Notes on restaurants

Posted on October 28, 2025 by Catherine

Exceedingly good falafel

When we were on our food tour way back on Monday our guide recommended a particular falafel place in Le Marais if we were in the area again. Falafel sounded awfully good, and the restaurant was a few blocks away. It was great! Not only was the food perfect, no one yelled at me (a la New York Jewish places, for example). It was jammed, a little crazy, but we were seated right away and it was all “Bonjour!” and “Bonne journee.” Tables were literally inches apart so we ended up talking to the older man and his elderly mom at the next table. They were from Quebec, on their way back from a gorilla excursion in Africa. She is still travelling at 87!

Stray from your list

Feel the vibes and leave if you do not feel comfortable. One of our last evenings I got out my list and we headed to a recommended place. Walked out…just didn’t feel friendly. We kept going and wandered into Comptoir des Archives, a casual, kind of jammed small bistrot, and immediately felt good. I had duck confit and roasted potatoes which were both delicious, as was David’s veal stew with rice. Small wooden tables, some jostling to get seated, and a great meal.

Marches couverts

If you visit one of the marches couverts and want food to eat there, do not be shy about asking for help (after saying “bonjour” of course). You may have to muscle your way to a counter, or ask where you can sit with food from the pasta place, but do not hesitate. They are happy to feed you and these are friendly spots where spontaneous conversations are the rule. While at Marche Couvert des Enfants Rouges we met a wonderful woman from Brazil (now a Parisian), an insanely good looking couple from Florida who were working their way home from southeast Asia, directed a lost tourist to where you could buy a glass or bottle of wine. The boys from Florida summarized their trip as “Loved Cambodia, hated Viet Nam.” Anyway, one of them had been Netanyahu’s makeup guy at a television station in Israel. “The guy is a total asshole and NEVER goes out without makeup.” Explains a lot about his relationship to dear leader. The terribly nice woman from Brazil who took our picture and even though she understood English did not let me resort to it. “Only French!” she demanded. Such fun.

Museum Find, Lunch Find, and Lots of Walking

Posted on October 27, 2025 by Catherine

Musee Marmottan Monet

From the metro stop to the museum was a walk in a large park.

Oooh, this was a delightful surprise. I have in truth seen enough garden and water lily Monets in my lifetime and was unenthusiastic thinking it was all Monet. Yes, there is a large Monet collection but the special exhibit was L’Empire de Sommeil…an entertaining collection of paintings from many eras of people sleeping. We loved it! The accompanying book was too heavy to bring back so I am ordering it when I return, I hope. This is one of the museums a bit off the path and you do not need a time of entry ticket–just show up. So glad we did.

Le Bois, our lunch find

Hungry after such a wonderful dose of art, and the lovely walk through the park, we happened on Le Bois. Best hamburger of my life…David was more restrained and had a Caesar salad with smoked salmon. Lunch was in full swing, and the noise level climbed as more conversations launched around us. The service was great. Very warm and welcoming. Sated, we decided this was the day to explore Montmartre so we hopped on the metro and headed to the LaMarck station.

Montmartre–lovely and insane

While our hotel, which we were very satisfied with (Joyce Hotel, an “Astotel”), is at the bottom of Montmartre we had yet to explore the hill itself. Famed for its artistic history, it’s vineyard, some cool clubs, and the enormous Sacre Coeur at the tippy top, it is also a climb, with stairs, winding streets, more stairs, and even a funicular. I can imagine in the summer this place is almost unnavigable, but in the fall it was manageable and had a few nice surprises.

David’s research was great, again, as he knew there was a metro stop way up, perhaps even at the top of the hill, LaMarck-Caulaincourt. Well, it’s not quite that high, but high enough that instead of a few stairs or short escalator there is a continuously running elevator which goes from the metro platform up two stories to a street level exit. We emerged and were immediately confused about where we were and which way to go. Google maps are great…but sometimes getting your bearings takes some concentration. We wanted to wander enough to see the pretty spots, then check out Sacre Coeur, and perhaps wander all the way down to our hotel.

This neighborhood is by turns picturesque and insane. From Wikipedia: “Near the end of the 19th century and at the beginning of the 20th, during the Belle Époque, many artists lived, worked, or had studios in or around Montmartre, including Amedeo Modigliani, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Edgar Degas, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Suzanne Valadon, Maurice Utrillo, Piet Mondrian, Pablo Picasso, Camille Pissarro and Vincent van Gogh.” Today Renoir’s garden is part of the small museum which we would have visited but we just ran out of time.

We walked by the famous Agile Lapin, a small club–it was named at one time A Gill Lapin (Gill was the owner) but it devolved into its current name. La Maison Rose, the vineyard, and zig zagged up and up, finally reaching the touristic insanity of Place du Tertre (jammed with artists doing caricatures and more serious portraits) and around to Sacre Coeur. It was wild how block by block this small area changes completely.

After emerging from Sacre Coeur we wandered down, down, and within a few blocks it was tranquil again. I had been looking for a local artisan store to buy earrings for our beloved dog sitter, and suddenly we were in a village-like section where I found La Fabrique du 18, the perfect place to find-and I did-the perfect earrings for Roni. As I was completing the purchase I asked the proprietor if she knew of any place that sold authentic, all wool, made in France berets for children. We had been looking everywhere but all we found were made in China. Her response? “Around the corner.” Literally around the corner was a small shop, Laulhere, that sells ONLY made in France berets and knit caps, and the woman ushered us to the children’s section where we found one for our granddaughter in a bright dark pink. Adorable.

We continued to wander down, through the former red light district, now full of musical instrument stores and lots of young people, Pigalle. We passed countless tiny food options–like kiosks built into the buildings, some just takeaway, some with two or five seats–and found ourselves a half block from our hotel. A lovely afternoon. We celebrated by going to a restaurant at the end of our block, Le Comptoir Boutary, which was spectacular. I looked it up afterward to find it is consistently rated five stars and Michelin listed. A lucky find. We drank an entire bottle of wine with dinner and were glad it was only half a block to our hotel.

Boutary version of boeuf tartare was magical

Four days in Amsterdam

Posted on October 13, 2025 by Catherine

Day one: Arrival

Our flight was fine, but of course sleep was on/off and we arrived quite tired. I have always assumed everything works better in Europe, but we landed in a humid airport and a long walk to a 50-minute line at passport control. Lots of people and a high-pitched alarm somewhere that was extremely annoying. All for the literal 15 seconds of passport examination; leaving we approached the source of the alarm which was deafening as we ran through the exit doors. Outside the humidity climbed and poor David was sweating as we got into a waiting, and crowded, bus. Several nice people reshuffled so we could both sit down. I guess we looked pitiful.

