by David McGuffin | May 13, 2008 | Destinations, Essential Travel Resources, Experiencing Europe
An IBIS Hotel
Avignon, France
I’ve marketed my Exploring Europe tours with the slogan “Thrifty and Tasteful Travel” for sometime. But just last night it came to me what I really mean by it. Tonight I am Avignon, a wonderful city with lots of history, culture, and style. The only problem is that all the tour groups that go through southern France stop here, add their euros to the economy, and then move on to somewhere else. I stopped by today to see if I could test my “Thrifty and Tasteful” concept.
Last night, in the remote village of Bonnieux, I was having a glass of wine at the bar down the street from my hotel. As I was writing my “Blog” and updating my journal the “Thrifty and Tasteful” concept materialized before me. So here it is….
In Bonnieux I spent 50 euro on a rather spartan, yet clean, room with a shower, sink, toilet, bed, and great view. There were better rooms in the village and even at the hotel, but I was alone and trying to impress no one. I figured the money saved on the room could be better spent on dinner. I was out 50 euro for my room and now I went in search of a place for dinner. I always checkout practically every place in town before deciding where to eat, and it was no different in Bonnieux. Bonnieux did present a special problem in that the town was small and built on a mountain, so anywhere I wanted to walk was either uphill or downhill. It never amazes me that where I want to go is always uphill!
After scouting the town, dodging the thunderstorm (complete with pea-sized pellets of hail) I ended up right back at my hotel’s restaurant. The owner, Pierre, had welcomed me to France (in English) when I checked in and now I asked him to tell me about dinner. Pierre took me into the dining room and showed me the “panoranique” view, described the menu choice in English, and even showed me the kitchen! Well I was hooked and made a reservation for 8:00. (BTW, I make it a habit not to tell the hotel and restaurant owners who I am or what I do until after the service, and only then if I want to return).
So for dinner I spent 36 euro on a four course meal that was simply amazing. The waitress suggested a bottle of local “Cote du Luberon” red wine which I took her up on. I had Foie Gras with fresh grilled bread, salad, and confiture of prunes for the starter (if you don’t like duck’s liver you should try it at one of my recommended places in France). I picked a regional speciality for the main course consisting of baby lamb shank roasted in its own fat and seasoned with juice, rosemary sprigs, and thyme. The meat fell off the bone and the rosemary was presented in a way that I could cut off fresh sprigs and add to each bite to enhance the flavor to my liking. By now I was completely satisfied and pleasantly full, but the goat’s cheese plate came and I had to have some of it. The cheese was produced in Buoux, a village about ten miles away. There was desert, but I’d had enough and skipped it. The waitress said she’d add the check to my hotel bill and I could settle up in the morning.
Ahh…talk about “Tasteful Travels” I found it in Bonnieux. So I guess I’ve discovered that I’m willing to stay in a two star hotel and dine like a king as opposed to staying in a four star hotel and trying to skimp on the food. If I had all the money in the world it would be different, but it seems just right for my “Thrifty and Tasteful Tour” philosophy.
Meanwhile tonight I’m staying in a two star IBIS hotel. These hotels are all over France and it’s kind of nice to “come home” to the same room no matter what city you’re in. But I did not succeed in finding an excellent and affordable place to eat, but that’s a story for another night.
Bonne nuit,
-David
by David McGuffin | May 10, 2008 | Destinations
I always get excited when it comes to getting ready to travel. Yes, there is that hectic period when I think I’ll never get everything done in time to catch my flight. Invariably, once my passport’s been shown, I get my boarding pass, and clear security, I always breath a sigh of relief knowing there is nothing more I can do but get on the plane and go.
I feel like that today… too much to do and not enough time to do it! I’m heading to Nice and the Cote D’ Azur to do a little exploring on my own and then pick up a tour group. I’ve recently been re-reading Peter Mayle’s “A Year in Provence” so I’ve decided to take a spin up into the Luberon for a couple of days. I’ll keep you posted and let you know how it all works out.
