by David McGuffin | Aug 1, 2008 | Experiencing Europe
European customs, eating and drinking habits, and the general way of life differs greatly from those we have in North America. Diving into “their” way of life is challenging, yet essential to having a true and authentic travel experience. My travel philosophy has always involved “fitting in” and becoming temporary “locals” at our tour destinations. On my tours, that’s what we try to do… fit in and join the fun. Sometimes this means doing without ice in your cola and liking it, or maybe it means paying for your dinner bill with cash instead of a credit card. For me, it’s all part of the experience of becoming a temporary local by learning the culture, customs, habits, and EXPERIENCING EUROPE! In this series, I hope to address some of these cultural differences and suggest how to deal with them and enjoy the experience.
My first post in this series is titled “ICE? Usually None but if you ask it’s One” and will appear on August 4, 2008.
by David McGuffin | Jun 18, 2008 | Destinations, Experiencing Europe
Recently I’ve been writing about my travel experiences in Venice and the “slow life” of staying on the Lido. I’ve got another experience to share that only happens when all the right elements fall into place. Somehow I’ve got a knack to stumbling into these situations. For me it takes going out on a limb and getting out of my “comfort zone,” but when it happens, it is magical.I made it to the island of Burano by about 4:30 p.m.
This island is the way out toward the place where the Venice lagoon empties into the Adriatic Sea. Burano is a fishing village and is most famous for finely handmade lace. At first glance it seemed the island survives only on tourism, but as I was about to find out, there is a lot more culture here than meets the eye. From the boat dock I walked up the “main drag” and found my tour group right where I expected them…at the first bar in sight. Now don’t misunderstand me here, hanging out at a bar is not a bad thing, so I decided to join them for a few minutes. By 5:00 the whole area was shutting down. The bar was handing out tabs which is highly unusual for Italy. I asked our waiter, “what was up?” and he said most tourist take the 5:20 boat back to Venice and there is no tourist business to speak of after that time. The restaurants in the area only serve lunch and are closed for dinner.
My group decided to return to Piazza San Marco for some shopping and more of Venice. I decided to hang around a while longer and checkout this village. So off I went in the direction away from the boat dock. Soon I discovered an amazing array of freshly painted buildings sporting every imaginable color of a rainbow. Red, blue, orange, yellow, and green seemed to be the dominate hues. The place was charming. Had I not known better you could have been in and Irish fishing village, not one on the Venice Lagoon. Strolling here I discovered I was actually in a residential area. Lining both sides of the sidewalk (there are no cars are on the island) were open doors covered only by a thin sheet of cloth flapping in the breeze and surrounded by pots of flowers in full bloom. This lent even more color to the already beautiful scenery. Kids were out playing, riding tricycles and bikes, and just generally being kids. Soon I came to the end of the island where it dropped off into the lagoon. In the distance I could see the harbor entrance defined by jetties jutting out into the Adriatic.Turning around I walked in another direction and after a few minutes found myself in the town square. Now this was what I was looking for! It was about 6:30 and the square was alive with action. Lining both sides of the “street” were every type of shop imaginable, each with its own awning sporting its name and purpose. Every shop was filled with people looking, shopping, and making purchases. These were the local folks, they lived on the island, and each one knew the other. It was my kind of town! I sat down at a café so I could get a good view of the action, ordered a drink, and took it all in.
After a few minutes four men sat down at the table next to men ordered a drink. The waitress was a happy woman, dressed in black, with deeply dyed red hair. After getting the guys their Apelrol’s she appeared with an accordion and gave it to one of the gentlemen. Within seconds he had it cranked up and was pumping out a tune. The other fellows joined in belting out song in rich baritone voices. It did not take long for them to gather a crowd and soon other men from the community took a seat and joined in. By this time I knew I had happen upon something special for me, but not at all unusual for Burano.