It was a long ride into the city where we were bleary, hot, tired, and grumpy looking for our street. It turned out to be a very short walk and we got there without mistakes thank goodness. Nice hotel—The Catalonia Vondel. There are so many small hotels in this part of the city we had trouble deciding where to book but this was a reasonably good choice. Nice staff, an elevator, and lovely room which alas we had to change because the tub-shower walls were SO high it was literally treacherous to climb into and I kept picturing the trip ending with a rush to the ER. We moved the next day to a room with a teeny bathroom but a walk-in shower. Our last 24 hours have a few issues [no maid service, very difficult to adjust the water temperature in the shower] so I cannot recommend it unequivocally. We found the location, on the edge of the museum district, just about perfect.

The Stedelijk Museum of Contemporary Art

Stedeljik Museum was our first stop because we didn’t have to book an entry time. We have gradually come to really enjoy contemporary art and this place is pretty great all around, with one masterpiece that we returned to our last day to see again. It is a short [45 minute] film by Wael Shawky titled Drama 1882, telling the story of the rebellion against the British in Egypt, ultimately crushed by the British. It is an opera, with a hauntingly beautiful score, subtitled in English thank goodness. We both loved it…so much we went back Saturday, our last day and the last chit on our museum pass, to watch it again. It is so poignant, so sad, as the citizens are betrayed by European powers and their own people [“Traitor 1, Traitor 2, Traitor 3”]. The entire film is a masterpiece. I have scoured the net looking for where else it can be seen but after a month long installation in LA I found nothing. It premiered at the Venice Bienniale last year.

The Seafood Bar

Oooh, so yummy. I suppose I should have taken pictures but we were immersed in eating and drinking. Started with 6 oysters, easily equal to the best we have ever had. Then shared the Plateau, a small lettuce salad and huge serving of smoked and cold fish and shrimp. Delectable. Then we shared an order of mixed grill, a tower of fish and shellfish grilled perfectly. We ate every bite. It was a ten minute walk from the hotel and we practically staggered back and fell into bed.

Day 2: RijksMuseum and Indonesian Dinner

Well, this place is justifiably highly recommended in every guidebook…it is enormous, the building is fantastic, the layout fairly easy [though we had to ask at the information desk where the exit was!] and the audio tour essential. The first stop on the tour is the Great Hall, a beautifully adorned, immense space with massive murals that were part of the original construction. I mention this because not long after the museum opened styles changed and all the walls were painted over in white. The audio tour device allows you to “paint” the walls white to see this travesty of modernity over beauty. As the narration explains, years later it was decided the white walls were a mistake and fortunately all the original decorations and murals were intact under the paint which was meticulously scraped away. Phew.

Of course the Dutch masters are well represented and their works remain as appealing as ever. The Night Watch is being restored and behind a glass wall—but visible behind the wall and a reproduction is in the next room over so one can see the details. The tour had ample explanations of why these masterpieces of the 17th Century are as wondrous today as ever. Still lifes that entice you to reach in and take a piece of cheese; interiors (e.g. The Milkmaid) that are inviting and colorful; group portraits, such as The Nightwatch, that transport you to the scene. We loved it.

Afterward we wandered across the canal to a sweet little restaurant, Cafe Mankind, and at 12:30 we were the first people to sit down for lunch. I had learned from the massive sandwich I had had the day before that a half would suffice so we shared a smoked salmon on brown, thin, warm toast. Yummy. We returned to our room for a nap, then had a very good Indonesian dinner in honor of the colonial past and staggered back to bed.

Day 3: Haarlem Food Tour and Frans Hals Museum

We had booked a food tour in the city of Haarlem, a very short train ride, and ever worried about making our way to unknown locations on time we were an hour plus early for the tour so stopped in a nice coffee place with wifi. Thirty minutes in an American sounding guy sat next to us, a talker but an entertaining one. He was born in Indiana but had emigrated to Canada years ago and was now a Canadian citizen. Show off. We had a fun time mostly listening to him, getting in words as we could, as we explored traveling, being Canadian, his time on vacation in Haarlem (which I recommend highly…stay there and take day trips into Amsterdam) , and so forth. It passed the time and then we walked a few more blocks to the food tour.

This food tour was more a walking tour through old Haarlem and its history—our guide introduced the tour by going through all the Dutch-American connections, place names, etc.—a walking tour with great snacks! It turned out the group was the guide, the two of us, and 3 of his buddies. We had a blast. Old Haarlem is gorgeous, with lovely restored buildings, NO CHAIN STORES as a result of city government policy, plazas, canals, narrow alleys of original buildings, built for warehouses and businesses but now residential, filled with greenery (also government policy to keep things cooler—oh, huh, is global warming a thing?), hidden gardens, little green squares surrounded by small row houses built specifically for elderly women or the disabled…everything on a small scale with no more than 3 or 3 1/2 stories per building. I yearned to go shopping in these lovely local businesses but luckily no time. Snacks started with coffee and little savory bites, then a cheese store, an outside market where we ate smoked eel (delicious) and salted herring with onions and pickles, warm donuts filled with raisins, chocolate at a local chocolatier, local craft beer and bitterballen, everything delicious and just right. The tour, we suppose because it was a group of (delightful) friends and the two of us, was four hours! We left the group at another restaurant/bar built on the top of a parking structure with a great view of the city—we had timed tickets to the Frans Hals Museum. We shook hands and left for our next immersion in Dutch painting.

Frans Hals Museum

We liked it. All on one story, surprisingly large, but by the end I felt I had seen as many Hals and Hals-adjacent portraits I would ever want to see. There was a nice surprise at the end—several rooms of the life and work of Coba Ritsema, an amazing 20th century woman painter we had never before encountered. I was sad that the only book of her work on sale was entirely in Dutch. She is worth tracking down.

We headed back to Amsterdam thinking we were on a bus to the Haarlem train station but it turned out to be a bus to Amsterdam South Station. A hop onto a tram and we were back in our neighborhood. We redeemed our champagne coupons (a very generous pour) and wandered across a few canals to have a fast burger and fries supper. Easy and fun—we were worn out and looked forward to bedtime.

Last Day: Van Gogh Museum! And a return to Stedelijk for Drama 1882 redux

Oh boy. We had 9:30am tickets to the Van Gogh Museum so after a stop at our favorite bakery for rolls and coffee we hurried over. It was just opening and the line was long, but these major museums have maximum tickets/day and timed entries so while there were a lot of people it was manageable.

So many of his paintings are iconic and well known. I did my best to not take pictures of his work unless it was new to me—his chairs and a small country scene that kind of stunned me.