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 25, 2007 | David's Journal, Destinations
Me and My Dad circa 1957
I’ve always been a little sentimental about memories. When I was a kid, I remember spending hours at my grandparents’ home looking through old black and white family photos. These photos were kept in the “middle room” in the bottom right drawer of a dresser. Back then, in the 1960’s, the collection of photos contained photos of my grandparents and parents taken from the 1930’s and 1940’s. My Uncle Bob, the oldest child of my grandparents, was interested in photography when he was in college and had left quite a collection of photographs in that drawer.
While browsing through those faded black and white photos, I always enjoyed identifying phots of relatives, taken in their younger days. But what really interested me was the locations in which they were taken. I dreamed of distant places and new locales, even if they were just “back home” in South Carolina or at the local zoo.
Later when I was in college, Charlotte and I actually wrote letters to one another, and we still have them today. Those handwritten letters are sometimes funny to look back upon and read. It’s funny, but I can always remember the exact locale, circumstances, or events to which we referred in those letters. I guess that’s why when I was about to depart on a big trip to Europe, I decided to purchase a leather bound journal to record my thoughts, reflections, and memories.
So in June 1997, I set off on a band performance tour to Europe organized by EF Educational Tours. Now, those of you who have known me for some time, know that EF Tours is the reason I started my tour company, Exploring Europe. But at that time, I did not have the know-how or the resources to set up a tour to Europe, much less a performance tour! So, I relied on a tour company to plan and organize the tour, our accomodations, transportation, dining, and performance venues. Here is an entry from the first pages of my 1997 journal:
“June 5, 1997-
Today, we were up at 7 a.m. in Middleburg (FL) doing the last minute stuff that always makes me late. Why Charlotte picked this day to get her hair cut and frosted is beyond me, but she did! I left for the bank, school, and last minute errands by 8:30 and began my rush to get things done here at home. The most important stop was at our bank to get Traveler’s Checks. I arrived back home at 10 a.m. and met up with my kids and some friends for our trip to the airport. We still had to make a stop at the “hair place” to pick up Charlotte and Brian, and by the time we got there, it was pouring rain. After our first of many “passport and moneybelt checks,” we were on our way.
We arrived at the airport by 11:35 a.m. and found the Continential Airlines check-in desk. Benny, the agent there, was very helpful with getting our group checked in and most importantly, getting all our instruments on free of charge. By 12:30 the whole group had checked in and we all walked down to the gate.
Finally at 2:30 p.m. we departed Jacksonville and were off on our adventure. After about two hours, we arrived at Newark. In transit, we flew over Manhattan and I got my first look at New York City. The Empire State Building, World Trade Center Twin Towers, and Statue of Liberty were pretty darn impressive, especially for a country boy from Middleburg.
To get in the European spirit, we had pasta at “Sabbaro” in Newark airport, then hung out for about two hours. We boarded Flight #56 at 7:25 p.m. and were off the ground by 8:30. The flight was uneventful – I slept most of the time due to my taking two Bayer PM. We also had ear plugs and an eye mask which really helped me sleep.”
My Reflections in December 2007:
How I’ve changed in those ten years! Traveler’s Checks, Bayer PM, eye masks, quick airline check-in, and the World Trade Center are things of the past. Now-a-days, I use my debit card to get local cash, I have a glass of wine instead of Bayer PM, the World Trade center is no more, and my cap or hat takes the place of the eye mask.
There is more to come with this trip; we aren’t even in Europe yet! Needless to say that trip must have had a lasting impression on me. Now nearing the end of 2007, I’ve got a collection of nine leather bound journals chronicling my adventures in Europe and the rest of the world. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about me and my travels.
November 2011 Update:
I am turning my “pen and paper” journal into an online episodic account of my travels. This is the first in a weekly series that will appear over the next few months. If you have questions, comments, suggestions, or just want to add more information, I’d love to hear from you. Simply click the {comments} tab below and type away.
Episode 2 arriving November 14, 2011
-David
by David McGuffin | Dec 22, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, Culture & Customs, Destinations
David’s note: This Journal entry was originally written in June 2007 details my adventure “driving” in Spain.
A few weeks ago my friends and I decided to explore a town which I’d never visited. We were in southern Spain, in the region known as the “route of the white villages.” This region is very mountainous and rugged, but dotting many of the hilltops are villages with their houses all decked out in bright white paint. We decided to visit one such village known as Arcos de la Fronteria.
