Musee D’Orsay, Musee d’Art Moderne, Georges de La Tour

Posted on October 28, 2025 by Catherine

The Louvre

While we were here the shocking theft occurred and, though we had left the Louvre in the “maybe” column, this cinched things—the museum closed, and the morning of the theft our bus was rerouted to avoid the vicinity. Fortunately we had already selected several other museums to enjoy, and enjoy we did.

Musee d’Orsay

Musee d’Orsay…a train station transformed into a gorgeous, albeit confusing, temple to art—painting, sculpture, art nouveau furniture, and more. The building itself is massive, with some galleries by theme (French Impressionism) and some by donating collector. So you think you have absorbed all you can of French Impressionist painting…until you wander into another part of the building where a private collector’s donation includes even more. A great experience, utterly exhausting.

On the top floor are several lovely views of Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.

I snapped the smallest selection of stunning paintings, including this beautiful portrait by Singer Sargeant (the special exhibit and it was a stunner), two very different Renoirs, and one Van Gogh from his final few months of production. Re the Van Gogh, you can almost feel the manic energy he must have been feeling as he painted faster and faster.

Portrait by Sargeant of Violet Paget, who went by pseudonym Vernon Lee.

Musee Jacquemart-Andre

This stop was a recommendation of a friend and it was different and kind of amazing. A wealthy man, in some decline in health, married a young friend of the family arranged by them so he would be cared for, and they built and filled an enormous, enormous mansion with art. Paintings, sculpture, frescoes—they traveled Europe buying things and when they died willed it to the city. The house and its hodgepodge collection is entertaining, but the real gem was the special exhibit—absolutely magical paintings by Georges de La Tour, whose work was completely forgotten after his death in 1692. He was not rediscovered until 1919, by an art historian who went on to curate Hitler’s (stolen) artwork. They had maybe 30 of his works, some quite large, and they cast a spell in the way he used candlelight to illuminate a scene. He also painted scenes of common people when this wasn’t popular, in addition to his (mostly) religious scenes. It was great, albeit the exhibit was very crowded.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georges_de_La_Tour

Musee d’Art Moderne

Great, great, great! We saw lots of things we liked by artists we had never heard of. Like the d’Orsay, there are exhibits by era and also by private collector/donor. The first big room—a huge room-wrapping mural about the scientists who contributed to the development of electricity—is a stunner.

**If I recall correctly this is Interdit est Interdit…forbidding things is forbidden.**

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.

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?

Nice, Very Nice

Posted on April 2, 2025 by Catherine

Sorry about the title, couldn’t resist.

We arrived in Nice by car and I missed the exit so we ended up driving a bit more through the city up in the fancy hills. So very pretty—everything looks like it came right out of a movie in the 1960s. Large buildings with wrought iron balconies that would be complete with a young beautiful blond woman in a flowing scarf leaning over and calling “Jacques, I’ll be right down” as she scoops up her miniature poodle and ducks inside.

We didn’t see any blonds with poodles but we have enjoyed the lovely scenery, fantastic food, and the mix of old and new. It is by far the largest city of our trip so far and though I’m still going to hold out for a little apartment in Villeneuve, this place ain’t at all bad. Best of all, it has a museum devoted to Henri Matisse, my favorite painter, which I sopped up. Fortunately for David he is also a fan so he also enjoyed it and tolerates my over-the-top delight.

**If he’d stuck with Impressionism he would have been grand!**

The museum is here because Matisse and his family donated many many drawings (so many of those that they are rotated into public view), paintings, sculpture, photographs, lithographs, paper cutouts. To watch his progression as an artist from his very early self portrait drawings to his impressionist paintings to his exploration of techniques to transform the flat canvas to a multi-dimensional experience to his abstract cutouts…wow. I wonder if I could convince David to go back before we leave Saturday morning.

We left fully satisfied and walked down the hill to the Chagall Musee. En route I of course got hungry for lunch and we ducked into the only restaurant we passed and had an overwhelming fun lunch. I asked for the “Hamburger au poulet frite”, otherwise known as a fried chicken sandwich, which came with the predictably yummy fries. David had the “Cesar salade avec poulet frite” which looked delicious and which he finished down to the last little piece of lettuce.