We like Van Gogh but here I realized how little I knew of him. (In April we had spent a few hours in Arles, his second-to-last home, so we knew a little bit about the events of his life.) This museum is fantastic, not to be missed. It is huge. We got the audio tour which was well done, and the first special exhibit was all about his time in Arles where he painted this particular family over and over and became very close with them. Van Gogh had decided to be a portrait painter and it was here, with these models, that he learned his approach. You have seen his pictures of the Roulin family if you have ever seen anything of his. He painted a version, e.g. of Postman Joseph Roulin, and then painted multiple versions; the same for his wife, a beautiful rendering of this beloved friend, over and over with subtle changes. He did the same with his self-portraits, changing the colors of the background and clothing. They are wonderful. That he was already struggling mentally adds a dimension to understanding his work in this era. He also wrote hundreds of letters to his brother Theo, fortunately and lovingly preserved and transcribed by Theo’s widow. He wrote with intensity and awe about art and what it meant to him and, he hoped, to his viewers. Many of these letters were quoted in the audio tour and wow.

I had not known that painters of this era in France, where he went to learn to paint, were excited to experiment with new science of color. Van Gogh and others used dabs of many colors to let the beholder’s eye blend into another color. In the museum they have extreme (via microscope) close ups of one of his paintings to show in detail how the shapes and colors of these dabs create depth and interest. Also little grains of sand in a painting he did at the seashore. So cool.

Dutch Lunch

We had lunch reservations at The Pantry, a tiny, famous, old restaurant a 10 minute walk from the museum. Fun and yummy.

Drama 1882 Redux

David and I were so enchanted by the movie the first time we visited Stedelijk we wanted to see it again. I wish it were widely available, e.g. on YouTube or venues in the US, but I have scoured the web without finding anything. It played at the LA Museum of Contemporary Art for a month this spring.

We had one more museum left on our pass and we chose to use it to return to Stedelijk. Friends, I cried. It is so moving, so beautiful, so very unusual. We were so happy we could see it a second time. A masterpiece. Wael Shawky. Remember that name.

Fancy Dinner with our beloved niece

We had reservations at Bak, a place that occupies a corner of the top floor of a warehouse on the river (not a canal!) renowned for its tasting menu. We had to deposit 40 euros per person to hold the reservation, and we hoped it was worth it.

It was. These kinds of meals are such fun, and perfect for a long evening of conversation. Lauren joined us and we talked and ate for hours. Service is attentive and unfussy, food delicious, and when they didn’t have the (least expensive) rose they substituted a spectacular French rose for the same price. After gin and tonics, all that food, all that wine, we were sated to say the least. To complete the luxury of the evening we shared Uber with Lauren (we of the always take the local transit habit) and returned to our room feeling as if we had enjoyed our narrow version of Amsterdam sufficiently.

As I write this we are on the fast train to Paris for another ten days of sightseeing, museums, and food.

Munich means great food

Posted on May 3, 2025 by Catherine

Our plan when traveling is to eat whatever is local (and good,of course) so we were determined to eat as much Bavarian food as our digestive systems could handle. Mission accomplished.

We were incredibly lucky to have a young friend living here who loves her city and gave us a list of favorite Bavarian restaurants and beer halls. She also steered us to several of her favorite museums…our visit wouldn’t have been nearly so fabulous or so easy without Janina’s help. It is easy to be overwhelmed in a city with so much to do.

I think we might also have been a bit wary of beer halls. In truth they are so different from any other food experience we could have chickened out entirely—and what a mistake that would have been. Sure, Bavarian food is heavy and rich, but we were only here for a week and one’s body can handle a week of anything, right?

We dug in right up to our last few hours.

First night we walk to Brunnwart and I get my first pretzel

We had had a long day–checking out of the boat, walking to the train station (painfully–my pack was too heavy), marveling at the sausage vending machine, 2 hour train to Munich, 45 minutes figuring out the metro, checking into hotel…so we really deserved an easy supper and thanks again to Janina we had one–Brunnwart, a lovely restaurant and garden a very pleasant 15 minute walk from the hotel.

The place was hopping, but we were happy to sit with our beer and wait a bit for the food, which was delicious of course. I had felt over-red-meated from the time on the boat, so was happy to order an oven fried fish with a cucumber-potato salad (and a pretzel!). I had no second chances for that salad, which is too bad. So yummy and tangy and fresh.

Beer and Bavarian food

Our first morning we took a Walkative guided tour and learned about the six Munich beers and what makes them so good. The definition of these beers is managed in the way any terroir food or drink is—e.g. you must use only local water and these days it is almost impossible to get a permit to dig a new well. We had earlier in the trip learned about Budweiser, a commercial brand which appropriated the name of an Austrian town’s brew because it wasn’t protected even though there is still that town and its beer is beloved…it is not American Budweiser. Munich has been smarter and as a result the Munich six beers are unchanged and, btw, delicious even for a non-afficionado like me. Volumes have been written on this subject so I will stop here before I make an egregious error. Know this: the local beer halls and gardens each feature a particular brand—Augustiner, Lowenbrau, etc.—and the helles, a refreshing lager style, is delicious. It is all draft in restaurants and beer gardens and halls. I rarely drink beer at home but had a half liter glass most of our dinners and does it ever go down easy. It makes Bavarian food even better.

Germany’s restaurant culture is completely different from France, where menus change often, are posted on chalkboards facing the sidewalk, and the midday meal is leisurely. And yet we managed to have long, delicious lunches almost every day, often in museum cafes, as well as big, rich suppers. Yes, we ate a lot! As usual, though, we justified our gluttony by walking most all of most days. Our last day, when we walked the English Garden, it came to 7+ miles. We needed the calories, no?

We ate so much and enjoyed it all. In this post I will tell you about a few highlights.

Lenbachhaus Museum Restaurant

It is delightful to be able to eat well and quickly at a museum cafe. We are deep in art! No time to wander off and find food!

This place was so good, and such a nice setting, we went back a second time between the Glyptotek and its sister across the square.

Creamy polenta, salty sausage, bitter kale with some sprouts to make it healthier.

They even had a museum ticket holder special dish, discounted several euros, which we had to have. Well nourished, we headed for more art.

We love beer halls and beer gardens!

Dear Janina and husband Gustav met us for dinner at our first beer garden experience and explained the ropes…self service for beer outside, table service for the meal. They took us to a favorite of theirs, an oasis in the university neighborhood, the name of which I failed to write down.

I also learned the women’s restrooms are labeled Damen. Not sure if I would have figured that out!

It was white asparagus season so that was what I had. David had his first of several pork knuckle meals and called it fine.

Well-educated on how these mysterious outfits work, we took ourselves to Augustiner Keller, an enormous beer garden where food and drink are self-serve, and a gigantic hall with table service. We chose the hall.

What a scene. The noise level of a full hall of drinkers and eaters is difficult to convey. Talking, laughing, people coming and going with scraping of chairs and rearranging of people at long, very long tables. I had planned to have duck while in Munich but hesitated when I saw the dinner was a half duck, with a potato dumpling (they tend to tennis ball size) and cooked purple cabbage. I was sure this was too much food for me. But I ordered it anyway along with a salad to share.