Our group consisted of only 6 people, but we had a 9 passenger VW Van which made our travels quite comfortable…except for today. We arrived at the “bottom” of the town and practically drove right into the big underground garage. I thought this was great because it cuts down majorly on the stress of driving in a new place. However, we soon discovered that this was not the place we had read about in the guidebooks. We were looking for a hilltop medieval village.
After looking around a bit we decided the “town” we were in was considered the “new town” (only about 400 years old) and the one which we were looking for was a little farther up the hill. So…I asked a couple of people where the old town was and they all pointed uphill and spoke rapidly in Spanish which I totally did not understand. However, I did understand the pointing uphill part, so I felt reasonably confident that we should leave the comfort of the underground garage and drive uphill.
So up the hill, we went. Imagine a big white VW Van barreling up a steep cobbled street that is only a couple of feet wider than our vehicle. There were five people leaning forward, looking in all directions, trying to read street signs and give me hints on directions and driving styles. At this point, we were doing well. We even saw a couple of signs announcing the plaza we were seeking.
A delivery van was in front of us. That, plus us, made the only two vehicles going up the steep little street. But for the moment it was a street and all was well. Luckily the street was “one way” mostly because there was no way in the world two vehicles could pass each other. Soon the delivery van veered off to the left and we were faced with a decision…following him in a direction where there was maybe vehicular traffic, or go right into the unknown. I veered left and followed the delivery truck.
It wasn’t long before we all realized this was a mistake. The small road we had traveled uphill on had dwindled to nothing more than mere cobbled lane with not more than twelve inches of clearance on either side of the van. There was absolutely no place to turn around, so we followed the van. By now all my friends had quit giving advice…probably because there was none to give now.
We slowly came around a corner and found the delivery van had stopped and the driver was shouting to someone inside a house. We sat there a bit and soon a tiny garage door opened and the van squeezed in. Uh…oh…now here we were, stranded, with nowhere to go except downhill. But I thought this was logical since the only way off a mountain was downhill. So away we went. Downhill on the increasingly smaller cobbled street which had now turned to nothing more than a medieval sidewalk.
pretty narrow
As I am sitting here writing this entry a couple of weeks later, it is hard to describe just how small and steep this little passageway really was. There were times, even after we pulled in the side view mirrors, that we had less than one-half an inch of clearance on either side of the van. In retrospect, all six of us were very calm considering the situation.
The siesta period must have just ended because soon there were people coming out of the woodwork. Kids on scooters, women standing around gossiping, babies in buggies, and kids with toys. All of them were milling around in this little street on which I was driving. By the way, they were standing on the street because there was nowhere else to stand! I was really getting worried by now and began questioning everyone I saw with, “donde esta salida,” I think that is “where is the exit?” in Spanish. They all seemed amazed we were up there in the first place! I was amazed too! Each responded rapidly with something in Spanish and pointed downhill. I was getting good at understanding Spanish hand signals by now and continued ever so slowly downhill. With each meter, it seemed the street got narrower and narrower.
Before all the people showed up
We came to this hairpin turn. Here I had to maneuver the van back and forth about twenty times on a steep downhill grade just to get the van headed in the right direction downhill. This created an attraction in the neighborhood and it seemed everyone came out to take a look and comment on my driving skills, not to mention my stupidity for being up there in the first place. So here I was, working the clutch with one foot, the gas with the other, the emergency brake with my right hand, and trying to steer with my left. Remember this was all on a steep downhill grade, a one hundred and twenty-degree left-hand turn, and people all around.
By now everybody in the neighborhood was out in the street giving me directions and yelling out how much clearance I had here and there. I’m sure it meant something to them, but to me, I understood nothing except an occasional “no”.
It was a miracle, but we got out of that predicament with no scratches or dents to the van. After a couple of more close calls with clearances, the road began to gradually widen and soon there was plenty of room on either side. As luck would have it, we ended right back up in the underground parking lot where we had started an hour ago. We all sat for a moment in silence, each thanking the Lord for the miracle of my driving. Finally, we breathed a sigh of relief.