Of course we were a bit tired by the time we got to the Chagall museum. We’ve seen plenty of Chagall, and David said he was not that into him because “too many goats.” So we had a contest—first one to see a goat wins. I won—third painting. We wandered the collection which is displayed in airy, spacious rooms and enjoyed it enough but our eyes couldn’t absorb any more and we walked home.

Home is my aunt’s enormous and comfortable four bedroom apartment in the thick of the commercial area, super convenient to the tram, to a large and fantastic Monoprix department store—though all we can vouch for is the overwhelming grocery, boulangerie, prepared food section. Every morning I take croissant orders and am there a bit after 8am, selecting the same assortment (butter croissants for me and the two other friends of my aunt spending the week here; a GIANT pain chocolat for David, and the ‘round thing with raisins’ for my aunt). After three days of buying more or less the same things from the same somewhat dour woman, this morning I said “A demain!” (See you in the morning!) and got a big smile and “Oui! A demain!” I think she might be tired, not dour.

After the museum overload we took the tram, right outside the apartment, to Vieux Ville, the old city. It is not separated from the rest of the city—no wall or gate that we saw—but it reminded us of the old cities and towns we’ve visited thus far. A few touristy shops and restaurants, a crowded plaza outside the old Cathedrale, but the same delightful narrow back streets and assortment of enticing places to eat lunch. We ended up at Bistro Antoine and oh oh oh. When I commented to the woman at the next table (she’s from Cyprus) how delicious our lunch was she said well of course, it’s been recognized under some designation or other by Michelin. We left so happy and full, but managed to eat the three beignets we had picked up at the open market. I mean, you cannot let fresh baked goods go uneaten.

We walked along the waterfront a block or two and took the ascensuer (elevator) up to the top of the Colline de Chateau, walked around the chateau ruins, wandered the gardens (we wander a lot!), explored the Jewish cemetery, then walked back down super tired to the tram and hopped on. In a few minutes we were home.

**In this lovely hilltop garden is a memorial to those who saved Jews during WWII…”that their courageous acts will never be forgotten.”**

Skip this if you’re not a museum person

Posted on March 30, 2025 by Catherine

We love museums. History and art are our favorites, and everywhere we go we spend hours in museums. Really. They are restful, mind-expanding, educational, and for us just plain fun.

I will now tell you about the museums of Avignon and tomorrow will add a bit about Villeneuve-Lez-Avignon. There are some great ones.

Our first day in Avignon we stopped at the Office de Tourisme and discovered there are four free museums—we visited three of them that first day. David and I are into Roman history and we had several day trips we had planned to see Roman ruins. And here we find out that there is a museum of Roman artifacts, Lapidaire Musee, a few doors from the Office de Tourisme. And free! We headed right over there and wow, what a lovely experience if you like Roman stuff.

A single soaring room filled, without feeling crowded, with all these amazing items that were excavated in Avignon, most in the mid 1800s. Best of all as you can see nothing is behind a barrier (except glassware and little ceramics) so you can walk right up and see things close. There was another couple in there with us and I said offhand to the woman “Incroyable, oui?” She nods yes and asks me if I am Spanish—doubtless due to my lousy accent. I say I do speak Spanish thinking that is what she speaks. She asks me where in Spain I am from. I say California, and ask her if SHE is from Spain. No, they are from France. Then we have a mish mash conversation, a melange of French and Spanish. We smile and laugh, then I hear her explaining to her husband what THAT was all about. Needless to say through this first week my French has come more easily and my accent has improved tremendously.

Anyway, get a load of this Roman mosaic. So beautiful.

