Calm Before the Storm...

Amsterdam, Holland

December 30, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

The tourists are pouring into they city in droves to celebrate the New Year. Today, instead of braving the crowds, we steered clear of the city center and explored our neighborhood. We’re staying in an apartment in the Jordaan district; a hip, trendy, and at times swanky, neighborhood, just a few canals west of the center of the city. It has a feel similar to Polk St. in San Francisco, from Lombard to California.

Shelby and Dustin returned from their day trip to Brugge around 11:30 this morning after getting stuck in Antwerp for the night (train issues… no more to be said). They showered, slammed a couple cups of coffee, and we hit the streets of the Jordaan shortly thereafter. We wandered through little cafes, sat next to the canal and grabbed a few beers, and played some eight-ball in a coffee shop. It was nice to explore the canals and the neighborhood without rushing to see a certain site... no plans, just time.

After several stops and hours later, we made it to Restaurant Cinema Paradiso for an early dinner. The restaurant is similar to Foreign Cinema in San Francisco, illuminating classic movies on the screen as customers dined on pizza and pasta. The food and movies at Foreign Cinema are better, but we still had fun since we were with the whole crew.

During the day tomorrow we'll head to The Hague, avoid the crowds in Amsterdam, and see another part of Holland. Don’t worry though; we’ll be back in time to bring in the New Year with the masses. Happy New Year!

A Taste of Reality...

Amsterdam, Holland

December 29, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

Today marks eleven months since we left San Francisco on our adventure, The Big Trip. We still remember how anxious we were before we embarked on our trip. We’ve seen a lot, done a lot, and enjoyed every minute over the past eleven months. However, now that we’re only one month from going home we are starting to have a “reverse” anxiety. Let me explain.

Before we left on our trip we counted down the months, the days, the hours, we were very excited to go, but at the same time we had a feeling in our stomachs; an ache that represented the unknown. I remember our last day in our home before we left. We both stood in the kitchen crying; unsure of what the next several months would bring. We weren’t scared, we were ready; but at the same time we were diving into a space we had never been to. It brought an adventure that is for sure!

That familiar pit in our stomachs is back, but now it’s anxiety related to re-entering society—getting jobs, moving back into our home and living what many people call a “normal” life. Returning home and the end of our trip, comes up almost daily in our conversations. We catch each other pondering; thinking about what it will be like at reentry.

Marc told me the other day he feels like an astronaut (we are in Amsterdam). He feels like he’s been in space, weightless, no responsibility except for doing what he loves, traveling. However, the shuttle is headed back to Earth. Gravity is beginning to take hold, feet feeling heavier, and thoughts about reentry. The last week will feel like hitting Earth’s atmosphere… turbulence, tiles flying off the wings, God I hope the parachute ejects! Once on the ground he can “really” only explain his journey to other “astronauts”… the good news is I’m an astronaut too in Marc’s world. We will have stories of our trip to share forever.

I seriously doubt we’ll stand in our last hotel room, in Tokyo, looking at each other amazed we survived the year together. I think we will feel triumph for successfully spending a year together, a year really understanding each other, a year becoming closer, a year simply being a traveler and never once engaging in a no-holds-barred all out brawl.

We spent the day, our 11 month milestone, doing laundry, a necessity when sitting in smoke-filled brown cafes. I even sewed-up a hole in my jeans, something I would never do at home. I would do what every other good American does—throw the jeans away and buy a new pair, but since we’re still tracking to our budget I don’t want to blow it on a new pair of jeans. I will wait until we get home.

Our final month will be as fun as the last eleven months as we wrap up Europe, explore our own country’s capitol and relax on the beach for a few weeks to cap off our trip. We will continue the job search, but for now our lives in San Francisco are still unknown. If it turns out like the past eleven months, then I guess we shouldn’t worry.

Lets Gogh Crazy...

Amsterdam, Holland

December 27, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

After two back-to-back holidays, the streets were again buzzing with activity. In retrospect, we enjoyed the quiet streets to ourselves, not worrying about being run over by a bike or a random car; free to wander the numerous canals, take photos and simply enjoy the quiet of Amsterdam. It really is a beautiful and unique city, with all the canals, leaning houses, and cobbled streets.

