside cabin and watch for “sales” and “bids for upgrades.” Join CruiseCritic (.com) and register with the appropriate roll call board for your ship. There the cruise fanatics (and they are legion) will let you know everything you need to for a great cruise. Since transatlantic cruises are still rarely full, there will almost certainly be a chance to upgrade, almost always at a reduced price. The same goes for extras like drink packages, internet access, spa access, and specialty dining. Your TA and fellow cruisers on CruiseCritic will be able to help you navigate when to purchase what you want. For example, on our cruise, we got a basic internet package as part of our room, but we hesitated to upgrade to streaming internet because of the cost. Once on board, Starlink access was offered for a very reasonable rate. On the other hand, I am told that specialty restaurants are much cheaper to reserve before the cruise.
• Transatlantic cruises are not for those prone to seasickness, nor for first time cruisers. Our crossing has been a rainy, cool-but-not-cold, and choppy. Everybody walks with that brush-your-left-shoulder-on-the-port-wall, brush-your-right-shoulder-on-the-inner-wall wobble. Not something you want to face if suffer seasickness, or don’t know if you do. Not to mention whether you will enjoy “at sea” days back-to-back-to-back.
• Explore your ship. We found a little known quiet lounge tucked under the spa, which has proved a godsend when the weather sends all those sun-worshipers off the top deck looking for a place to park for the day. There are drink stations, small bars, game rooms, even a library, all of which might escape the eye of the incurious cruiser.
• On a two week cruise, pace yourself. Last year we did ten days on a Panama Canal cruise, and felt like we almost ate ourselves to death. We had just begun intermittent fasting, which for us means eating only breakfast and lunch. But for the cruise we thought, “what the heck, let’s hit the specialty restaurants for dinner.” Bad idea. This cruise, we have kept to our routine, and it is working for us. We have received increasingly concerned voice mail messages in our room, reminding us we haven’t visited the main dining room for dinner, and “do we need help?” I guess there aren’t too many intermittent fasters on cruise ships.
• Most cruise lines retain the nickel-and-dime routine, so that what you spend in the end is generally greater than what you paid up front. Virgin Cruises is an exception, and we look forward to trying them in the future. But you need to pay attention to what your room, status, and packages entitle you. Our “classic” drink packages gets us unlimited booze, but not “top shelf” liquor or some specialty drinks. We get all the special coffee drinks at the cafe, but not carbonated water, except from the tap at the bar. I know, what? There are charges for classes, specialty drinks, flights, shore excursions, you name it. So be careful, or you’ll end up doubling your costs (but not necessarily your fun).
• If you recall cruises as stuffy affairs requiring dressy clothes, you’re out of date. Even the “classy night” (replacing “formal night”) is just a collared shirt and pants for men, dress or slacks & top for women. Some folks go full-up formal, but that’s no longer a requirement. Mostly they don’t want beach/gym wear in the formal dining room, but it’s ok in the many cafes, snack bars, and bars.
• Cruising remains extrovert heaven, with an opportunity to sit with strangers at every meal, bar, or event, along with games (trivia, password, etc.). But the mixing fun is not mandatory. For introverts like us, there are plenty of hiding places and tables for two.
• One curiosity is that ship’s time is set by the Captain, not the position on the Earth. Our Captain has moved us ahead one hour per night, getting us to the upcoming port visit time a day early, so no one is showing up confused about what time it is. The day-after-day time changes are much easier to deal with than the all at once six-hour change of a red-eye flight to Europe. Many frequent cruisers tell us they prefer the westbound Fall trip, as they gain an hour every night enabling increased night owl activity. To each their own.
• Cruise lines vary in temperament: there are party lines, classy lines, lines for families, lines for retirees, although all folks are welcome on all cruises. There are also specialty cruises for wine-lovers, music fans, etc. All of which is to say do your research and find out whether the ideal transatlantic cruise you want is also a Star Wars theme cruise, especially if you’re a Trekkie.

Was it worth it? We’re almost done, and I can confirm the time changes are far less dramatic and easy to adjust to when done once every other night. The cruise entertainment has been better than I expected, but still just worth the price (i.e., already included), and the sea days can become a little monotonous. With a little more attention to pricing and deals, and an earlier start in selecting which cruise line/route, I’d say this is an attractive alternative. Slainte!