The salad was a mountain, and yes, a half duck is a lot. Ate it all!

Our last full day was a holiday, Easter Monday, and we planned to walk as much of the English Garden as we could manage, which turned out to be seven miles. No human can be expected to walk that much without sustenance and we wisely stopped at the beer garden at the Chinese Tower, which is definitely not at all Chinese and the day we were there housed a 3 man band playing traditional German music. Again, hard to describe how big these gardens are…and such fun as you take a tray and go from hut to hut loading up your meal. Sauerkraut, spaetzel, donuts cooked in lard, fried potatoes, french fries, chicken…and of course plenty of beer. I wish I was sitting there right now.

That is the “Chinese” Tower in the background.

Kaisergarten (much better eating than Kaiser Permanente)

When we returned to Oakland David dug into mail, messages, our budget, etc., and he was puzzled to see we had a charge from Kaiser Permanente (we’re not members) from a day we had been in Munich. Ah, mystery solved–Quicken had interpreted our charge at Kaisergarten as that other Kaiser.

The right one was a two metro stops from our hotel, and a few blocks’ walk through a beautiful neighborhood. I had made a reservation from caution–we’d been asked several times if we had reservations when we were just walking in and I was worried this place wouldn’t have room. Glad we did–it turned out to be quite small especially since it was too cold, even for Germans, to sit in the outside garden.

I was delighted to see beef tartare on the menu–I had had it twice in France and wanted to see how the German version differed. David ordered a dish called “meatballs” and was happy to find it was much more than that. Yummy. And we had kaiserschmarrn for dessert–an eggy pancake, torn into pieces, doused in (more) butter and some powdered sugar. We’d had some for breakfast that morning at Rischart Bakery (they’re all over the city but we went to the one on Marienplatz–highly recommended) and couldn’t hold back from trying another version.

Lovely, friendly restaurant right down to the retriever under the table next to us.

Unlike the French version, this was pure beef with condiments on top, surrounded by spicey sweet pickles

Our last Munich supper

Having traipsed, happily, all over the city seeking out delicious food we realized one major Munich dish had been neglected—the famed donner kebab sandwich. Well, to be honest I had a donner kebab sandwich from Al’s Superfood in Marienplatz, but David had not. And mine was sooo good I knew I wanted another.

Chicken, vegetables, four different sauces, crispy bun, roasted potatoes…

Lucky for us a great looking donner kebab place was a ten minute walk away.

We were definitely on the early side and as the only customers we were able to chat with the young Turkish woman working the counter. She was excited to guide us through the ordering process. Two sandwiches and an order of fries “Turkish street style.” I was delighted to see they had salty yogurt drinks, and David of course had a beer. Just yummy!

By the time we finished the place was hopping, super chill with obvious regulars—large young men talking sports. If this place was in our neighborhood we would be regulars, too. No, we didn’t figure out why “the most expensive kebabs in Germany” was the primary selling point–and they weren’t.

Bratislava

Posted on April 12, 2025 by Catherine

We arrived in this small (450,000) capital city on a cloudy morning with the same considerable windchill which ebbed and flowed throughout the day.

The walking tour was one of the best ever because our guide had all the requisite traits: she knew the city and its history, she was by turns serious and respectful and funny, and she gave me a recommendation for a restaurant that served a superb version of a Slovakian specialty, halusky. More on that later.

Because our guide, Jana, had lived half her life under Soviet rule she could share many insights and family stories about those dark times and about how life had changed since the velvet revolution. Jana plus the exceedingly picturesque old city (barely a city!) made for a great morning.

Jana introduced us to Bratislava by stating the two unequivocal advantages to living in her town. One, no traffic. It was rush hour and we were at a major intersection with barely a lane full of cars. Two, it is located at the intersection of three countries—Hungary, Austria, and Slovakia.

Soviet times

Standing just a few yards from the boat Jana pointed across the Danube at a woods with a large hill behind on which we could see a transmitter tower. The tower was in Austria, and the woods at the edge of the river were not at all dense. Jana explained that the soviet government had mowed down the trees and shrubbery and placed several rows of barbed wire and high voltage lines to prevent escapes. (According to wikipedia 400 Bratislavan citizens were killed trying to escape during the years Soviet Russia ruled Slovakia.). But the Austrian tower transmitted television, though often jammed, and Jana asked us what we thought her grandmother’s favorite tv series was. Dallas! Her grandmother was really pissed when jamming made her miss an episode.

Upper left, the Neolog memorial; lower right, the drop of blood in that little hole in the gold decoration

The Neolog Synagogue that survived both world wars was torn down by the Soviets in 1969 to make way for a road, which now runs so close to the beautiful St. Martin’s Cathedral that it is now suffering damage from traffic vibration. There are reminders of the lost synagogue around the central historic district including a memorial on the site and information placards posted nearby.

St. Martin’s Cathedral alongside the Neolog Synagogue before the Soviets destroyed the synagogue.

St. Martin’s Cathedral has a soaring interior with very little interior decoration where frescoes were destroyed in the several fires that were started by lightening strikes. These interior fires started at the back of the sanctuary and were extinguished before reaching the altar, which remains filled with frescoes and elaborate carved seats, each with a symbolic animal (creature?) representing a sin or virtue.

On one side wall there’s a curious Habsburg relic, a recent gift of descendants of the Habsburg emperor who abdicated in 1918. The gift is gold, like a decorative frieze, and sits inside a large, carved wooden something-or-other. The curious part is in the center, a small round hole that holds a drop of the last emperor’s blood.

Walking through the renaissance

The streets of old Bratislava are narrow and treacherous with cobblestones that are themselves awfully uneven. The old town is so small you are through it in minutes. Our guide explained one street has been used over and over as a movie set because all of the buildings are owned by the Catholic church and hence there are no commercial signs. She told us a funny story. She was leading a tour and as they came around the corner onto this particular street a gate opened and out walked two tall men in full Nazi uniforms. Jana and her group stopped and gaped. “It was surreal,” Jana said. I’ll bet!

Many buildings date from renaissance and guide pointed out the distinguishing feature: enclosed balconies facing the street with windows on front and the very narrow sides. The side windows were a security feature…one could see from inside if a bad guy was sneaking along the wall toward the door. Only bad guys would approach by scooting along the wall instead of approaching directly from the front.

On the left, a renaissance building with side windows in covered balcony

Live and learn.

Bratislavan treat

Our wonderful guide Jana had stopped outside a restaurant that had photos of their traditional dishes to point out that we shouldn’t leave without eating the most delicious of local foods, halusky. Dumplings (along the lines of spaetzel) in sheep’s cheese with bacon on top. At the end of the tour I asked her to recommend a restaurant where we could find a good version and she have us a name and pointed it out.