Next we headed uphill to the Palais de Papes and across the plaza to the Musee Petit Palais. This is a relatively small museum, free, with an extensive collection of medieval paintings, virtually all religious as that’s what artists were expected to paint. The docents were wonderful (yes, I had questions) and were able to follow my French to my delight. But the best part for me was the ground floor exhibit that detailed what the profession of painter entailed in the Middle Ages. The artist who led an atelier with many apprentices was not just an artist and painter. He had to be a project manager, a teacher, a bit of a chemist—mixing colors was an art in itself in addition to a science—and a salesman. Of course! But I had never thought about it and led me to think differently about what art was all about in those days.

Finally, although we were warned it was boring we went inside the Palais de Papes. It is enormous..and we loved it. When you check in you get a tablet that, when aimed at a stand in each room, shows the room as historians believe it looked like in the day. Very cool, and surprising how walls, beams and ceilings were painted as well as the array of furniture. The tablet had loads of information about each room, how it was used, in some cases what it meant. When you get to the chambre de pape (the pope’s bedroom) the uncovered and restored tiles that cover the floor are breathtaking—and they let you walk on them! So neat. We failed to take any pictures inside so you’ll have to visit yourself. It is definitely NOT boring.

36 Hours’ Worth of Kanazawa

Posted on April 21, 2024 by Catherine

A Less Than Encouraging Start

We checked into the Dormy Inn—our fourth—a short block from beautiful Kanazawa Station. The enormous entry, with huge sculptures representing traditional drums, is spectacular, the gardens and sitting areas peaceful. This Dormy Inn was probably the nicest with our larger room and an outdoor pool in the 14th floor onsen. Kanazawa, our last stop before returning to Tokyo, was a bit off the tourist track and we weren’t sure what we would do there. I did know if my ceramics shopping was still enticing me after Tamba and Kyoto i could finish it there, but had no clear plan where to go other than the two stores I had found weeks ago. I wanted to get one checked off and picked the one furthest out. We got on a bus after lunch (more about lunch later) using our mostly-accurate google maps app.

Oh, the buses of Kanazawa. As one helpful man told us, Kanazawa has only begun to attract tourists in the last few years, and the mishmash of streets combined with the most confusing bus system we have ever encountered made “hopping a bus” nothing like our week of tourist-friendly Kyoto. The signage on the stops is messy and seemingly contradictory (a loop bus that starts and ends at Kanazawa Station had, on one loop bus stop sign, a small notice in the middle of the text that “this bus does not go to Kanazawa Station”, just an example among many). Some blocks have, within 15 yards, two or three bus stops, each for a different set of buses. The buses have a lighted grid sign at the front next to the driver, each numbered block with a different price which we never did figure out. Unlike Kyoto, only the next upcoming stop is shown in English, forcing us to pay attention to each and every stop. And, the helpful man told us apologetically, “In the morning and evening the buses are reliable, but during the day…” He shrugged. Lastly, Google maps repeatedly lost us, or told us, when we were at a numbered stop, that we were not at that stop and had to walk 3 minutes to another street (helpful man said he had no idea but to stay put because if we caught that same numbered bus in a different spot it would not take us where we wanted to go.). It was frustrating and made us feel unwelcome. Oh and they do NOT accept Suica cards, the cards we have used in every city for transportation, konbinis, pretty much anything.

Bus footnote to the day—when returning to the hotel late in the afternoon we were delighted to see a JR bus coming. We have a JR Arch (a regional) pass, which we used our last days in Kyoto on several JR buses and of course was our method to get the Shinkansen to Kanazawa and back to Tokyo. Several times on that JR Kanazawa bus the PA announced if you had a JR pass to show it on exiting. So when we got to our stop we confidently walked up and flashed our pass. Gruff driver says “no good” no matter what we pointed to on the pass. “No, no,” he insists. We knew now we had to dig out cash, so I asked “How much?” The driver shoved my arm in disgust and waved us off the bus. Yeah, love the Kanazawa bus system.

We did find the outlying ceramics shop. It was in an old, semi-rundown neighborhood. About half the items in the very small showroom were out of stock so would have to be mailed at a future date and the prices were out of our range. We trudged to the stop/bus station where we found the helpful man, and after he and the agent had at least four conversations over the next twenty minutes about what we should do and how to get there, “there” being one of the largest and most revered tourist sites, suddenly a bus appeared and helpful man ran over to tell us “This one!” and we gratefully climbed aboard. Google maps on David’s phone told us to get off at one stop; on my phone it said a different stop. But it turned out fine, and we entered THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GARDEN in Japan.