Forty years ago, at the height of the Cold War, a lowly US Army First Lieutenant took his pregnant wife on a week-long vacation (we didn’t have the fancy term “babymoon” back then) from Bavaria to the Balearic islands. They spoke no Spanish, had no cell phones, and had only a 1:250,000 government map to navigate by. They stayed in a tourist-package hotel near Magaluf, one which targeted Brits, evidenced by a full English breakfast and the London tabloids at the front desk. The hotel next door was for Germans: it had brötchen mit käse and the Süddeutsche Zeitung to read. From this the 1LT learned that Americans weren’t unique in wanting things from home, even on vacation.

Only his pregnant wife had an international driver’s license–a must back then–so the Lieutenant was reduced to the role of navigator. They got lost, more than once, on mountain roads, looking for a religious relic in a remote village, following a tiny line on a large map (insert your favorite Lieutenant with a map joke here). They arrived in small towns without any ability to ask for directions or even for help. They sought and found a convent offering a unique local pastry by walking around a village until they saw a nun, then following her home. They ended up on a “bilingual” cave tour where the local guide described the cave formations for ten minutes in Spanish, then stopped and said. “The Madonna. See? The Madonna.” They attended a silly recreation of a knight jousting competition (complete with eat-roast-chicken-with-your-hands) because it actually made sense regardless of the language.

It was their first great travel adventure. They survived, proof that there are Guardian Angels and they do look after fools and children (the couple qualified both ways). It was a great success, and they had stories to tell which still amuse themselves and others to this day.

When we started on planning a visit to try out the region of southern Spain, Judy asked me if we would be far from Palma de Mallorca? Why, no, and so here we are, forty years later, back where all the wanderlust started. The Cathedral still stands as mighty and majestic as always, but there’s an entirely new chapel with a Antoni Gaudi influence. The arch which was a must-see in the 1980s (“it had a mix of Roman, Muslim, and Christian influences”) is only a footnote now, found via Google Maps. One can’t get lost, even navigating the winding backstreets of the old city, because GPS tracks your every step. And the little lanes and winding country roads are now well-lit streets and highways courtesy of the European Union.

We speak Spanish, but everybody speaks English, too. Oh, and some German here. There are still little hotels catering to Brits and Germans, but who needs newspapers when your smart phone is in constant touch with news back home. On our last night, the hostess at the tapas bar heard us speaking English, so she assigned the English-speaking Argentine waitress to our table. When Judy started ordering in Spanish and we explained our home in Mexico, the waitress loved it. We even found a little Catholic church back near Magaluf, where the very English congregation holds one English-language Mass every Sunday with a very Nigerian priest presiding. Such is the world today!

Mallorca retains its unique culinary traditions, a mix of Spanish and North African, as translated by the Catalan settlers who civilized the islands. Plenty of delicious seafood, rabbit (like Malta), olives in every form, and of course tapas. The road signs are a mix of Mallorquin (local Catalan dialect) and Spanish, which at times even defeated Señor Google Maps. We traveled among the locals, visiting Sunday markets and strolling through the plaza, secure in the knowledge that even in a tiny village, we could find a kebab place for lunch–because who doesn’t want kebab for lunch? Apparently the whole word does!

We walked, we drove, we wandered, seeing how much had changed and how little, too. Mostly we recalled how much we had changed . . . and how little, too! The Balearic islands are known for partying, nature, and glitz (Mallorca, Menorca, and Ibiza respectively, although there’s a mix on all three). We were then youngsters “putting away childish things” and becoming adults. We had dreams of children and career and travel. Now we’re far more mature–at least in years–and we have realities of grandchildren, retirement, and still travel.

Perhaps Buckaroo Banzai was right: “no matter where you go, there you are.”

What’s better than being an expat? Maybe an intercontinental expat? A Tri-national? We’ve noticed that every Spring, we like to head to Europe for a few weeks. It is the period of the worst weather where we live–although I would note it is still not bad weather, per se, just dry and warm (90 F) with no rain in sight. And it’s shoulder season in Europe, with improving weather there but without the large throngs of tourists and expensive airfares. We would spend more time there in Europe, but we get tired doing the bag-drag as we visit all those wonderful places. Which got me to thinking, which is always dangerous, as my wife likes to say.

