Today I would have taken my group to “mad” (entirely sane) King Ludwig’s fairytale Neuschwanstein Castle. Folks invariably enjoy it, albeit amazed at the tourist swam. Afterward, we sit down to a picnic… Continue reading
I had to take a moment when I walked out of Amsterdam Centraal Station. All around me Italians were burbling, Spaniards were lisping, and the Dutch were clearing their throats with the somehow… Continue reading
“When I was a boy, I knew what I wanted to be.” My assumption was beginning when he filled in the answer. “A cowboy!”
The Wizard of Oz doesn’t let you take pictures. Looking around his close-shouldered toyscape of fragile wooden forms and clustered vintage artefacts, that was understandable. Besides, I already had enough photos from outside,… Continue reading
“Mi scusi” is Italian for “Excuse me.” You might hear it when someone interrupts, or steps on your foot, or when the maid opens the door to your hotel room without knocking, two… Continue reading
They have a community, these men. They have formed a new edition of an ancient tradition, society’s subtext of foreigners who do not pertain, but belong anyway.
There’s something terribly cliche about loving Paris. It’s like loving chocolate, puppies, and The Princess Bride. Of course you love those things. So does everyone else. Not interesting. After reading the 10,000th love… Continue reading
“You are going to Beaune?” said the French sisters, their fine Parisian brows lifting in Gallic surprise. “Yes. Why? Is it…not nice?” My slight trepidation. “Non non non!” They reassured. “It is very… Continue reading
The most interesting thing about the Hotel Kranenturm is not that a very active German railway line passes a few meters from your room, periodically shaking the building with the thunder of gargantuan… Continue reading
“The Tuscan Frying Pan” had been in fine frying form all week, but at 8:00 AM the air was the sort of warmthy and goldeny and pillowy that makes so many people write… Continue reading