One of my problems on the cruise is lunch is at 12:00 and dinner not until 7:00. Consequently I am hungry in the afternoon and the snacks on board are cookies, fruit, one day donuts…all sweet. So this day i counted on walking back into town to try halusky. We braved the windy cold and spatter of rain. Wow. So delicious. We also ordered potato pancakes which were unlike anything I have eaten. Thin like crepes, buttery, with a very faint sweetness. It looked like a lot of food but we ate every last bit.

Halusky and potato pancakes, and the view from inside the restaurant.

We left this beautiful peaceful town thinking it would indeed be a nice place to live!

A backyard with church spire in the distance.

Budapest

Posted on April 10, 2025 by Catherine

Budapest is a beautiful city. Like Prague, around virtually every corner is another deco or nouveau building, a small green park, or a monument with an unrecognizable, to Americans, statue on top.

It is also infected with plenty of American shops, pizza restaurants, kebab shops. I suppose we should no longer be bummed by Starbucks and McDonalds and Burger King, right? And yet…

We arrived several days before our Danube cruise started, fresh out of France and perhaps a bit hard to please on the food front as a result. Our visit was also handicapped by incredibly cold and windy weather that arrived our first morning. Nonetheless we layered up and headed out and about.

Public transportation

Line 1, the yellow line, oldest in Budapest

The metro is great, with the added attraction of the oldest line (yellow) with white and brown original tiled stations, quite small, and low ceilings. According to our guide it was the 3rd major underground system in the world after London and Istanbul. It is not many steps below ground and supposedly because it is not in a tunnel it is technically not a subway. The cars have leather straps (!), low ceilings, and the most terrifying door closings I have experienced. I tried to capture them on video but it does not do them justice. Ding, ding, ding and the doors close, slamming violently the last few inches. I bet they would take a limb off, easy.

Between the metro, the bus system, and electric streetcars you can get anywhere and quickly.

Advice: From the airport skip the cab line and head right for the express bus 100E, which barrels into Pest and drops you right in the center.

As we lined up for that bus, pretty tired from walking at least ten miles across the Munich airport (very slight exaggeration), we were taken aback by a twenty-something man who was almost aggressively asking us a question in incomprehensible English, over and over. We stepped back, alarmed, as another young man at the door to the bus asked if we were over 65. Uh, yes? No charge for public transportation! The insistent young man who had been pressing us a moment before looked down, saw he didn’t have his ID badge around his neck and immediately fumbled to get it out of his jacket pocket. He had been asking us “How old are you?” Poor guy.

Google maps were reliable for walking and taking public transportation, with few of the dead spots in many other old cities. So in spite of the windy cold we got around easily.

Disappointing

We love museums, primarily art and history. We found Budapest museums underwhelming. The fine arts museum, which is on Heroes Square (which is magnificent) is only mediocre and the building itself terribly confusing. It seemed in each era the examples on display were not the most impressive. Admittedly we have been to a lot of art museums but I do not think we’re jaded, we just had no wow moments, no revelations. But it is very well regarded and maybe we weren’t in the mood.

In retrospect we wish we had gone to the ethnography museum instead. First of all the building is amazing from the outside (see photos below) and lots of people were walking up to the top. For us it was way too cold and windy to try. A missed opportunity. And second, given the bits of Hungarian history we picked up a few days later at the national museum, an ethnographic history would have been fascinating. Quick, which language is Hungarian most closely related to? Yup, both the Finns and the Magyars came out of Siberia.

Our last museum experience worth mentioning was the National Museum, all about Hungarian history. Best part by far is on the second floor, 1703-1990. Lizt’s piano, which had been Beethoven’s! And the fascinating era from World War I through the velvet revolution. Well laid out, sufficient English signage, moving and just interesting.

Beethoven’s, subsequently Lizt’s piano!!

When we got there, tired as all get out, we decided to take the elevator up and walk down. We asked where it was at the entrance and were told to see a particular woman who motioned for us to sit down. We did. After perhaps ten minutes we didn’t begrudge given how tired we were, she motioned for us to follow as she led us through locked doors, a warren of hallways, finally getting into a freight elevator to the third floor where we were escorted back out to a public area. We said thank you and went on our way.

Our Hotel

We stayed at the Intercontinental Hotel, right on the river, and we thrilled to the view both day and night. Our room was big and dead quiet, bed comfy, and we almost caught up on our sleep.

Food

We had paprikash and goulash several times. Delicious. I think perhaps the cucumber salad that came with veal paprikash our last night was a highlight, as was the “onion” soup David ordered. It was the bright dark green of very fresh spinach, maybe, thinner textured than a cream soup, and wow what a flavor. The English translation in the menu was “Ramson’s onion soup.” Oh! Ramps, a beloved spring wild onion found in eastern US. it was a revelatory dish. This great meal was at Elso Pesti Reteshaz, also known as Strudel House. And yes, great strudel both savory and sweet.

David and I raise the average age in Simon’s

A funny and yummy meal experience at the other end of the spectrum is Simon’s Burger. It is a love letter to American smash burgers and that cuts both ways, right? But we were tired of finding places to eat, we were hungry, and it was close by. Everything is in English, though the clientele is young and Hungarian. We raised the average age by a decade and the place was packed. We had medium hopes that were way too low. The burgers and fries were terrific, perfectly cooked and hot, and the ambiance so entertaining, we were very happy we went.

The concierge sent us to A La Maison, a ten minute walk, for breakfast because it was open at 8 unlike many of the coffee houses. Huge menu, delicious variations of eggs benedict, a few oddities to Americans like Hungarian French toast (savory, served with grated cheese on the side), pretty darned good coffee and fresh orange juice. Heaven for me.

Jewery

The Jewish quarter is known as the party district due to lots of “ruin bars” and a funky feel. It also has a lot of Jews and several large synagogues. One of these also has the Jewish Heritage Museum (somewhat boring) and a devastating photo exhibit about the demise of Budapests’s formerly large Jewish population at the very end of 1944, and the cemetery of mostly unidentified victims buried in perhaps a dozen mass graves ringed with the gravestones of the small number who were identified. Also a courtyard dedicated to Raoul Wallenberg and other gentile heroes who saved Jews from the Nazis. Worth seeing and facing but personally I couldn’t manage all of it and ended up leaving to cry in the synagogue.

Surprisingly interesting for me is the Robert Capa museum of his photography and his life. What a life. He was a very famous war photographer starting in the Spanish civil war through both world wars. He took a break of a few years, managing to squeeze in an affair with Ingmar Bergman and friendships with Steinbeck and other men of letters, then returned to the French Indochina war where he died in 1954 when he stepped on a land mine. It’s a grueling experience to see his work and read about his life and worth every minute. The Capa museum is on the edge of the Jewish Quarter, so if you are visiting I advise you to pace yourself.

Miscellany

The enormous, somewhat touristy Central Market is worth a trip if only to buy eleventy-seven kinds of paprika. I also discovered the butchers are happy to sell you 4 little slices of salami to scarf down on the spot.