What if we got a holiday home somewhere in Europe, where we could go and stay for an extended period of time. How long? EU rules permit tourists to stay 90 days out of each 180, so an April-May-June period is doable. I considered Airbnb and its variants, but we don’t want to be trying a new place every year, and there is no guarantee you can get the same place. We don’t want “a” place, we want our place. But what kind of place?

Has to have great weather during the target dates. Small city or village, not big urban setting. Apartment or small house; we don’t need a big property, and can’t have a yard or garden to maintain. Are such things available, and affordable? Turns out they are! We’re not talking about those One Euro houses you sometimes see advertised: here’s two words of advice on those–JUST NO! But reasonable and affordable small homes and apartments are available for a few tens of thousands of US dollars! Why?

Many European countries are on a population downslope, a decade or more ahead of the US, which is experiencing the same phenomenon. In brief, there are two sets of aging grandparents with one child each, the coupling of which has one child. So there are three households, many times in small cities or villages, and only one young adult to inherit them. This adult wants to live in the big city, where there are jobs and opp-or-tunities (as Eminem sang), not in Grandma’s village. So these small houses are for sale, and there are many of them, which drives prices down. The trick is to find one which doesn’t require enormous renovation, is livable, and is in a town not on the brink of itself expiring.

My basic research indicated two target areas: southern Spain (Andalucía) and southern Italy (Puglia and Sicily). Both have great weather and many available properties. Spain has a well-developed expat market paved by Brits back before Brexit. Italy has the same for Americans returning to their Italian roots. Spain has a language advantage (for us), a better, high-speed, rail network, and allows tourists to own cars. So we made our way to Andalucía to see how it feels.

Much as Jalisco summons up Mexico, Andalucía calls to mind Spain. Tapas, Flamenco, bull-fighting, Jamon Iberico, and more history than anyone can possibly consume. Córdoba and its alcazar, Málaga and the sea, Granada and the Alhambra. It all felt oddly familiar. We had no language difficulty at all. We refused to adopt the Ca-thil-ian lisp, but no one paid our “esses” any attention. A few times we caused some confusion with a pronunciation gaffe, but generally everybody was welcoming and genial. The culture was easy to adapt to, with the exception of the hours. They keep to the afternoon siesta, but eat another meal around 10:00 pm! Given we have taken to eating only breakfast and lunch, we got along fine, but I have no idea how Spaniards do it, eating so much so late. And it remains the case that nothing happens before noon on Sunday, owing to Saturday’s late night revels.

The weather in January is about as cold as it gets here: 50-60 daytime, 40-50 nighttime. Bright sun most days, with fair skies. Cafes are still open, and restaurants have outdoor heaters. Even the beaches are still active, although more for exercise than sun-worshipping. The summer can get beastly hot (>100 F), so air-conditioning is probably a must, heating a maybe. Spring might require neither.

Andalucía passed all our tests. We probably won’t go looking for a place in the big, touristy cities, even in the suburbs. But we saw plenty of smaller towns and even villages that were attractive options. Welcoming culture, great food and weather, good-to-great transatlantic options (including a nonstop from Guadalajara to Madrid): All boxes checked. Come Spring, we’ll give Southern Italy the test!

Back after Christmas, we flew from Tijuana back home after getting stranded by bad weather. As a result, we ended up with a large credit on Volaris, a discount Mexican airline beloved by those who are under 5 feet 4 inches, travel with only a purse, and don’t really care what day you depart or arrive, as long as the cost is under $50 USD. I exaggerate. Only slightly.

Being a discount airline, Volaris helpfully expires your credit after only six months, relieving you of the burden of actually using them. Some of our hefty credit was about to expire, so we decided to risk another spin on the Volaris Wheel of Fortune. But where to go? Why not Baja California?

During our Christmas cruise, we visited Cabo San Lucas and Todos Santos, at the very bottom of the peninsula; so this time we headed back to Tijuana, to see the area inland at the very north of the peninsula, called la Ruta del Vino, which lies just north (and inland) from Ensenada.