Kenroku-en Garden

Wow. Wow. This garden was initially laid out in the 1620’s, but its current configuration was finished in 1822. It sits on a high point, almost a bluff, next to the castle ruins and it is spectacular. The sun was out, it was cool and a little breezy, and we began to like this city after all. We have been to many many gardens in many countries, and this wins hands down. While it has the feel of a typical small-scale Japanese garden, it is enormous, filled with enormous, meticulously pruned trees. Many are supported by one, ten, twenty crossed timbers, having been encouraged into bonsai-shapes of almost horizontal branches. We watched several gardeners removing, literally, needle by needle. We wandered and strolled, took pictures and enjoyed the other tourists, rested on benches, took a tour of a “villa” built in the 1800’s filled with cases of miniature household (a wealthy one) items that represented what a girl of the family would be bringing as a dowry. After a few hours we collapsed and after typical confusion about where the bus stop was we got on that ill-fated JR bus with the grumpy driver.

The Samurai House District

I stayed up late searching for ceramics stores and found four clustered in what is now known as the Samurai House District. After breakfast we took the bus down and started a-strolling. Peaceful, lovely, with historic houses, historic gardens, and amazing ceramics shopping. I thought I had been finished in Kyoto, but, alas, I needed one more fix and what a fantastic place to get it. After repeatedly vowing to buy only gifts, I caved at the last store and bought a few little things for myself. Everything is packed within an inch of its life, bubble wrap and boxes and paper and all. Thank goodness we pack light because Zipair is rigid about sizes and weights. I think we’ll be fine. I think.

Lunching at Ochimo Market Twice in Two Days

When we first arrived after a train ride of two hours we were hungry and Ochimo market was maybe a 20 minute walk up a main street. Kanazawa is known for seafood. Let’s go!

Unlike most similar markets, this one is designed for people to stand and eat at the fresh seafood stalls. Counters with condiments and small tables abound (no chairs). The seafood is peak fresh and delicious, the atmosphere happy and helpful. The first day we went into one of the myriad tiny sit down restaurants, all of which seem to serve the same things for the same prices. I had a mixed seafood over rice bowl, David had the minced tuna over rice bowl. David held his phone up to the specials blackboard and Google helpfully translated. Fried oysters? Yes please, oysters are a specialty of the city. Have I ever had better? Nope. I don’t believe it is possible for better to exist. Had fried oysters the second night at an izakaya around the corner from our hotel, and though a bit smaller they were just as good.

Of course we went back on Saturday. This time we wandered the stalls watching people eat. Raw Oysters. Raw fish. Sea urchin. After we ate our sushi and crab we stopped to watch a young couple from Australia eating wagyu beef cooked on a little ceramic stove on the counter in front of them. We asked how it worked, watching the preparation and thinking maybe we weren’t so full after all. You select a piece from the counter; they slice it, fire up your little burner, lay out the salt and garlic chips, and you eat. Yes, worth every penny and every melting bite eaten with flaky salt and garlic chips.

**Every kind of jarred condiments…from a green onion sauce to some with uni (sea urchin), something I cannot imagine in a jar.**

21st Century Museum of Art

This amazing celebration of modern art was damaged in the December 2023 earthquake and the interior has yet to reopen fully. It sits in a large park filled with families on the Saturday we visited. Whispering tubes, climbing structures, cool-o places to sit, a large multi-colored glass box, reflective sculptures and wide lawns surround the circular glass building. Because only the exterior ring inside the building is open there is no admission fee—there is only one “gallery” with a single kinetic mobile is open. It was oddly entertaining—though all windows, the soundproofing is total and from the perimeter inside families carousing and couples strolling outside seemed like an immersive, silent movie.