We made our way to the Van Gogh museum today; we weaved our way through crowds of people arriving in the city to celebrate New Year’s Eve, grabbed a Strippenkaart, rolled out to Museumplein, and found ourselves three feet from Sunflowers in less than an hour. The memorable works from the obsessive artist did not disappoint us as we got lost in the museum for a few hours. Our favorite work was Wheat Field with Crows and thought it would look good over our large sofa… we’ll have to keep our eye’s peeled to see if it ever goes on a 50% off-sale.

We snapped back into reality as we stepped back out on the beautiful streets, right into a cold wind and the lead sky of a setting sun. It was around 4:30 PM, the lamps along the canals were glowing orange, and we decided it was time for lunch/dinner. The whole crew ducked into a recommended Indonesian restaurant for some traditional food. BTW… good choice!

With the night still young, we continued to explore the city, constantly taken back by the beauty. We peered into trendy restaurants, checked out menus and vowed to come back another night when we didn’t just eat. As we strolled along the canals we looked into the windows of families celebrating the holidays. Christmas trees, presents, empty bottles of beer, turkey, and gravy boats. It’s odd. Many people leave their window blinds open all day and night; allowing perfect views of their tidy little abodes. As we continued our walk we found a few houses in our neighborhood, the Jordaan, with houses decorated for Christmas… nothing that compares to Mel & Bev and Bob & Kathy.

There’s a lot to see in Amsterdam; thank goodness we have several more days to explore all of the intricate canals, shops and markets of the city.

Amsterxmas... (Censored)

Amsterdam, Holland

December 25, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

V.2.0
It was a very mellow Christmas in Amsterdam to say the least. The euphoria from our first night in Amsterdam finally wore off after two days, the fog lifted, I could think, and see, clearly again. Even today, two days later, I’m blaming my lapse of memory, bad jokes and inability to walk straight, on the our first night back in Amsterdam.

One thing I know for sure… Christmas is the time to be with family. Even though we’re having a wonderful time in Amsterdam, I still wish I was home enjoying the chaos of Christmas. I know Marc is my family, but the comfort of Mom and Dad never goes away regardless of how old you are. We’ll be home next year for sure!

We each took turns calling our family to say Merry Christmas over the last few days. I might have called more than once, I have to admit. It sounds like everyone at home is having a grand time, as usual. They might miss us, yes, but the celebration was as much fun as if we were there.

After a great egg scramble for brunch and a long walk through Amsterdam, we added a few real ornaments to our tinsel tree and ended up with a beautiful tree/centerpiece. We’ll keep the tree decorated throughout our time in Amsterdam and then pack it up in the tube it came in and use it next year.

Tomorrow is another holiday in Amsterdam, Boxing Day, so things will remain mello. An easy day-trip to Harlaam or visiting one of the museums will be how we’ll start the day; nothing real exciting… but who knows how things will end.

Chicken in Amsterdam...

Amsterdam, Holland

December 24, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night…

As we approach midnight here in Amsterdam on Christmas Eve, our bellies full from a traditional meal of chicken, stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans. The meal turned out okay even with the limited tools in the house, especially the lack of an oven and a descent knife.

After dinner we got into the Christmas spirit by watching Christmas episodes of “South Park,” including a few special Mr. Hankey Christmas episodes. We sat around our tinsel tree decorated with beer coasters—very classy. It does the trick for Amsterdam though.

Our family is in our thoughts even though we are thousands of miles away from them. This is the first Christmas I’ve ever been away from my family and I know I’m very lucky to have Shelby and Dustin here with us. It helps to ward-off the bouts of home sickness we’re feeling; especially after being gone for so long.

We’ll have a nice Christmas brunch tomorrow morning before heading out to explore the city. We expect most businesses to be closed over the next few days, so we’ll take long walks through the parks, along the canals and pass through the Dam at least five or six times… all in an attempt to soak-up as much of Amsterdam as possible.

Merry Christmas Evening...

Amsterdam, Holland

December 23-24, 2007
N52°22.800
E004°53.320

When we were in the planning phase for our trip, we always knew we would spend Christmas and New Years in Amsterdam. Today was the day we made the trek from Brussels to Amsterdam to kick off Christmas and enjoy some of our last days in Europe, and the last days of our trip, as a whole. All of us, Shelby, Dustin, Marc and I, boarded the 12:19 PM train to Amsterdam.