This area, the valle de Guadalupe, is where 90% of Mexican wine is produced. Mexican wines have a growing reputation in the wine world, based on two important facts: the first is European vintners who wanted to go to the New World and try something new, and the second is Baja’s unique climate, which has many of the advantages of California’s wine growing regions without the costs.

Our concept was simple: fly up during the week, hit a few of the two hundred-plus wineries, eat at a few promising places, then come back home before the next weekend’s crowds. There was one flaw: Volaris. They attempted to involuntarily change our itinerary twice before the trip, once moving our departure back a day, the other time changing our three-hour afternoon return flight into an overnight red-eye. I was able to adjust and keep the flights as we wanted. But of course, Volaris had the last word. When we arrived for our afternoon departure from Guadalajara, they announced a three-hour delay (no explanation, no weather, just sit and wait). We also got to enjoy Volaris’ unique boarding and de-boarding processes, modeled after those you might have last seen at Kabul international airport.

After surviving the one-row-at-a-time deboarding (which sounds good, but when one’s hand baggage is not directly above one’s seat, and you can’t get up to get ready until the flight attendant approves, it’s achingly slow), we found the 24-hour Alamo car rental kiosk empty. The taxi hawker told us he knew where Alamo’s office was; they were supposed to be at the airport, but of course they weren’t. As the taxi took us ever further from the airport area and into Tijuana, Judy finally got the Alamo office phone number to work, and they informed us to turn around and go back to a different location, where we finally got our vehicle. As this was the week after the Standard time change, we didn’t arrive till after dark. So our leisurely and scenic afternoon drive along the Pacific coast turned into fighting rush hour in Tijuana, then driving in the dark along the unlit roads of the Baja interior wilderness.

And by wilderness I mean no streetlights, few road signs, and one (count it, one) paved highway. Topping it off, Waze decided a route over the mountain was a few kilometers shorter, so it sent us that way instead of on the highway through the valley. The blessing was that in the dark, I couldn’t see the cliffs we were snaking around. It was not a promising start.

Still, the morning dawned and we saw what we had missed the night before: the natural beauty and bounty of Baja. We had a cabaña at one of the boutique wineries, set amidst the vines. This is a growth industry: nearly every winery we saw was adding acreage, building cabañas, or enlarging tasting venues. The valley is close enough to San Diego that there is a steady stream of Americans taking day trips on guided tours, then there are the shore excursions from ocean cruisers, and finally the more adventurous types (like us) just arranging it all on their own.

We have never been to Napa, but based on what I read and heard from others, the valle de Guadalupe could be described as either a poor-man’s Napa or Napa many decades ago. The vineyards are in, the wines are improving, the wineries are branching out into tours and restaurants. Higher-end gastronomic experiences are spreading, featuring fresh seafood and exotic fusion cuisine. There is a small but increasing set of gastropubs and microbreweries, too. The infrastructure remains pretty basic, but is geared toward American tourists. Most of the working locals we met at tastings were surprised to find gringos who spoke (or at least tired to) español and lived in Mexico.

Since we primarily eat breakfast and lunch, and our hotel provided a freshly made breakfast plate each morning, we were limited in our ability to sample the cuisine. One of our two lunches had to be at la cocina de Doña Estela, a local favorite once named the world’s best breakfast restaurant. Down a rutted dirt road, in the middle of nowhere (Baja, remember), we had a huge steaming plate of machaca (dried shredded beef re-hydrated while cooking with eggs, peppers, onions, etc.) and another of corn pancakes, a savory take on a usually sweet breakfast staple. With drinks, the total was around $500 MXP (perhaps $25-30 USD), and the portions large enough we could have skipped our first breakfast that morning. We didn’t, because like all hobbits, one must eat both breakfasts!

As to wines–we did come here to taste the wines after all–we had an enjoyable time sampling a variety of types of wineries. Again, one can’t miss L.A. Cetto, the largest Mexican winery and local mega-producer. This winery aims at the low-to-middle class market, aiming to make drinkable products for the average consumer. I’m no expert, but I am in the target demographic, and we liked their offerings. At the local wine museum, the curator told us her favorite boutique vintner was Magoni, so we tried that one, too. This was an intriguing, new winery in a beautiful location. We sat under a giant tree which had been cultivated to provide a tent-like canopy over about a hundred tasting seats and tables. Another enjoyable experience.