There are plenty of museums around the park and castle ruins area, but we had neither time nor energy. We finished the day drinking and conversing and sharing pictures of our dogs via translation apps on our respective phones, with a young couple at the neighboring table in an izakaya around the corner from the hotel. They were from Tokyo and delighted we had been and were returning to their city. We returned to the Dormy Inn, had a last bath in the outside onsen where the moon shone and the wind blew, and fell into bed. On to Tokyo, last stop before home.

A Few Snaps of Breakfast at the Kanazawa Dormy

Kid friendly dishes, a strange local food combo, and my bowl of Kanazawa curry, appropriately garnished with pickles, roasted sweet potato, and shredded cabbage (surprisingly good).

That indescribable feeling

Posted on April 9, 2024 by Catherine

We love museums. So far we have been to three here in Osaka, one per day. This, combined with the sometimes interminable walking required to use the fantastic public transportation, is why no matter how much I eat, I lose a few pounds on a traveling vacation. And I do eat with abandon, believe me.

For more information on all of these see https://museums.ocm.osaka/museums-info/museums-info-en/

Day One, we wander the Edo period, and eat

First full day we went to the Osaka Museum of Housing and Living. The intricate displays are models of life in the Edo period. One floor is life sized recreation of two streets in Osaka in the 1830s. You look down on the life sized streets from the floor above, then walk down and through it. Warm, helpful docents, authentic houses and shops. There is even a ‘kimono experience, where a kimono expert dresses you, both girls and women, with all the care and intricacy required. The many small scaled displays show Osaka life in the twentieth century. Bonus—adjacent to the building is an arcade shopping street where I satisfied my craving for cold soba and one big veggie tempura. David had a bowl of noodles and other things we couldn’t identify. As is most common here, it was a little narrow “joint” where every order is fresh. Then I bought a big baggy shirt to blend in a bit.

Day Two, we go back to the beginning and through a flurry

The next day it was the Osaka Museum of History. It takes you from the earliest settlements, and all about the archeological digs ongoing to plot where the first people lived, to modern times. Many exhibits are a mix of life sized displays you walk through and multimedia explanations. May I say thank goodness for google translate, which enabled us in every museum to translate the text explanations. Fun, overwhelming, jammed with information—and a bonus—the incredible views of Osaka Castle and surrounding grounds.

Having absorbed our fill of Osaka history we crossed the street to the castle grounds, where a small jammed Lawson’s satisfied our hunger. We made a picnic of our $6 investment and then wandered through bowers of cherry blossoms, petals blowing like a snow flurry. Wow.

Day Three, that feeling

Nakanoshima Museum of Art was a bit of a trek given our predictable issues with Google maps walking directions, but oh so worthwhile . They have no permanent collection—just special shows. We started with the Monet, an enormous retrospective showing how he evolved into painting series. It was stunning, as were the visitors. Lots and lots of hushed conversations about the paintings. It felt different, people more involved with the art than is common in the US.

Down a floor, short rest to get a bit of energy back, and we dove into the other exhibit, Fukuda Heihachiro: A Retrospective. Never heard of the guy. Walked in, and at the third painting i got that feeling, instantaneous love and emotional connection. It is a simple painting, Ducks by the Pond, painted in 1916. That feeling, like the first time I walked into the room of Matisse cutouts at the National Gallery. It is a rush of excitement, then a deep resonance in my chest like a gong. And I want to cry, and do for a few seconds. I couldn’t tear myself away. Walked on to see a huge painting on eight large screens…just sheep. No background , no setting, just intimacy with the animals. This amazing painter evolved and evolved, always paintings and sketches from nature. Later he moved toward abstraction as he distilled water rippling to dashes of blue, closeups of bamboo, a painting titled Rain that is roof tiles in a million shades of blue-grey.

Yeah, idiotic I know but I bought the exhibit catalog that we now have to schlep all over Japan. Photographing his works in the gallery was limited to maybe four, none of which excited me.

So we said goodby to this gorgeous museum with a wave to space cat.

Centro Historico de Ciudad de Mexico

Posted on November 18, 2019 by Catherine

We spent two separate days in the intense downtown and enjoyed both immensely. There is so much happening, seemingly at all times, it can be overwhelming…but the historical sights, the fascinating architecture, the markets all add up to a vibrant scene.