We enjoyed a few days in Brussels, taking in the beauty of the town square, the light Christmas Light show at night and an opera in the square on Saturday night. Unfortunately, numerous police officers roamed the streets, on high alert, after 13 terrorist suspects were arrested and released the following day in Brussels. The Christmas markets were packed with tourists and locals doing last minute Christmas shopping.

(Marc): This is where we need to pause our story. Laura is hard-at-work in the shitty little kitchen in our apartment in Amsterdam. She’s doing her best to make a Christmas dinner to be “remembered” (hamstrung by crappy tools) and unfazed by the challenge of cooking a 2.5 kg chicken in the Sharp R-852W Magnetron (combimagnetron) oven. We’ll make sure to give an update on the outcome within the next couple days… of course that depends on tonight’s dinner ;-)

Bitter Cold Day in Brussels...

Brussels, Belgium

December 20, 2007
N50°50.807
E004°21.151

After climbing out of bed we peeked out the window; it looked bitter cold outside. The sun was covered by thick clouds and fog was rolling through the streets. Over the past few days the sun was able to shed the clouds providing a little warmth for a few hours a day, but today, it appeared we would have to bundle up and bear it.

As we were pulling on all of our layers (t-shirt, long-sleeve, thin sweater, thick sweater, fleece jacket, Gore-Tex wind-breaker, gloves, scarf), I realized I left my favorite hat in Jef and Erna’s car when they dropped us off. I was more worried about taking a picture with them then having all of my stuff. Oh crap, I hate it when I lose things, especially when it is bitter cold and I need a hat!

After breakfast we headed out into the streets of Brugge and quickly found a funky, wool, Rastafarian hat in a little boutique to keep my head warm. With the mission accomplished, and my ears warm, we grabbed our bags and headed to the train station for a quick train ride to Brussels.

The sun, still hiding behind a thick layer of fog, peeked out occasionally, forcing you to squint for a few seconds before disappearing again. I stared out of the window at a canvas of white. Frosted fields, frozen ponds, and trees covered in ice, blurred together during the one hour ride. Marc and I talked about the possibility of having a true white Christmas for the first time. It wasn’t snow, but the ice and frost were so thick it gave the illusion of snow; blanketing everything in a brilliant white.

In Brussels, we walked uphill for a mile and a half before we found our hotel. The hike, with the weight of our pack, caused us to work up a little sweat, but as soon as we slowed down we were chilled to the bone by the zero degree Celsius temperatures outside.

After unloading our gear we ventured back out into the cold. We wandered through the streets of Brussels scouting out a few good pubs and restaurants for tomorrow night. Our good friends Shelby and Dustin arrive tomorrow and we’ll spend Christmas and New Year’s together; we figure a few drinks and a good meal in Brussels will be the perfect way to kick-off the holidays!

Beer With The Locals...

Brugge, Belgium

December 19, 2007
N51°12.520
W003°13.486

Since we struck out on the local brewery tour yesterday, we made sure to wake up early enough to catch the 11 AM tour. Originally, we wanted to join the afternoon tour to avoid drinking beer before noon. I always feel like a loser when I drink beer before five o’clock, but as Marc says… it’s always beer-thirty somewhere.

The tour was fun and since we weren’t ready to go back out into the cold, we decided to enjoy a pint of unfiltered blonde Brugse Zot. It was still cold outside, so after we finished the blonde we figured we better try the Brugse Zot brown. After our second pint, and feeling much warmer, we were ready to brave the cold.

We made our way to Brugge’s infamous Church of Our Lady where there’s a beautiful and rare sculpture of Madonna and Baby created by Michelangelo. The sculpture is the only Michelangelo outside of Italy and was a reminder of our days traveling through the great churches and museums of Rome.

After lunch at the Market Square we decided to warm up again and scope-out one of the pubs recommended in our Rick Steve’s guidebook. De Garre is hidden down a little alley and up a few steep steps. The cozy, little, pub has a half a dozen tables downstairs and a few more upstairs. We were lucky enough to snag a table located in front of the bar that seats four.

As the afternoon wore on, we tried a winter beer on tap and the bar’s personal label; both very tasty, traditional Belgium beers. The tables quickly filled up as people out shopping ducked into the bar to warm-up for awhile and we offered to share our table with a local couple who took a day trip into Brugge.