I couldn’t help it so on the next song I joined in. Now I’m not too shabby of a singer and I think the guys at the next table picked up on that. They needed a tenor and evidently I was doing a pretty good job. It was fairly easy for me to hear and belt out the harmony. I found that by watching the “leaders” mouth I could even get all the vowels correctly. I just got lucky with the consonants. All songs have a form and once you know where the verses and choruses fit it is easy to follow along.
After five or six songs one of the guys ran across the street, took a jar of retrieved a jar of anchovies offered by the shop tender and return to the table. By this time I had been invited to join the “choir” at their table and we all feasted on anchovies, bread, and vino! Yummmmmy! After licking the oil off his fingers the accordion player started up again and more men sat down and joined in . It seemed this was a normal thing, these guys passing away the late afternoon in song! By now it was getting to be 7:30 or so and I began to see the men watch their watches. I don’t speak Italian very well, and certainly do not understand the Venetian dialect, but I did pick up that their wives were expecting most of them home for dinner soon and they had better wrap it up. I think we had gone through three of four liters of vino and I did not know how they were going to go home and pretend they had not “stopped off for a cocktail” after leaving the office! HA! But no, I was made to understand that was not the way it was. Waiting for them was at least a one hour dinner with more vino and a relaxing evening at home.
At precisely 8:00 the waitress arrive and pried the accordion out of Eugenio’s hand and took it to a back room of the café. Everybody got up, said their “ciao’s” and were on their way home. You can’t manufacture this type of an experience. You’ll only run across it by getting off the beaten path, out of your comfort zone, and stick with the locals. You’ll get lucky about 10% of the time!
Ciao,
David
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 | Mar 16, 2005 | Culture & Customs, Experiencing Europe
by Susan McInarnay
I was fortunate enough to visit Ireland in 2003 and absolutely fell in love with the country. I returned to the US and told one of my best friends, Karen Kelly, that I was going back one day and she was, going with me. I had no idea at the time that the opportunity would arise so soon. I knew that Karen would love Ireland as much as I did. I feel so truly blessed that I was able to enjoy this trip with her as well as be a chaperone to such a great group of students. I felt so proud to see them march and perform in the two St. Patrick’s Day Parades. What a chance of a lifetime for them and for me… to be in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day. It is the land of my heritage the land of my roots…to be there on my birthday was an added treat too. None of this would have been possible without David McGuffin. I hope that he knows and understands just how much I appreciate and cherish all of the many opportunities he has given me to travel and see the world. It is impossible not to have a good time when you travel with David. As I told David in a card as we returned to the US .. “may the sun shine brightly on your back… until we go again” and we will! God has richly blessed me with this trip and the friendships that I share with both David and Karen. I am truly thankful!
by David McGuffin | Jun 24, 2002 | David's Journal, Destinations, Experiencing Europe
Last summer, I had the opportunity to travel alone in Europe for about two weeks. Traveling alone has many advantages: I was able to make all the decisions, my decisions only affected me, I had no schedule or agenda, I was free to roam wherever I wanted to in all of Western Europe. The drawback is that I had no one I knew, with which to share my travel experiences. I made the most of my time while driving in Europe and was able to cover a lot more ground than had I been with a group. I hope you enjoy this tale.
————————————————————————-
My first thought was, “This is odd.”
Normally I would not have thought much of it, but I was in Tuscany, the land of olive oil and vino! I was traveling the back roads from Rome to Assisi on a Sunday morning and was determined to keep off the autostrada! My macchina (car) and I were one as we zipped through towns, hills, and valleys. I had rented a Renault in Paris three weeks ago, so we were pretty well acquainted.
The morning was turning into afternoon as I zipped through a small village, I noticed the local church was letting out, and the town center was filling with people rushing home to Sunday dinner. Throughout the morning, I had passed through many of these look-a-like towns which seemed to pop up every 20 kilometers or so.
The hills of Tuscany are deceiving. From a distance they appear to be rolling gently. Wide valleys are filled with alternating fields of amber grain and rich green pastures. The vineyards take over as the valley blends into the hillside. A little higher on the hills the vineyards are replaced with the silvery patina of the olive trees.