Hungarian specialty chocolatiers are amazing!

As you bus from center city outward the beautiful buildings gradually step down from maybe 7 stories to 5 to 4 to 2. All of the nouveau/deco eras, all gorgeous.

If you manage to learn even 3 words of Hungarian, especially thank you, you will always get a smile.

Most people who mention the government are scornful of Orban and sadly baffled by you-know-who. Oddly coincidental Netanyahu was landing for a visit as we landed Saturday.

The photo below is a soviet era statue, very very large on the hill in Buda. After the velvet revolution it was draped in a white sheet for three days…our guide said it looked ghostly. Then the sheet was removed and it was renamed Lady of Liberty. Cool, huh?

End of our time in Nice

Posted on April 9, 2025 by Catherine

We had just a day or two left in Nice and we were happy to take my aunt’s suggestion to see the Ephrussi-Rothschild villa and gardens in Villefranche-Sûr-Mer. Hurrah, again, for a fully functioning public transportation system.

I would compare the ride, which was close to an hour, to the delightful bus ride we took through Kyoto our last day in town in 2024. So interesting, so lovely, the time flew by. The bus dropped us at the entrance to the villa grounds and we walked up the hill in the morning sun, bought our tickets and walked through the very early spring gardens…not a lot was blooming but the views, the great weather, and the ever changing garden designs were delightful. After an hour or so I was, of course, hungry and we walked through the villa itself to the restaurant. In a minute we were seated in the soaring, elegant room, only a few tables occupied. The host, a handsome young man, was from Portugal and we had an extended conversation when he asked where we were from, where we had traveled, and when we mentioned we loved Mexico he said he‘d been there because his dad married a woman from there and they now lived in Cancun. We turned to the menu and soon were drinking a half bottle of rose and devouring our customary French lunch. We’re getting used to this high class life.

The villa itself is rather small with human-sized rooms, though the art is a bit one-note. Nothing to knock our socks off but the film about the doyenne of the villa and grounds was pretty interesting (we’d have liked more details on her apparently strange marriage) and it’s always fun to watch old black and white films about rich and famous strangers.

We walked down to the bus stop and this time we knew how gorgeous the views were and could get a few photos. I post them for you to enjoy and daydream over.

Wrapping up our time in France

We didn’t feel we had fully enjoyed everything in Vielle Ville so determined to spend the morning there and the afternoon at the Archeological Museum next to the Matisee Museum. We really love Roman stuff.

The old city is just a few tram stops away from my aunt’s and thus we arrived fairly early in the morning. We hadn’t made it down to the actual seashore the other day. This time we got off at the Opera stop and walked directly there. Well, almost directly, because I had a mission to have a few specialties of Nice that somehow hadn’t yet touched my lips—socca, a chickpea savory pancake, and pan bagnat, basically a Niçoise salad in bread—a truly appealing sandwich, no? Within a few blocks we passed a boulangerie and I ducked in to see wonderful examples in round, thick buns. We figured we would see them again so walked on, but within a few blocks David indulged my sudden need to turn back and buy two. We continued to the “beach,” a rocky shore not at all crowded at the early hour and definitely off-season, and enjoyed the sound of the surf on the rocks and the few bikini’d women, a few dogs, a few families—a pleasant scene.

We had wanted to see a particular cathedral that we didn’t find our previous time in the old city. David, whose phone has the eSIM and hence manages a lot of out maps and lists (I can get on line when we are together and he opens his hot spot) checked his saved map and we left the beach to find the cathedral. As we walked along I spied an intriguing store and, calling out to David I would need a minute, went in without waiting for his acknowledgment. After a nice conversation with the woman and making a purchase I went back out…no David. I figured he had continued on to the cathedral so I opened my phone to looks at the saved map. Well, it had a picture of where the cathedral was, and lots of streets, but not a single street name. Unconcerned I kept walking. No cathedral, no David—but I did see Bistro Antoine where we had eaten a few days prior. I went in, found our waiter, and showed him my phone. Where was this cathedral, please?

Waiter: “Hmmm. A droit, en suite a droit…je pense…” (to the right, then right again, I think).

I follow his vague directions but see no cathedral and no spouse. But I brighten up when three gendarmes walk toward me.

Me: “Pardon, ou est ce cathedrale (I show the picture on my phone) parce que j’ai perdu mon marie!” (Pardon, where is this cathedral because I have lost my husband.)

Gendarme, looking at his colleagues: “Hmmm.”

He takes out his phone, punches away, looks vaguely around, points in a direction up the street, then “Voila!” The cathedral was a half block away. And there was David, too. We laughed, went into the cathedral, and while it was beautiful there were an unusually large number of gruesome paintings featuring martyred saints and the like. We spent five or ten minutes but left as I announced how hungry I was getting.

I had scored our pan bagnats but what about the socca? Happily on our way out of Vielle Ville we spied a counter which sold lots of Nice delicacies including socca. As the young woman packed my order “pour apporter” I noticed a big tray of petits farcis…little stuffed tomatoes, onions, and zucchini. I added them to our picnic.

My rudimentary French again came to our rescue when we couldn’t find the bus stop. Two cordial women in turn steered us right to the correct spot.

The park was perfect, pan bagnat and socca and petits farci were scrumptious, and we loved the small museum filled with Roman artifacts, complete with a meadow out back filled with Roman ruins.

By the time we got back to my aunt’s apartment we didn’t want to go anywhere or see anything. We rustled up a supper of scrambled eggs with our fellow houseguests, Ronnie and Arthene, and collapsed into bed.

**We ate our picnic with a Roman arena in the background!**

i cannot end this last post from France without addressing the sad fracture in our relationship with the Europe that survived World War II largely due to our help. Many Americans died. Many more Europeans died, lost family, friends, communities, almost everything. They have not forgotten—no, they have not let themselves forget—what happened and what we did, what we lost, what we sacrificed.

**One of many subtle memorials to the people who died in WW II.**

You cannot go too far in many places in France without seeing a memorial or a simple plaque like this one. Here fell Jean Badino, a human being, on August 28, 1944, for the liberation of France. Do not forget him. Do not forget that a war was fought here, right here, for our country.

We get a car and explore the environs

Posted on April 1, 2025 by Catherine

Late Thursday afternoon we took the bus to the TGV station to fetch our rental car. I had booked a EuropCar because none of the US companies had an option for English on the French site, nor did they allow a return to a different city. Our plan was to rent in Avignon, tour around outside the city, then return the car in Nice. EuropCar was perfect, had lower rates, and the young man who handled the rental was a pleasure.