Jef and Erna live nearby in Middelkerke which is located right on the North Sea. We talked to them over another beer, shared our story and learned about their family and grandchildren (three girls, ages 12, 7 and 5). After a couple beers and some great conversation Jef and Erna invited us to see their home and to enjoy dinner with them. We were a little hesitant at first, not wanting to impose, but then figured they were such nice people—why not???

We headed off in Jef and Erna’s car through city streets, onto a highway and then along the very dark coastline of the foreboding North Sea. When we arrived at their home, a condo on the top floor of a building overlooking the sea, we had sweeping views of the sea and the casino below. The casino lights illuminated the sea behind it, making it possible to see the waves crashing against the sea wall. Their home was beautiful and decorated nicely for Christmas with a beautiful tree in the center of the bay windows.

After an aperitif and more wonderful conversation, we headed across the street to the casino for dinner. Jef and Erna recommended the chef’s choice of the day—fresh fish right out of the North Sea. We all enjoyed our meal and conversation about the United States, Spain, Belgium and travel, in general. We encouraged Jef and Erna to come and visit us in San Francisco and since they enjoy casinos, they should add Las Vegas to the trip. Hopefully, sometime in 2009 since their 2008 calendar is already full, we’ll be able to welcome Jef and Erna to our home in San Francisco.

After dinner we jumped back in the car for the 20K drive back to Brugge. We made sure to snap a few pictures with our new friends outside of our hotel before they headed home. It was a very special evening with wonderful people… people we hope to see again.

Bundled Up in Brugge...

Brugge, Belgium

December 18, 2007
N51°12.520
E003°13.486

Today it felt a little warmer outside, we weren’t sure if it was really warmer, or (heaven forbid) we are actually acclimating. As we were walking along the canals, we noticed they were frozen. I tried throwing a few rocks to see if they would go through the ice —they bounced off and skidded across the surface… well, so much for our theory of it being a little warmer.

We weaved our way through the streets, braved the cold and did our best to explore Brugge, yet another UNESCO heritage site. Marc snapped picture after picture of the brick buildings, brick bridges covered with moss and brick churches. The reflection of the bridges off the dark ice covered canals was a site I’ll never forget.

When lunchtime came around we headed to the market square to taste one of the local specialties. A kettle about three feet in diameter was steaming with a cooked product. Right next to it on another burner was another kettle, the same size, with all the same uncooked ingredients and was on stand-by. The mixture included chopped potatoes, large chucks of soft cheese, rosemary, oregano, small chunks of bacon, salt and pepper. When cooked, the cheese melts, covering the potatoes, and the bacon grease saturates the entire molten, gooey, tasty treat. Marc and I decided to share a serving since it looked so rich; however, the potatoes were very mild with the perfect amount of spice and cheese.

While we were in the market, we scoped out our meals for the next few days. There are plenty of options such as lumpia, falafel pita, bratwursts, hamburgers and, of course, French fries. The fries come with your choice of sauce—mayonnaise, ketchup or a spicy tomato/mayonnaise blend. Mayonnaise is the sauce of choice with the locals and in the words of Vincent Vega, “I’ve seen ‘em do it, man. They f’n drown ‘em in that shit.”

After lunch we tried to catch the afternoon brewery tour; unfortunately, it was completely booked. So instead we had a few beers in the brewery tavern, warmed-up, and decided we’ll try to make the tour tomorrow.

So far, Brugge is living up to expectations, it’s a beautiful town with plenty of sites to explore and best of all… the beer is really, really good! After all, it is Belgium.

Waffles, Chocolate and Beer...

Brugge, Belgium

December 17, 2007
N51°12.520
E003°13.486

Our first trip on the train in a few weeks was an easy hour and a half ride to Brugge. We had a quick transfer after two stops, boarded a Belgium train and zipped through to the Brugge station. As we exited France and made our way into Belgium we looked out at the frost covered pastures, frozen ponds, and grazing sheep in their full wool jackets. The sun was resting low in the sky, shadowed in fog and low clouds, trying to break through; looking more like a full moon than the sun.

After arriving in Brugge we jumped on a local bus into town and bounced along the cobblestone streets of Brugge. While we were on the train we talked a little bit about what we thought Brugge was going to be like. We figured it would be decorated for Christmas and look like something out of a fairytale, or Santa’s Village.