I parked in the garage and we all walked up the hill to the top of town. It was here we found that amazing medieval village with so much charm as described in the guidebook I was using. We found a hotel, I left the group at the bar and I walked back down the hill, got in the van and drove up the hill directly to the central plaza parking area. It was a piece of cake the second time around!
by David McGuffin | May 27, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, David's Journal, Destinations
The flight to Edinburgh was completely full. But that did not matter. I watched a bit of the movie, had my pasta and vino for dinner, and sequestered myself for three good hours of sleep with my iPod playing Bartok all night.
We finally got to Edinburgh town center by 12:00 and we were starving. So we found a seat at the “World’s End Pub” for a good meal of fish and chips. After lunch, we hit the streets again and saw all the sights there are to see in Edinburgh. We walked along Rose Street and window shopped, hiked-up Calton Hill for a grand city view, watched people, and found a good bench in the park.
Later we made our way up to the Castle. The medieval buildings are impressive and you can imagine yourself walking those very streets as if you were back in the 1400’s. It was a Saturday so the town was busy but the people and weather were nice. However, it was a bit cold, but not too bad. I would say that the high was around 55’F, which is pretty nice in the sun.
Later in the evening we got a call from Lindsey, my friend, who goes to the University of Edinburgh. She wanted to meet us at the Waverly Pub later that night for a couple of pints. So, we set out to find a good place for dinner. This was around 19:00 and we forgot that it was a Saturday with a Bank Holiday on Monday to follow. We walked around a long time before finding a place that wasn’t full. The name of the restaurant was “The Wee Windaes” up on the Royal Mile. The food was really good and we made it inside before the rain and hail (who woulda thunk) started coming down. I had lamb chops and Natalie had fresh Scottish Salmon.
After dinner we walked down the Royal Mile and found the Waverley Pub. Natalie and I went in, but found the place deserted, save for a bar tender and a couple of odd sorts at one of the tables. We got a couple of pints of Tennant’s and grabbed a table. I should have known better, but my mind was telling me “this is gonna be a dud evening”…however my heart knew better.
So…two hours later we were holding court at our table. Natalie was defending “W” and being “chatted-up” by our newfound friend Andrew who was a “newbie” at the Waverley. Meanwhile I sat back and took it all in while catching up on the news from Lindsey and her adventures with the University of Edinburgh, her landscaping ideals and the ultimate defense of her dissertation. This was an original pub with warm “drawn-from-the cellar-drop-by-drop ale” taps and plenty of “Callie80.”
After a few hours and several more pints we bailed on the Waverley and climbed up the Royal Mile, spat on the Edinburgh heart, hopped-skotched on the corner stones, petted the bronze Greyfrier’s Bobby, and finally ended at my favorite E’Burg pub known as “Sandy Bell’s”.
The place was packed, but somehow Natalie had a mission in mind and cleared the way. We ended up right by the musicians and the “Trad” session in the back. (“Trad” is short for traditional music session). We all grabbed a seat and the jig began. Wow, what a night! The bartender kicked us out at 1:30!
So, you might be wondering how I managed to fly over from the US, tour a city, and still experience a pub until the wee hours of the morning? Just pace yourself, don’t take a nap, keep walking, and sing-a-long with the band!
Cheers from Scotland!
David
by David McGuffin | Aug 16, 2005 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, David's Journal, Destinations
“Gubbio, what is there?” That was the response of my tour group as we floated out of Venice and hopped aboard our bus. It seemed we would never get out of Mestre, the industrial town just to the west of Venice. Finally we broke through the tangled web of tractor-trailer rigs and were on the Adriatic coastal road heading south into Italy. As the afternoon wore on we passed one small town after another. The little two-laned road seemed to never end. Finally we cut inland across the mountains and into the region of Umbria.
Gubbio, our homebase for the next three nights, lay at the foot of Mont Ingino. Peter, our driver, and I navigated our way into the town center but soon came to a dead-end at the town’s main square. The roads were all too narrow for our bus, but our hotel lay somewhere up ahead. I got out, walked through the square and continued up the small cobbled street looking in all directions for the hotel. I had the address, but that did not seem to help in this medieval tangle of one-laned alleyways. I was on the correct street, but it seemed to continue uphill forever. By luck I discovered a small iron gate inscribed with “Hotel Gattapone.” There was a buzzer nearby, I pushed it. Momentarily I was greeted by a monotone voice, “Bouna sera, Hotel Gattapone.” I responded in my best Italian, “mi chiamo David McGuffin con gruppo.” “Si, bienvuto, io basso,” the monotone voice responded. The gate sprung open and I headed down the stairs to the ground level.