From Roma Norte it was about 20 minutes to downtown via Uber, though on Saturday the driver noted the many closed off streets made getting us to our museum of the day somewhat complicated.

The zocalo is immense. On one side is the cathedral, two sides are government buildings, and the fourth is shops at street level (mostly jewelry) and restaurants on the second level, meaning there are hawkers every few feet encouraging you to come and eat something. Once off the zocalo there is a mix of every kind of retail, many many restaurants at street level, and every few blocks or so a string of food stalls on the sidewalks. Is it my fault I spend all my time in Mexico hungry? The smells of corn tortillas and grilling meat and vegetables are so enticing. Mostly we recognized the food but every now and then I had to ask “what is that?” And I would have tried them all—if my stomach could have fit everything.

Templo Mayor

This was on our list but when we asked a driver “what is the one thing we should not miss while here” the answer was Templo Mayor. Yes!

The history of how this site was rediscovered is fascinating. I won’t go into it here, see the link, but let’s just say some developers were probably mighty pissed that their plans were foiled by a major discovery in 1978 (the round “tablet” below–it was a world-renowned find). And it is such a large excavation, right smack in the middle of the downtown, that it must have cost the city and country a lot of money in foregone taxes, not to mention the expense of the dig itself.

There is the site itself and the attached museum, both worth the time. We spent several hours and were fascinated and dazzled. The juxtaposition of the site and the adjacent cathedral is also pretty cool, as you view ancient and contemporary religions right up against each other.

It is quite impossible to show the scale of the two pieces on the right; the photo was taken from the second floor where the round piece is, looking down to the first floor where the rectangular piece is. They both represent goddesses. There are a few visitors on the right looking at the rectangular piece–shows, kind of, the scale of these things.

Tacos de canasta

I must share our lunch experience. I very quickly glanced at yelp and saw a highly rated taco place and without reading anything we headed over-it is just a half block off the zocalo. The name is Tacos de Canasta los Especiales, and there was a large queue which David joined while I slid past the line to the inside to try and figure out the deal. In the back was a large multi-part room, lined with narrow stainless steel counters and every 5 feet or so enormous bins of chopped lettuce, pickled jalapeños and carrots, and seemingly gallons of a guacamole salsa. Every few feet the counters had stacks of napkins–this is an ‘eat with your hands’ place. I went back to David, shrugged my shoulders and in a minute we were at the first “station”. I asked “que es el sistema?” and he replied we paid for how many tacos we wanted, he then handed us a token with the number of tacos, we handed the token to the next guy who gave us two paper plates each with two tacos that he had scooped out of the basket in front of him, and we headed back to a counter to eat. We don’t remember what it cost but according to Yelp it’s 40 pesos for 5 tacos plus a drink. Suffice to say it was embarrassingly cheap, and they were delicious and the entire scene great fun. HINT: Carry some silverware with you–I have some snap together knife/fork/spoon “kits” in a little box that I bought at Cole Hardware in downtown SF. They sure came in handy here, as I didn’t want to leave a bit of the crunchy lettuce and jalapeños.

Palacio de Bellas Artes

We decided to wander and ended up walking over to the Palacio de Bellas Artes where we enjoyed the beautiful architecture, murals, and a very fun temporary exhibit titled “Redes de Vanguardia” (networks of the vanguard) about Amauta, a Peruvian arts and politics journal from the 1926-1930 that for the first time brought indigenes art and culture to the fore. Seems so obvious now, but recognizing indigenes contributions was a breakthrough at the time.

One wall on the third floor is Diego Rivera’s remake of the mural he completed on commission for Rockefeller Center in NY. The commission was refused and the mural destroyed for its socialist political statement.