The picturesque town, dating back to the 11th century, with gilded architecture, multi-colored brick buildings and imposing bell tower was decorated with Christmas trees, lights and an ice skating rink in the middle of the town center. Yet, another city to get us into the Christmas spirit… especially since we’re only 8 days away from the arrival of Ol’ Saint Nick!

Since today is Monday, most of the main attractions are closed. Unfortunately for us, that means we’ll have to spend our time tasting the famous Belgium waffles, chocolates and, of course, sampling a few of the beers.

Back on the Rails...

Lille, France

December 16, 2007
N50°38.217
E003°03.794

Our road trip came to an end today when we returned the rental car to Avis. The rental car was unscathed and so were we, except for the $100+ to fill up the tank prior to return; diesel runs $7.20 a gallon. It was nice to take a break from the rails and see the countryside of France; it allowed us to see things we probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise, like Dinan.

After dumping the car, we loaded our packs on our backs headed off on foot to find a place to stay in Lille for the night.

The town of Lille, France was happening on a Sunday night, people flooded the streets; even though very few of the restaurants were open. We weren’t sure if it was standard Sunday night activity, or if more people were out in preparation for Christmas. The town was decked out with Christmas decorations, lights and a giant Ferris wheel. We bundled up, cruised the streets with the locals, grabbed a gallette, our final one in France, and headed back to our room to thaw out and watch a couple episodes of The Simpson’s… in French, of course.

We’re back on the rails tomorrow, and our first ride back on the train will be to Brugge, Belgium. The town was recommended to us by Pat and Randy after their visit in September (before meeting us in Italy). We know one thing for sure… it’s guaranteed to be freakin’ cold!

A View From Pointe du Hoc...

Pointe du Hoc, Normandy, France

December 15, 2007
N49°23.762
W000°59.182

Operation Overlord was more than just full scale attack on the beaches of Normandy. At Pointe du Hoc 225 US Army Rangers made an assault on a 30 meter cliff that overlooked both Utah and Omaha beach. It was believed the Germans had large guns mounted at Pointe de Hoc that would cause massive causalities if not destroyed prior to D-Day. The plan was simple… just hours before the assault on Utah and Omaha, the Rangers would land on the beach below the cliffs at low-tide, use rope ladders to scale the huge sea wall (while avoiding enemy fire), capture and destroy the large guns from the Germans, and radio back to command when the job was complete. No problem.

The night before D-Day, the Allied Forces dropped tons of bombs on the areas where the forces would be landing the next day; hopefully forcing some of the Germans out of the area and essentially “softening-up” the beaches prior to the landing. The area around Pointe du Hoc was severely damaged by the bombs the night before; however, the Germans still remained as the Rangers attempted to scale the walls.

As the Rangers tossed their rope ladders up the cliff, the Germans would cut then down and riddle them with small arms fire, a soldier would fall to his death, and another man would take his place, throwing-up his ladder and begin scaling the wall. Their job was to capture the guns and there was no turning back.

After several hours of ferocious combat the US Rangers were able to proudly report that their mission was accomplished, and their brothers, preparing for the attacks on Utah and Omaha beaches, wouldn’t have to worry about the guns at Pointe du Hoc. The Rangers started the day with 225 men and finished with 96.

Today, we had the opportunity to see where the proud Rangers did their work on D-Day. Approximately 30 acres of land surrounding Pointe du Hoc was given to the US Government by France in 1979 and the area remains pretty much the same as it did in 1944. The bomb craters are clearly visible. German bunkers are a bit of a wreck, but they still remain, barbed wire still winds through weeds and mounds of earth, and the massive gun turrets still overlook Omaha to the right and Utah to the left.

We slowly walked through the site, taking our time, looking down the cliff to the sea below, amazed at the bravery and paying respect to the Rangers of Pointe du Hoc. When we were sufficiently frozen, with our scarves wrapped up to our ears, we headed back to the car for a little warmth. We were very happy we took the time to see Pointe du Hoc, another important piece of D-Day history for Americans.

A History Lesson...

Omaha Beach, Normandy, France

December 14, 2007
N49°21.551
W000°51.197

It was another cold winter morning; our breath made large clouds of smoke in front of our faces and frost covered everything in site. Inside the car we were nice and warm, but the temperature outside oscillated between -2 and 1 Celsius. We knew it would be really cold at our destination, Omaha Beach, since the winds would be ripping off of the channel.

We pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, bundled up in tights under our pants, gloves, scarves, hats and several layers of clothing. We got out slowly, bracing ourselves for the cold and, at the same time, knowing what we were about to see changed the history of the world as we know it today. The soldiers who rest in peace in the cemetery fought for freedom and paid the ultimate price in one of the most infamous battles in history.

As we walked out toward the cemetery, I looked down upon Omaha Beach. There was a steady breeze coming up the bluff making my eyes water, but the waves were calm and the surrounding area beautiful. I tried to imagine the scene in the water on 6 June, 1944, D-Day, and the largest amphibious attack in history of war. The water was full of ships, and Higgins Boats, designed by Andrew Higgins of New Orleans, for this exact moment in history—the day the Allied forces would bring wave after wave of men, in mass force onto the French Coast, reclaiming France from the Germans and, ultimately, defeating Germany.

The boats were designed to unload equipment quickly by dropping a large ramp in the front of the boat. The plan was to get close enough to shore to unload hundreds of thousands of men, tanks and equipment, circle back, and get more of everything to quickly unload. However, the tide was rough that day; the captains of the Higgins Boats couldn’t get close enough as Germans were shooting at them from above, from the exact area where I am standing today. From my vantage point it was clear that anyone on the beach that day would have been an easy target.

For Operation Overlord (code name for D-Day) to be successful, there had to be an element of surprise. The Germans felt the beaches of Normandy were an unlikely location for the Allied forces to attack. The Allied Commanders did their best to confuse the Germans by building false air strips, military bases and leaking false-intelligence to support the German’s belief that the attack would surely happen to the north, in the channel closer to London.

As the men (really young boys, most 18-23 years) were in the waters, headed to their designated beaches, a speech was simultaneously read to all men. In the words of Dwight D. Eisenhower:

“You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.”

In the morning of 6 June, 1944, when the Germans looked down onto the water, they were surprised. Literally thousands of ships were off the shore of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Sword and Juno beaches and steady streams of boats were coming ashore. It must have looked overwhelming. The Americans were responsible for Utah and Omaha, unarguably the two toughest beaches.

The rough waters prevented several of the boats from getting close enough to shore for the ramps to work properly. The ramps were lowered, men jumped out, only to find themselves underwater with 90 pounds of equipment on their backs. They had two choices at this point—cut off the pack or drown. Unfortunately, for some, they couldn’t think fast enough and they simply perished before they reached the beach.

The boats that did make it closer had to avoid booby traps created by the Germans. Most of the traps were underwater mines; exploding and killing entire ships of men. The greatly important Sherman tanks drove off the end of the ramp and simply sank into the water. Only two of the tanks actually made it onto the beach that first day. The men who did make it to the beach had very few supplies; some had no guns, no ammunition, no first aid supplies and no food. However, those brave men found a way to survive and persevere.

At Omaha, the Americans lost thousands of men, and as Marc and I turned away from the water and looked at the Crosses in the perfectly manicured lawn. There are over 9,000 American soldiers buried in the cemetery; Crosses and Jewish stars, in perfectly lined rows stretched as far as we could see.

We walked across the lawn, reading several of the names, ranks, home states; many perishing in June and July of 1944. I read the names aloud, no one else around to hear, I wondered when the last time anyone uttered their names. Robert Scott, Ruel Sanford, Jimmie Monteith. When was the last time someone thought about these men? Who were their families, who were their friends, what did they imagine they would grow up to be? Most importantly… will they be remembered in another 60 years?

With our faces frozen, our noses running and hands numb, we headed back to the Visitor’s Center. The center shows short movies commemorating some of the men who fought that infamous day. One of the men turned down a promotion to stay in the front line with his comrades; another, a surgeon, asked for a transfer from a safe hospital to care for the injured on the front line, never telling his wife who was home with two kids; and one more, a pilot from Ceres, CA who thought he was invincible after fighting in North Africa and Sicily.

As we walked through the cemetery, we saw a group of French students on a field trip. The teenagers, acting like teenagers, ran through the cemetery, snapped pictures and somewhat listened to their teacher. We wondered if these kids really understand the significance of what the Americans and Allied Forces did for their country 63 years ago, or do they only know the America of today—the one in Iraq under false pretenses. We can only hope future generations continue to understand the importance of 6 June, 1944, D-Day.

“To those we owe the high resolve that the cause for which they died shall live.”

A Nice Surprise in France...