Soon I was out the front door walking just a short distance back to the main square to retrieve my friends who had patiently been waiting on the bus. We unloaded our luggage with what seemed the whole town looking on. I don’t believe they were all that accustomed to having a tour bus in their town. We rolled and carried our bags up the hill, across the cobbled streets and into our hotel. The gentleman at the desk and I spoke, a little in English, a little in Italian, but we got everyone a room and settled in for our three night stay in Gubbio.
Umbria is a little region sandwiched in between the two biggies of Tuscany and Latium (Rome). This region is often overlooked on the tourist’s itinerary. However as we found out it has much to offer, especially in the area of cuisine! Later that evening we dined at the Taverna del Lupo, a five-diamond rated restaurant just around the corner from our hotel. For a starter we were served cured ham sprinkled with bits of apple, pineapple, and peaches all smothered in a delightful sauce. The tangy fruit complemented the rich and wild taste of the ham. Our pasta came next lightly seasoned with tomatoes and peppers giving it a bit of a zing. The main course consisted of tender veal in a mushroom and truffle sauce accompanied by roasted zucchini and potatoes. A generous serving of bruschetta and special fried bread rounded out the main course. As if we needed more, the meal was followed by home-made ice cream with a berry sauce for desert. Water and wine was included with the meal all for the fantastic price of about $30!
One morning I decided to walk through town and up to the Basilica di Sant’ Ubaldo on Mont Ingino. I began early, wandering through the steep cobbled streets taking in the peacefulness of a town just waking up. At this hour only a few shopkeepers were out tidying their storefronts and settling into the day. Quickly I discovered it was impossible to take just a stroll in this town. In the direction I was headed the streets snaked their way continuously uphill making my heart race and blood pump at a faster pace than normal. I took a break at the Palazzo Ducale finding a little courtyard with a magnificent view of the town spilling below and the valley beyond. There was even a little cafe where I purchased a Magnum Bar (my favorite ice cream on a stick) and enjoyed the view.
From the palace the road ascended steeply beyond the Doumo, turning into little more than a one-cart cobbled path. Finally I reached the Porta di Sant’ Ubaldo, one of the six remaining medieval gates into the town. Here the road turned to gravel and slowly wound its way through the olive groves and evergreen 
forest. As I trudged on, I was treated to a cool breeze and more awe-inspiring views of the Umbrian hills. I meet a gentleman coming down at a much fasted pace than I was going up. I greeted him with a cheery, “buona sera.” He chuckled, correcting me in Italian, “boun giono,” pointing to his watch and saying, “e nove.” “Good morning, it is only nine.” I too chuckled, winced, and realized I had greeted him at nine in the morning with a “good evening” instead of “good morning.”
Half an hour later I arrived at the Basilica standing on the mountainside overlooking the town. The Basilica has gone through several remodeling jobs over the centuries and what stands here today is from the 16th century. It is worth a look inside to see the giant “candles” (ceri) which are carried uphill during the annual festival of Corso dei Ceri. Even more interesting is the withered corpse of the local patron saint, Ubaldo, forever preserved, and on display, in a glass casket high above the alter.
I was running out of time and decided to take the little funicular down the mountain. This one-man “cable cab” is operated by the local monks and consists of a small cage just large enough for a person to stand upright in. I paid my fee, walked out to the monk and was hurried into the moving cage. In a moment I was suspended high above the hillside en-route to the town below. Once I got over the initial feeling of falling, the ride became enjoyable and a pleasant way to end my morning adventure.
In contrast to Tuscany’s amber and red tiled villages those of Umbria take on a white, almost angelic tint. Obviously it is the character of the local stone from which the buildings are constructed. As in Tuscany, Umbria’s towns are often situated on a hilltops overlooking sweeping vistas of amber grain filled valleys, framed by distant hills covered in olives and evergreens. The setting is “classic” Italian hilltown! However, the biggest contrast between Tuscany and Umbria is in its tourism. While the towns of Tuscany are loaded with tourists day in and day out, those of Umbria lazily sit in their simple existence inviting the savvy traveler to come explore!