Museo de la Ciudad de Mexico

This is one of those places that is terribly under-represented in the guide books. We went there our last full day in the city, and it was a wow. The building, just a few blocks off the zocalo, is lovely, the displays about the challenges of large urban centers is a multi-media wonder, and the information about the city itself—its history from pre-Hispanic to modern times is rich and entertaining. However, some Spanish is recommended as much of the information is not translated (though much is). There is an entire room devoted to explaining the many different jobs that keep the city running, from teachers to street food vendors to dog walkers to construction workers. Each wall is covered with photos and descriptions, and there are also five or six videos that profile work and workers…it was incredibly illuminating and it brings the people of the city alive.

On the second floor are a series of art exhibits, including one that had just opened—we were so lucky!—that comprised four large rooms filled with mostly very large contemporary paintings of Ciudad de Mexico. We loved it.

Two ways of explaining what Mexico City is all about!

This may have been our favorite art exhibit of the trip.

Downtown on a holiday weekend

That last day, a Saturday, the zocalo was filled with tents. We asked our Uber driver what was going on and he said it was just “normal.” As we walked around we figured out it was a celebration/observation of life with a physical disability. For example, there was a footrace with paired runners, tied together at the wrist with one runner blindfolded. There were wheelchair races and apparently a race on crutches, as there were many pairs of crutches lined up against the fence. A short zipline was managed by members of the military helping kids go back and forth. We didn’t enter but it looked like a lot of fun, like a different kind of carnival. “Normal.”

Naturally for Mexico, around the fair were artisan street vendors selling anything and everything. Something we had not seen before were maybe five or six spots where indigenes shamans (?) offering purification. Individuals stood with their arms out, eyes closed, as they were fanned with burning bundles of dried something that might have been sage, serenaded by conch wails, and otherwise rid of bad spirits. Intriguing, but I wasn’t brave enough to do it. Small children ran everywhere, and I had to photograph a group of 4-6 year olds sitting on the pavement trading Barbie and other doll clothes so intensely they were oblivious to anything happening around them.

Downtown architecture is a mishmash of the new and the old.

From here we walked to La Ciudadela, an artisanal market. The market was really great and well worth a stop even though we had been shopping at markets for two weeks. The walk could have been a 15 minute affair but the crowded streets and vendors were too interesting to rush by and we spent about 40 minutes dawdling. I was hungry (surprising?) so kept stopping to ask street vendors “what is this?” I am still regretting not trying a “pata” taco–the customer who told me this mysterious ingredient’s name put her fingers to her lips, Italian style, gave a kiss and said “Muy rica!” A few blocks later, though, we came upon “Tacos de Tripa.” The cook pulled pieces of tripe out of a boiling caldron, chopped them into tiny pieces, tossed them on the steel grill where they became crispy, separated them into little piles each of which he covered with a tortilla, deftly flipped each over, crisping up the tortilla as well. I love tripe and was delighted to stop and order one, yes please to onions and cilantro, while a couple eating next to me asked “What is the word for ‘tripa’ in English?” (In Spanish of course.) And then they wanted to know the English word for caliente, hot, which I explained was the same as the word for picante (spicy). We agreed that ‘tripa’ (tree-pa) is a much prettier word than ‘tripe.’ Oh yes, the taco was delicious.

Wandering Mexico City

Posted on November 17, 2019 by Catherine

As everywhere we have been in Mexico, this is a friendly, comfortable city where a little Spanish will get you far, most everyone is happy to explain or help, moving around is straightforward, Uber is ridiculously cheap, and the food is plentiful and delicious.

We have started each day with coffee and a pastry (if you are in Roma Norte we highly recommend Buna for croissants—cuernitos—of the highest quality and especially well made espresso drinks), stopping at a fruit/juice street vendor for what may be a quart of freshly squeezed orange juice for 40 pesos or so, then after a refresh at the hotel calling Uber to head to a museum. From there we wander to a taco stand or market or hole-in-the-wall place for lunch, and either walk and wander or call Uber to take us back to the hotel to spend the rest of the day in and around the Roma neighborhood.