Dinan, France

December 13, 2007
N48°27.018
W002°02.657

Our journey north through France continued a little before 11:00 AM. We only wanted to make it to a little town named Dinan. According to the map, the drive should be 150 KM; a little less than 100 miles. No problem, after being on the road for several hours yesterday, a two hour drive would be a breeze.

The view across the countryside was much more enjoyable today, especially since all of the fields were covered with frost. It was nice to look out of the car window, but I didn’t want to venture outside since the outside temperature registered at -1C; it definitely sounds warmer when you think of it as 31 degrees Fahrenheit.

Luckily, the drive was very easy (especially since I was the passenger) and we arrived in Dinan a little before 1:00 PM. We found a recommended guest house inside the old castle walls and set out to explore the town. The Old Town, or area within the castle walls, was built in the 14^th century; again reminding us how young our country is.

Dinan ended up being a quaint, picturesque, village we thoroughly enjoyed; taking us back to our visit of Cesky Krumlov. At night, the streets inside the castle walls were decorated for Christmas, thousands of lights and trees illuminated our way. We finished our night in at a local pub that has been in business for over 20 years and enjoyed a pint of a French stout and the company of the bartender and a couple locals.

We enjoyed our time in Dinan, even if was only for one night, it was one of those little surprises we’ll look back upon fondly.

Passing Through Bordeaux...

Bordeaux, France

December 11, 2007
N44°49.597
W000°33.404

As we passed through Irun, Spain into Hendaye, France, we were instantly thrust into another language and culture. Our quick “si, si” became “we, we,” and our “gracias” became “merci”. After spending the majority of the past two months in Spain and Portugal it was a challenge to just switch gears and turn on our grade school French, if you want to give us that much credit.

Today’s relatively short journey finished in Bordeaux, France where we grabbed a room close to the train station, since we are only staying for one night. Plus, the train station is only a short walk from a restaurant I scouted out and have been looking forward to visiting over the past 2-3 weeks, Cassoulette Café. After tapas and pintxos for nearly every meal over the past two weeks, I was really looking forward to a piping hot cassoulette, the perfect cold weather dish.

I fondly remember my first cassoulette. It was at Angel’s of Russian Hill, a very exclusive, invitation only restaurant in San Francisco. One winter night, when we were invited to the restaurant, the set menu included a savory cassoulette complete with duck confit, chicken, small chunks of pork and haricot beans. The entire dish was baked to perfection in a small casserole dish, with the right amount of bread crumbs on top. As we ate with the chef, we complemented her on the tasty dish; perfect for the cold, foggy San Francisco evening.

It was this exact dish, complete with duck confit and cannelini beans, I envisioned and craved, on this chilly winter evening in Bordeaux, France. I was positive Cassoulette Café, where you pick your ingredients, would provide us, well me, with what I desired. As we walked through the city of Bordeaux, cold winds making our noses and eyes water; I couldn’t stop talking and thinking about the warmth of the dish. We even made sure to walk by the restaurant to ensure it still existed—Marc suspected, with all its build-up, it would be closed-down, like so many other over-hyped restaurants on our trip.

When dinner time rolled around, we bundled up and set out for Cassoulette Café. After we were seated our waiter explained the menu and I quickly realized I wasn’t going to find the savory fare I was looking for. Instead, in France, a cassoulette, or casserole, is anything cooked in a terra cotta casserole dish. The taste of beans, duck and chicken evaporated and I quickly had to male a choice between zucchini or potatoes au gratin.

I have to admit, the dishes were good, but I am still in search of the perfect cassoulette. I hope I don’t have to wait for another invitation from Angel’s of Russian Hill, because as everyone who has been invited knows… the menu is never the same twice!

The Angry Bay of Biscay...

San Sebastian, Spain

December 10, 2007
N43°19.542
W001°59.064

The calm, serene sound from the waves crashing outside our window quickly turned loud and angry, booming and reverberating off of the buildings. The blue waters of the Bay turned frothy and milky white as the waves crashed over the seawall. So large at times they reached the building we’re staying in across the street.

Our room is on the third floor of the building, but it was not spared from the repeated crashes throughout the night. On at least two occasions the waves were so large that they actually reached our balcony, knocking over a chair, a plant, and blasting open the inner door to our bedroom. There were literally gallons of water on the balcony, 3-4 inches deep. On previous nights we slept with our door to the balcony partially open and the storm shutter half way down to let the sweet ocean air into our room. Luckily, maybe it was a premonition; we battened down all the hatches last night.