There are so many vintners experimenting in Baja you can find almost any combination: organic? Si. Straight traditional varietals? Si. Obscure blends? Si. The lure of a start-up region which doesn’t have many rules is attractive to some in the industry, who like working with unusual blends and varietals

Advice for visiting Baja? Either come midweek on your own, or get a tour. Many of the larger wineries (for tastings) and restaurants insist on reservations on weekends and during the high tourist season, and a tour will cover you for these. There are plenty of small, independent operators who won’t break your budget, and they help out local small business-types. I would plan to visit at least one of the scenic, high-end restaurants with a view for a sunset dinner. If you’re on your own, don’t overdo the tastings, and make sure your rental car has some off-road capability (most do). Don’t be afraid to try the seafood: its fresh and delicious! I doubt the wines are world-beaters (if you have that type of palate) but it might be fun to visit and taste at a place that eventually will be world-class. Enjoy!

Continuing our tour of obscure European locales which merit your traveling attention, we bring you: Malta.

Again you’re thinking: “wait, I know this one! It’s an island. It’s small. It played some role in World War II. It has knights.” All true, and although the knights are all gone, their effect is lasting.

Located midway between Sicily and Libya at a narrow point in the Mediterranean, and also midway between Egypt and Gibraltar, Malta is the epitome of strategic location, whether in the age of knights, corsairs, or U-boats. The island boasts amazing weather, reminiscent of lakeside: sunny, warm, with a rainy season primarily in the winter, although it doesn’t get very cold here. Befitting its history, Malta is an odd mix of cultures, languages, and traditions. It has some of the oldest standing archaeological structures in existence, an amazing port, oodles (a technical term) of history, beaches and resorts. There is something for everyone here, and plenty of sunny weather to go and do it.

Cuisine is a mix of Italian and north African, with a dollop of recent English on top. The language is unique: it is Semitic, heavily influenced by Italian and French. It reminds me of Italian written by someone on a keyboard with the letter “x” stuck. But since the English grabbed Malta after Napoleon briefly had it, everybody understands English, although the locals all speak Maltese, too. They’re part of the EU, so travel is easy and the Euro is the currency.

For thousands of years, Malta was a simple place most famous as a refuge for ships in its grand harbor. During the Roman Empire, Saint Paul was shipwrecked here on his way to Rome. He converted the locals, and other than that, it was a cozy, sleepy island in the sun. When the Ottoman Empire eyed the White Sea (their term for the Mediterranean) and Rome, Malta became contested territory. This led to Suleiman the Magnificent’s Great Siege of Malta in 1565 (Muchas Gracias to my friends who recommended the book Empire of the Sea!), an epic land battle where a few thousand Knights Hospitaller (formerly Knights of Saint John, later Knights of Malta) and Maltese militias held off tens-of-thousands of Muslim Janissaries, Sipahis (cavalry), cannons and ships. The land battle preceded the great naval battle of Lepanto which left the Ottoman Empire in control of only the east and south, with various Christian rulers in the north and west of the Mediterranean. The Knights built a new city/fortress in honor of their victorious commander, Jean de Valette, and Valletta was born.

Malta resumed its quiet history until World War II broke out, then it played a vital role preventing Axis’ domination of the Mediterranean. A German-Italian blockade brought the island and garrison within two weeks of surrender due to starvation, but it held out, and later was the headquarters for Eisenhower’s largest amphibious operation, Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily. (Great bar trivia bet: Husky was indeed larger–more troops, larger landing zones– than Overlord!).

But enough of all that history! Malta today is a thriving, independent nation. It is a very Catholic (literally) place: the only city where we saw as many churches as Valletta was Venice, and here the churches aren’t museums or art galleries, they’re active parishes! We stayed primarily in Valletta so we could walk around and take in the sights slowly. The challenge of driving a stick with the wrong hand on the wrong side of the road (apologies to my British friends) seemed unrelaxing, what?