It was well after 3 so we drove directly to Pont du Gard. This is one mammoth aqueduct, built in the first century CE and in use until the fourth century. If you want to be amazed by this engineering feat go to Wikipedia or watch a film on YouTube. It ran for 31 miles, weaving around hills and adjusting the slope over the course of the run as needed. At the last section the slope was incredibly shallow. The concept and execution, not to mention the guts, to embark on such a crazy project is unimaginable. It turned out we were very lucky to go in late afternoon when the shadow of the mammoth structure was visible on the downstream river. We walked across and back, trying to imagine the now gone third set of arches which were taken down in order to use the stone for buildings nearby.

Uzes and Nimes

Saturday we drove to Uzes and Nikes. Uzes is a very small, and sadly getting smaller (now around 8500) town whose market day we wanted to enjoy, so that was our first stop. Less than 45 minutes away and so friendly, we had a lot of fun. First on the list was coffee and a croissant and walking down the main street only 10 yards or so brought us to Le Vieux Cafe. It was chilly and windy, yet there were 10 or so customers sitting outside. Let me take a moment to say that the French sit outside to drink and eat in weather that is way, way too cold for us Americans, and there’s not a gas heater anywhere. In we went and within a few minutes a man swings by, “Bonjour madame, bonjour monsieur, voulez vous un boisson” and 60 seconds later we had our café crème and croissants. Delicious.

We took the first side street and were enveloped by the market. The wind was fierce (gusts up to 48mph) and it felt quite cold but the crowd and the bustle of the weekly market kept us moving and somewhat warm. That wind. Every now and then an umbrella fell over, branches were falling, and the trees in bloom were shedding seeds that were everywhere on everything. And it was fun. We decided to put together enough food for an evening meal because I insisted every day that we take advantage of the custom of a big lunch—and the lunch specials that every restaurant offers and we planned to do a lot that day—I could already imagine not wanting to budge once we got back to the hotel (I was right about that). And, I confess, it is just fun to buy things at an outdoor market where everyone is in a market mood, I have a lot of questions I can ask in my rudimentary French, and who can resist the cheeses, the breads, the olives…

Le Vieux Cafe, so old and filled with stuff that appears to have been there for a few generations.

We decided to head to Nimes and assume we’d get there within normal lunch hours. We’d walked pretty much the entire town of Uzes anyway. Off we set, excited to see more Roman ruins—an arena, a temple, and a tower—and experience a different town. Well, wow, very different. We were surprised that Nimes was so big, much bigger than Avignon, at least the part within the city walls that we had gotten to know, and it made Uzes seem like a closet. We drove through this city, with wide streets and confusing directions, searching for a place to park that would be near at least one of the sites. Happily there is an underground parking garage adjacent to the arena/coliseum. We came up to the very big plaza to see the wind whipping water from a large fountain across the plaza in a cloud. We let the wind push us to the Office de Tourisme where we confirmed that the three things we wanted to see were within walking distance. “Mais, oui.” Off we set, but first, lunch.

The plaza the tourist office woman sent us to is clearly a tourist place—a small square ringed with restaurants, lots of outdoor seating, not too crowded but many people eating and talking. We were a bit dismayed, having avoided these settings as much as possible but too hungry to venture further. We entered one that advertised a gratin brandade (baked salt cod, usually with potatoes). We’d been so lucky regarding restaurants and feared our streak would end. Nope. It was still very windy so we went inside, and small tables close together were pretty packed. We sat and immediately the great table service we have found everywhere was here too. I made a comment to the woman at the next table in French—it was perhaps two feet from us—and she asked if I spoke English. The couple was traveling in their camper from Stuttgart on to Italy and we had a typical friendly conversation. David ordered what her husband was having (linguine with a baked Camembert that he stirred into the pasta, with a side of a small charcuterie) and I got the gratin brandade. Everything was delicious.

The brandade. So good. Potatoes covered with bubbling eggy salt cod.

The arena here is used for events. They are repairing the clay surface.

Back we drove to Avignon, very very glad we had bought a supper at the market. We dragged ourselves to the room, scarfed down the baguette, cheese, and olives, and packed. We left Avignon the next morning and drove to Arles on our way to Nice.

We arrive and explore Avignon

Posted on March 28, 2025 by Catherine

This medieval city, with its circling wall, lovely walking streets, and hospitable people grabbed us from the first morning as we set out for coffee. We had arrived late Tuesday after about 24 hours of travel, easily settled into Hotel Cloitre Saint Louis, and after a quick, delicious, albeit Italian, dinner we fell into the very comfy bed and slept 10 hours. Wednesday we quickly found a sweet little coffee and pastry place, Le Saint Chocolat, and enjoyed our breakfast of croissants and coffee so much we came back every morning this week.

Let‘s be clear, the food here is spectacular. It can’t be that a glass of champagne (for me) and a beer (for David) makes that much of a difference! Our first lunch, at unsung Petit Grand, was delectable. Our supper of soup and tartines (open faced sandwiches) perfect and in a little place right out of a French movie. The lunch in Avignon Villeneuve (across the Rhône), where we sat outside in the little square and talked travel and politics with the folks sitting at the next table—the man so happy to have a chance to speak English and sigh about the turn of events in the US (“This sure isn’t the America of 1945 that saved us from the Nazis, is it?”), and the food scrumptious. Lunch today might have topped them all, but that might also be that for me speaking French is beginning to flow and it made the food—the creamiest of carrot soups and baked goat cheese with honey for David, pate en croute and beef tartare for me—even better. Yeah, great eating that is frankly superior to typical American food in a tourist-y city, ooh la la is all I can say and yes, they say that here.

Yesterday we stopped in the Office de Tourisme to ask about getting a bus to Villeneuve-Lez-Avignon, the “new town” across the Rhône, and the very cordial young woman told us to get off at the Office de Tourisme there and noted that it was market day. We did, and there was the market, right across from the bus stop. Now, we consider the Grand Lake farmers market in Oakland to be pretty darned good, but this one put it to shame. Just watching the French talk, laugh, buy (and everyone seems to reuse containers—glass jars handed over to be filled with olives, bags to be filled with bread, little containers to be filled with humus), and laugh and talk some more was enough entertainment. Drooling over the produce—and the seeming endless array of olives, too—was fun and it made us hungry for lunch. There was even a stand that squeezed fresh juice on the spot.

Though I could have gone straight to a restaurant David was more rational and suggested we head to the castle that we could see from the market.

This small town overflows with history and we marched through a lot of it in the one day we had. The gradual climb to the castle was lovely.

When we got there we thought about whether to buy a ticket but went to the billeteria to see what the deal was. We were quickly convinced to buy 2 twenty euro multi-site tickets and started with the “abbey” and its gardens. Alas, the website for this amazing place is really awful and the information about the restoration in the early twentieth century is buried. The fascinating parts to us are the purchase by a lovely painter, Gustave Fayet, a woman for whom he bought the abbey, Elsa Koenerle, who made it her lifelong work to restore the abbey and especially the gardens with her lifelong “close friend” who lived with them, Genia Lioubow. The gardens are gorgeous, even in their very early spring state. We wandered for at least an hour before walking back down to the square for lunch.