This morning, after lying awake most of the night due to the merciless sounds of the waves, we opened the wooden door to assess the damage. The balcony floor was covered with dirt from the uprooted plant, the chair on its side, and an inch of saltwater slowly drained into the street. The glass railings protecting the balcony were hazy and covered with sea salt. We could hear the sounds of an electric drill and hammer working feverishly. Where, we do not know. The waves, obviously tired from last night’s performance, were bouncing off of the sea wall, as the sun shone down upon them—at least for a brief moment.

We’ll head out today, our last day in San Sebastian, and continue to explore the city. It will be the first days the stores are open since arriving. Hopefully, as we head out the winds and rains will have died down, and tonight the unforgiving Bay of Biscay will remain calm and allow us to sleep—to enjoy the peaceful, serene sounds of the waves crashing.

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When we finally headed out into the streets this morning, we turned towards the sea and witnessed the destruction from last night’s performance. The railing along the sidewalk promenade was gnarled and tossed aside, a parking meter, uprooted from somewhere, was in the middle of the street still on its concrete base, boulders the size of very large beach balls littered the street. The windows of our building were knocked out on the first and second floors, as was all of the glass to the balconies, the worst damage in the unit just below us.

Each time the wave crashed throughout the night, I could hear the “Whoomp” before it crashed down; however, I had no idea of the damage and destruction the sea was causing only a few feet below us, even tearing the paint off of the exterior wall.

As we stood on the street, taking pictures and making videos, the sea once again splashed over the sea wall, drenching us. I have a feeling the large crashes will relentlessly continue tonight. Maybe we should stay a little further from the water during our trek up the Atlantic Coast.

An Immaculate Day in Spain...

San Sebastian, Spain

December 9, 2007
N43°19.542
W001°59.064

The waterfront along Playa de la Concha is packed with both tourists, mostly Spanish, and locals alike. Even though people are out walking for exercise, they’re immaculately dressed in furs, jewels and stylish boots. The woman are out strutting their new winter fashions, it’s almost like a catwalk in the middle of December, I bet it’s even crazier in the summertime when the beach is packed with sun worshipers.

We enjoyed the walk along the waterfront. Not only did it allow us to enjoy the views of the Bay of Biscay and dogs and people playing on the beach, but it gave us our daily exercise. When we reached the western end of the walk, we realized we were with the same group of people throughout the walk, we smiled and acknowledged them. Literally, hundreds of people were out walking, enjoying the day, yet another holiday in Spain, Immaculate Conception Day.

The children that were able to reach the end of the promenade were circled around several eight inch holes in the granite walkway. When the surf came in a burst of air would shoot up through the holes, blasting them with a gust of mist and wind. One young girl, who couldn’t have been more than seven, bent over looking directly into the hole as the wind shot-up, it shook all the skin on her face and sent her hair straight up into the air. Other children stood near the rail overlooking the bay, providing warnings of giant waves that were advancing. You knew a big blast of air was just seconds away when the children would scream and run away from the rail; of course, always too slow to avoid the splash of a giant wave, soaking them to the bone.

As we made our way back to the center of town, people were exiting churches and pouring into the streets. Dressed in their Sunday best, many made their way to the closest pintxo’s bar, while others grabbed fresh baguettes and headed home for their holiday meal. Marc pointed out what a strange phenomenon it was that all of the baguettes the women were holding were missing the ends… hmm?

One thing that struck us as being incredibly odd on this day, a weekend, just a mere sixteen days before Christmas, is how all the stores were closed? Not just mercados, but clothing stores, electronic stores, toy stores… pretty much everything except pintxo bars! A holiday weekend, with tons of tourists in town, a great time to make some money as a business owner; it would be unheard of to close-up-shop in the States. But this is one of the best things about being Spanish; it’s all about quality of life. There’s plenty of time to shop before Christmas rolls around. How much time do you really need to by a few gifts? No one seemed to be stressed about the stores all being closed; they were simply enjoying the time with their families and the holiday weekend.

Think about it… maybe the stress Americans feel is self-induced. Maybe we should worry less about the number of presents and constant shopping and worry more about quality time with family, friends, and of course, wine and pintxos!