The most surprising structure in Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s, the Knights’ own headquarters. From the outside, it is just another sandstone building, but when you enter, you’re confronted by a degree of baroque extravagance that is hard to fathom. The church was initially rather plain, befitting a military order full of men who took a vow of poverty. But as the Knights accrued wealth in their military campaigns, they donated it to the order, which kept adding to the opulence in their headquarters. This was the result:

The many side chapels belong to the national groupings and were decorated by them. The entire floor of the chapel comprises Knights’ burial plaques :

Finally, I can’t depart without showing Caravaggio’s Beheading of John the Baptist, a legendary work of chiaroscuro located in the Oratory:

Malta’s other military endeavor is also well represented by the Lascaris War Rooms, a series of underground bunkers which the Allied forces used to manage the defense of Malta and later the Sicily invasion. Like Churchill’s War Rooms in London, the facility has been restored to its original setting and is an impressive still-frame of history before the age of computers, satellites, and instant communications.

Belying the notion there is nothing new to see, we chanced upon a monastery housing a group of cloistered nuns who opened their original rooms for tours. . . for the first time in 400 years. Still no interactions with the Sisters, but we got to see how they lived and dedicated themselves for those centuries:

We took advantage of the English heritage to access some cuisine lacking at times back in Mexico: Chinese and Middle Eastern. But we also indulged local flavors:

The nation of Malta includes three primary islands: Malta, Comino, and Gozo. Gozo is the less developed little brother with just as much scenery and history. We took a jeep (no really, a jeep, not a Jeep Wrangler) tour that left me with flashbacks from my Army days, but some stunning shots, too:

There were too many museums, forts, churches, and cafes to list. We enjoyed Fort St. Elmo and rabbit, the grandkids liked the Malta 5D experience with moving seats, wind gusts, and water spray.

We didn’t hit the resorts or beaches, but there were numerous ones to visit. I think water sports in general are a big thing here, and there are many small boat/sail tours which provide a day of sun, swim, and snorkel. We did enjoy the sights and tastes including rabbit, which comes close to being the national meat of choice:

Shhhhhhh. I’m going to let you in on a secret, but you have to promise not to tell ANYONE, OK? Covid is gone, or should I say, we’ve stopped caring about it, and travel is back with a vengeance. And that means the crowds are back: the tourist buses, the cruise crowds, the extended families in matching outfits traipsing through the museum. Add in social influencers taking selfies as if the whole world is their stage (“isn’t it?”) and digital nomads turning any neighborhood into an Air BnB wasteland, and well, you get the picture. The only thing missing at this point is the mega-tours of Chinese travelers, but wait another six months and they’ll be back, too.

The secret? Oh, that. You don’t have to deal with all of these travel annoyances. And you don’t have to be rich to avoid them. You just have to know where to go, and where NOT to go. The throngs tend to, well, “throng” at the same places at the same time. They don’t do their research, don’t consider their options. They travel as much to say they’ve been there as to experience anything in particular. If they visit a place no one else recognizes, it defeats the whole purpose for them. But this presents an opportunity for the savvy traveler.

A prime example is Slovenia. No, not Slovakia. You know, that little country directly east of Italy up by the Alps? Yes, that one!

It was a small but prosperous part of Yugoslavia until that country broke apart in 1991. It was ethnically distinct (Slavic and Catholic) and geographically compact, so after a brief ten-day “war” Yugoslavia let it go independent. Which was a real blessing, as Slovenia escaped all the bloodshed and turmoil witnessed by Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, et al. Slovenes instead busied themselves joining the EU and NATO, trading freely and building up their infrastructure.

What does Slovenia offer?

First off, convenience. It is centrally located in Europe and easy to get to. It’s small with an excellent road system: you can drive across the country in three hours. It uses the Euro, and because the education system incorporated mandatory English language classes, nearly everybody speaks English. Yes, the place names and Slovenian language are a challenge, but the Slovenes we met were happy with a “hvala” and “prosim” (thank you and please).

Second, it’s beautiful on multiple counts. Like rolling farms with vineyards and meadows? Check. Alpine hiking and views? Check. Pristine streams and lakes? Check. Hiking trails, ski resorts, caves? Triple-check. Quaint villages and local diners? Check. If you like your travel to include amazing landscapes, Slovenia has one specifically to take your breath away.