The abbey ground floor where they all lived is now a gallery of Fayet’s painting and drawings. They are lovely. I include here only one, a portrait of his wife and baby.

The next post will cover a few of the museums in Avignon and Villeneuve-Lez-Avignon. After several long days I am heading to bed.

Odds and Ends: Peaceful Temples, Bakeries, Philosophers Path, Bar Food, Handmade Paper

Posted on April 29, 2024 by Catherine

Mysterious Snack

What do you suppose this is, and why? A Twinkie with a banana inside? There were ads for them all over the train stations.

Horyu-ji

David found two temples, Horyu-ji near Nara and Kozan-ji in Kyoto, that were off the beaten path. I am so glad he did.

We had planned on visiting Nara, a city about an hour by train from Kyoto, though we had been there on our first trip when it was excruciatingly hot and humid. At the very least we wanted to find the okonomiyaki place for lunch, and perhaps visit a few sites we had missed on that hot day. First, though, David suggested we change trains in Nara and visit an enormous temple complex where the oldest wooden buildings in the world are located.

Here we had another of those strange Google map snafus. It told us to change to a different train line and go a few stops to this little town. Well, the walking directions to the other train station were ridiculously confusing and kept changing (the Google map starts spinning and rerouting you over and over until you have no idea where you are) so we stopped at the tourist information office across from the JR (primary) station…where the very nice woman explained that it made more sense to return to the JR station, get on another JR train and take it to the temple town. Fortunately for David’s mental health we were on a JR pass, so exiting and returning to the same station cost us nothing. And why Google suggested this strange transfer–and then refused to tell us how to do it–was a mystery.

So we did as the nice woman suggested and in a few short stops were getting off the train and looking for the city bus stop. Which was, of course, right where it should be and a few minutes later we were walking up to the temple complex.

It was enormous. You buy a three-part ticket and as you move through the complex each ticket part is collected. Incredibly peaceful and seemed to go on forever, including a relatively new museum built by the government (of course–we couldn’t build such train stations and museums if we had a lifetime, alas) to house some extremely important, old, and rare statues and artworks. After several hours we returned to the bus stop, walking down a shady pedestrian boulevard, and were back in Nara in a flash. And tired out–ate our okonomiyaki (see post about noodles) and returned to Kyoto on the fast, clean, peaceful JR train.

Kozan-ji

We had eaten in, shopped, wandered, and explored Kyoto for a week and were unsure how to spend our last day in the city before heading to Kanazawa. Kozan-ji temple was an hour on a city bus to the outskirts, it appeared, of the city. Now, taking an hour long bus ride sounds boring and maybe even miserable, but in Kyoto it was quite nice. Through the middle of the city, past downtown, climbing through green neighborhoods, and suddenly we were in mountains. We got off the bus and felt like we were back in California–big trees, a rushing river. A very short walk back a-ways and up a stone path took us into the Koran-ji temple grounds.

It’s difficult to describe how quiet and picturesque it is. A few lingering cherry blossoms added bits of white to the views. The stonework, dead quiet gardens, and very small temples were the opposite of Horyu-ji–no school groups, no massive buildings, no wide plazas. We spent an hour or so taking it all in, walked down the stone path and across the road, and within ten minutes were back on a bus to Kyoto proper.

Kyoto Bakeries

I love a great croissant, especially in Portugal. Or Kyoto. I love good, strong, fresh coffee. Together? The perfect vacation breakfast.

We had visited Ogawa Coffee, in the Kyoto Station underground, many times but when we went looking for it our first morning in town we couldn’t find it. Happily we did find an even better option and went every morning of the week we were in town–Grandir Kyoto Porta Store, marked with a big sign reading “Boulangerie Patisserie.” (A second option, which was en route to the Kyoto Handicraft Center, we also loved–Le Bac a Sable. Amazing cafe au lait and, again, French pastry to die for.)

Great things about Grandir: the cool cash collection system (drop coins onto a conveyer belt thingy and watch them sort and tally), the array of pastry options (thank you again Google translate for the ability to read what the more mysterious items were) and the delicious coffee (free refills) that you get from the machine next to the cashier. Beans are ground to order, coffee is among the best I’ve ever had, and the extremely rich cream…well, it’s all yummy. Take, you know, that one Porta (underground shops) staircase down, it’s right there. Free wifi, too.

Philosphers Path

This well-known walk in Kyoto, even when lots of tourists are in the area, is well worth the short bus ride to its beginning. During cherry blossom/sakura season it’s so much more and even though we had walked it on a prior visit we had to return. There’s not much more to say. Don’t miss it if you are in town.

My Artist Sister’s Request

When asked what she wanted as a gift from Japan my ridiculously talented artist sister had one desire–handmade paper. Okay! I asked cousin Harumi for her recommendation Kyoto and she said she did have a favorite place but wasn’t able to find it on a previous visit. Google maps to the rescue–there it was, Kajimi Kakimoto, not a long walk from downtown.

I had no clue what I was looking for and had neglected to ask my sister what her intentions were for the paper. Fortunately the young man working there was so helpful; unfortunately the inventory is enormous. But after his guidance I was able to select several kinds, and two big colored sheets that had to go into a tube, and we left satisfied. That tube was a source of anxiety the rest of the trip because it was “too long” for carry-on and Zipair is extremely fussy about dimensions and weights of checked and carry-on luggage. Happily, when we checked in for our return, after several conferences and a second visit, by the young man at check in, to the place where travelers can measure bags, and a quick consultation with a supervisor, it was judged ‘okay.’

A fun discovery after our purchase was that according to the map even though we were quite a way north of the train station it was a straight shot down the same narrow street all the way to our hotel. As we got within a few blocks of the Dormy Inn David and I looked at each other. Wait a minute–isn’t that the Family Mart (konbini) we went to when we were looking for that terrific izakaya (bar with food) on our last visit? When we couldn’t find the bar anywhere and finally snuck down a dark hallway off a parking space, tentatively slid open the shoji screen, and discovered a hopping bar scene? Yes, it was! Yup, we had to go back!

Bar Food

Kurakura, a place I had found randomly on Trip Advisor last time we were in Kyoto, was and is a fantastic izakaya a 5 minute walk from our hotel. We couldn’t have been happier we found it again–I had no record of the name and only a vague memory of how we found it.

In we went, to be asked if we had a reservation. Reservation? Uh, no. Five minutes later we were seated at the bar–where we wanted to be. The place was hopping for a midweek night. We ordered a large sake and ran down the familiar menu and ordered five or six dishes. Sake was a local Kyoto brand, cold and dry. Food was mostly fried and delicious. We made short work of all of it and left happy and full.