Yesterday, for example, we visited the Museo Soumaya in the Polanco neighborhood, known as the Beverly Hills of Mexico City and reputed to be the most desirable real estate in Latin America. The museum contains Carlos Slim’s personal collection. The guidebooks call it “eclectic” and I would rename it “Stuff I Bought.” It is the most bizarre, oddly organized, hodgepodge of an art museum imaginable, housing everything from an enormous (too much so) collection of Rodin to postcards and watches. The building was designed by his son-in-law and is, shall we say, striking. The interior has an open stairway and ramp which wind from level to level and room to room, and I was freezing the entire time because there is a wind tunnel effect adding to the oddness of the experience. Sr. Slim has no apparent discipline or taste, and while the collection includes many paintings from recognizable artists I learned something I’m not sure I wanted to know—even the biggest names (Renoir, for example) did some truly mediocre work. But it was free, we toured with energy, and were out in perhaps 90 minutes.

The top floor of the museum is overflowing with way, way too many examples of European sculpture, maybe 25 Degas and 75 Rodin…impossible to appreciate any one piece. David said, “I feel like I am in a warehouse “

Having no interest in walking around a cliche rich peoples’ neighborhood to ogle houses or Chanel shops, we hopped an Uber and went to the Friday market in Condesa to find something to eat. Now, that was more like it.
Below note the beautiful blue corn gorditas and quesadillas. A very nice man in front of the cooks is there to explain what is on offer and take orders. Gorditas were “chicharron” but in truth that meant cheese, nopales, and a few other vegetables stuffed into fat tortillas that were split like pita and grilled. The mushroom quesadilla was alas eaten too quickly to make it into the photo. I was happy to see a juice vendor so I could get a picture showing the enormous number of small, green and yellow orange rinds piled into the two big bags as he grabbed halves, pulled down on the juicer, and tossed them aside in a single motion. Poetry.

It was about a mile’s walk back to our neighborhood in Roma, so we decided that would make a perfect end to the afternoon. We were correct—discovering the beautiful, dog-filled Parque Mexico and the enchanting architecture of Condesa, and before we knew it we were back “home.”

At least half the dogs in the last picture were fast asleep. The two dog walkers were standing to the right talking…that must have been some walk!

Trotsky and Casa Azul

Our friend Christina had encouraged us to check out the Coyoacan neighborhood and that meshed nicely with our plan to see Trotsky’s house and small museum as well as Casa Azul, the home of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, two worthwhile sites only a few blocks apart.

We had both been ignorant of the Trotsky story, and both had the same revelation about how the heck Trotsky ended up living, and being assassinated, in Mexico City. Turns out Rivera, also a socialist, had prevailed on the government to give Trotsky asylum, and even had him as a houseguest for a few months (during which there was apparently a strong flirtation between Frida and Leon).

Trotsky comes across as a lovely guy, doting on his chickens and rabbits while he wrote obsessively, often using a dictation machine. It was while he was working at his desk that the assassin came up behind him and hit him in the head with an axe. It is a very small, traditional, modest casa and he and his wife were admired for adopting a completely Mexican life.

Now, Casa Azul is something else again—filled with art, curios, gardens, studios, traditional kitchen (no electricity or modern accoutrements of any kind), and the very sad remnants of Frida’s pain-filled life. In spite of her physical misery, however, she had many lovers and intense relationships while at the same time suffering greatly from Diego’s affairs. We rented the audio-video tour and highly recommend it.

On the left, a commissioned painting which was refused by the patron when Frida presented it—intended as a dining room still life, it was a bit too filled with erotic symbolism. In the middle is Frida’s palette. The audio tour includes her description of each color and its meaning. The painting at the right is one of (maybe the?) last she did right before her death, celebrated for Viva la Vida, her belief to the end that life was worth living.

The volcanic stone addition was built to Diego’s specifications to add a studio for Frida. This was the house she grew up in, but her father borrowed money from Diego and when he was unable to repay him Diego acquired the property, which he then gave to Frida.

We walked on a few blocks to the small mercado looking for lunch, and ended up in a lovely conversation with a couple from Montreal, ate an enormous lunch at a little counter in the middle of the market, walked for a while in the lovely, quite, cobblestoned neighborhood of Coyoacan, then took Uber home to Roma Norte.