Third, it’s interesting. The cuisine is a mix of influences: Balkan, Austrian, Hungarian, Italian. The ingredients are very natural and organic: locals are interested in making and having the best of their produce, not labeling it, marketing it, and selling it elsewhere. Its history is Europe’s history. There are Roman, Venetian, even Byzantine ruins, little known World War I battlefields, baroque architecture recalling Vienna, and pieces of Yugoslav Communist kitsch.

Fourth, Slovenia is small-town friendly. There are only about two million Slovenes. Theirs is a developed nation with a rich history, but they don’t care to crow too much about it. Furthermore, they haven’t been inundated with tourists yet, so we’re still welcome here.

Fifth and finally, Slovenia is on sale. Being off the beaten path, undiscovered on TikTok, means prices are still reasonable. How so? Farm-stay bed-and-breakfast with huge breakfast buffet: 80 Euros a night. Dinner for two with apps and drinks: 60 Euros.

We stayed in the karst region, with all the caves, for three nights at the already-mentioned farm. It made for a leisurely pace to visit the massive caves at Postonja and the impressive castle at Predjama, which are only about ten kilometers apart. Postonja Jama (cave) is touristy in a good way: easy to get to, easy to park at, with a dual track mini-train doing the hard work of getting you deep into the system, and back out again, and solid audioguides to explain what you’re seeing. But as with any natural wonder, perhaps it’s better just to sit back and take in the beauty. No “turn out the lights” tricks or claims about ghosts, pirates or aliens; just a pretty, large, natural wonder.

Predjama castle bills itself as the “world’s largest cave castle”: who knew that was even a thing? It is an impressive structure with (of course) a medieval legend about a Robin Hood-esque knight. The tour highlights how the castle, built over and into the mouth of a cave system, provided safety above all else. But it also emphasized how ingenious the builders had been to make the place as livable as possible.

We did a day trip to Lake Bled, which may be the photo op extraordinaire of Slovenia. No doubt you’ve seen the pictures, even if you’ve never visited! The day was overcast with some light rain. We took the traditional pletna boat (rowed out to the island). There is no color/warmth editing in these photos:

You could easily walk around the lake in a few hours. . . you could, we didn’t, as the occasional rain told us to find a restaurant with this on serve:

It only took us thirty minutes to drive from Lake Bled to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. The old city is small and nestles around the river under a cliff-top castle. While the city has modern neighborhoods that sprawl out from there, the center is very walkable with good transportation options, including a free mini-bus even in the pedestrian zone. The influence of centuries under the Hapsburgs shows in numerous cafes and pocket parks. There are also interesting elements of baroque architecture (especially the Cathedral of St. Nicolas), art nouveau, and even brutalist buildings from Tito’s reign.

Sadly, the steady rain followed us from Lake Bled, so we spent the next few days dashing about under umbrellas and rain jackets. Happily, there are many (many) cafes and bars to duck into for a forced cappuccino or Aperol Spritz!

The old town area is achingly cute. You can barely turn a corner without seeing something quaint: a museum, a restaurant, a curio shop.

Slovene cuisine tends toward meat (especially sausage and game) and potatoes, although I did find a restaurant with pizza rolls in the menu, a sure sign of highly refined culinary culture!

There are a number of good museums covering music, art, natural history, national history and the like.

Ljubljana was a real winner in our book. Good food, great scenery, and a walkable environment. We met service staff that were very friendly, and others who were bored with their jobs. Tipping is minimal here, so perhaps that plays a role. Three days is a good visit, and that leaves you time to visit the natural beauty of the coast, the vineyards, the lakes, and of course the mountains.

But go soon, as Slovenia keeps popping up on travel sites as one of the next big things!

Most travelers either have gone, or someday plan to go, to Italy for the Big Three: Roma, Firenze (Florence), and Venezia (Venice). We’ve done it, and highly recommend it, staying at least three days in Rome, two in Florence, and one night in Venice. Such a visit is fairly easy to accomplish, with easy access to either end from international airports, and excellent train connections between them. And of course all three welcome tourists, although Venice has become a little more circumspect of late. It is well worth it, and each city presents unique and complementary aspects.

But I’m blogging today on a different kind of Italy visit: getting off the well-trod path of the Big Three and seeing the Italian countryside in a more personal, less touristy way. You can pick almost any region of Italy to do this kind of visit, but we’re staying in Tuscany, so that’s the example I will use.

What makes this kind of slow, local travel more interesting? First off, it’s the absence of the checklist effect. You know, the Rome? Colosseum: check. Vatican museum: check. Forum: check. And so on until you can’t remember what-you-saw-where or what-you-ate-when. The funny thing about staying in a small village or region is that there will still be nice museums, great restaurants, amazing views, friendly locals, cozy enotecas (wine bars) and pizzerias. You might not be at the one everybody else is doing TikTok videos from, but the one you’re at will be (1) less crowded, (2) less expensive, and (3) just as good.

The interesting thing about staying local in Italy is nearly every region, every village, has something interesting to do and very good places to eat. Italians take pride in how they live, and that extends to all aspects: a bad restaurant is an affront to the village, not just the owner. And as any Stanley Tucci fan knows, every region has unique local cuisine that must be tried and enjoyed. So don’t fret about staying in an out of the way place: it will be great!

But where to stay, if you’re not in a tourist-friendly hotel chain near the center of a big city? I’d recommend choosing either a castle-stay or an agriturismo. Many entrepreneurs have renovated castles, keeps, or watchtowers into boutique hotels in Italy, and they are comfortable and available. They might be a little on the expensive side: you’re paying extra for the experience. And you might have to carry your bags across the moat. But then again, you’ll be able to complain about having to carry your bags across a moat. Who gets to do that?

As to agriturismos, these are government-regulated farm stays. To qualify for the government funding, the property must be an active farm which provides some measure of room and board. There are such farms which welcome you to join in the chores, and many more with a bed-n-breakfast(+) design. You’ll get farm-fresh meals, cozy accommodations, and a chance to meet real locals. While there are a wide range of prices, they can be very affordable.

Once you’ve selected a region and settled on a home base, now comes the fun part. Ask for local recommendations for things to do and places to eat, and limit how far you’re willing to drive. Did I mention driving? Many caution against driving in Italy, and I fully understand why. But that prohibition stands mostly for the big cities. Italian drivers are aggressive (not dangerous, just not defensive), city streets are narrow, parking is limited, gas is expensive, and there are ZTLs (Zona a Traffico Limitato): places where only registered locals can drive, where you as a tourist can get a big fine. But to get around the countryside, driving is fine. Here in Tuscany, the local roads are wind-y, narrow, and full of cyclists. Car trips take time, and the driver doesn’t get to enjoy the beautiful scenery as he/she dodges italianos bent on breaking a personal best on their Colnagos. Remember, the town, castle, or restaurant two hours away is probably no better (just different from) the one five minutes away. Stay at home and visit, and limit the driving.

Now go back to the same places at different times. In a week, you can become a veritable local at the village osteria! Or work your way down the village square hitting every local establishment. Ask for different gelato flavors every day at the nearby gelateria. You can drive yourself (literally) crazy chasing after the next-better wine tasting in Italy, since wines like Chianti Classico and Montepulciano d’Abruzzo aren’t that far apart. And that’s just the DOCs: don’t even try to compare vintners within each DOC: your liver will never make it! (I know, I tried).

We’ve stayed local in Tuscany twice now, and it’s been very rewarding. There are those little hang-ups which make the trip more memorable. Ever have a multi-hundred Euro heating bill at the Hilton? Of course not, but if you heat your castle room with propane, you might! But you forgot to bring your servants and firewood to the castle, now didn’t you?

My dear wife has made it her life’s work to eat Ribollita, the hearty (almost a stew) Tuscan vegetable-and-bread soup at nearly every restaurant; she can even discern the differences in which vegetables and bread are used! For my part, in smaller villages, I’ve found it possible to dress up a little bit and not have everybody automatically think I’m an American. . . of course, the minute I open my mouth . . .

You can still day-trip into those more famous places, experiencing those crowds and selfie-stick hordes, secure in the knowledge that when you’re fed up with it, you can hop back in your Fiat, motor off into the countryside and breathe!