Throughout Tuscany, this pattern is repeated time and time again, arranged according to which crop will grow best at an elevation. Once you climb a hill and venture beyond the soil which will produce a crop, the hillside begins to fill with an assortment of weeds, bushes, and conifers. From a distance this adds a rich green cap to the hilltops. In the valleys the farms are each accompanied by a villa. Each villa is guarded by dual rows of very tall cedar trees leading up the driveway. The villas are constructed of golden sandstone with rich red terra cotta tile roofs, which complements the color palette of the landscape.
Just up the hill from the village, I came upon two girls standing in the shade of a tree. Their rich coffee-colored skin stood out beautifully against the brightly colored (and tightly fitting) clothing they were wearing. What were these women, so obviously out of place, doing here in the middle of nowhere?
I put it out of my mind as I continued on my journey through the hills. The next village came into view, situated far below in the valley. In a matter of minutes I was in the village center, passing the local church and heading out of town. Then, it happened again!
There standing in the shade of an old cedar, puffing patiently on a cigarette, was another one of these finely-dressed, dark-skinned women. Now this really began to catch my attention! What was going on here?
I found out about five kilometers up ahead when I encountered a whole slew of these women up and down the road as I approached the next village. These women were HOOKERS! They had migrated from Northern Africa to Tuscany where, for a fee, they will provide “entertainment” for the men-folk, presumably while the rest of the family goes to Mass or takes a Sunday afternoon siesta!
I know what you’re thinking…so I’d better get out of this while I can. Later in the day, while visiting a bar I bought a bottle of wine and shared it with a local gentleman. As he and I solved the problems of “politics and religion” he confirmed my suspicions. He said, “There are many young men, known as momma’s boys, that sneak off on a Sunday afternoon to visit the ladies on the outskirts of town.” Everyone knows it, and it is expected of the young and virile Italian boys. There is no problem!
Of course that’s a man’s viewpoint! However, it just goes to show that getting off-the-beaten-path can open your eyes to a lot more of local life than what is expected.
Travel is more than seeing the sights. Get out and explore!
by David McGuffin | Jun 21, 2002 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, David's Journal, Destinations, Experiencing Europe
At first it appeared on the horizon as a hazy mirage floating up from the sea. The bus filled with sounds of “oooos and ahhhs” followed immediately by the click-click of hastily positioned cameras trying vainly to capture the moment on film.
This scenario is played out every time I take a group to visit Mont St. Michel in western France. The medieval abbey is constructed atop a hunk of rock jutting prominently from the Atlantic Ocean. The abbey has been a religious pilgrimage site since the 6th century when the Archangel Michael told the bishop of Avranches to build a center of worship here. The abbey you see today is a Romanesque church build atop the original Carolingian structure. Saint Michael was the patron saint of many French kings. Consequently this has become a favored site of French royalty through the ages.
Just as thousands of pilgrims have done in the past, our group arrived (by air- conditioned motorcoach) to views of the Mont floating mysteriously above the coastal waters of Normandy and Brittany.
The Mudflats
Mont St. Michel is situated in a bay where the coastal tides rush in at up to twelve miles per hour. In medieval times the ocean was known to rush in at the speed of a galloping horse often sweeping away anything in its path. These tides are the most dangerous in all of Europe. Consequently, many warnings are posted and broadcast via loudspeaker when the tides are approaching..
We arrived in time to walk up the narrow winding street to the top of the Mont to watch the afternoon tides roll in. Although I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so slow as to get trapped by the approaching tides, the warnings were broadcast on a loudspeaker in six languages for all to hear. It took about 30 minutes for the tide to roll completely around the Mont. It happened quickly indeed, but not as rapidly as one would imagine after hearing the stories of trapped people and the tides.
We saw the tides come in along with the hoards of tour groups on the abbey Mont. Everyone was jockeying for a strategic position to see and photograph the tides. Accompanying this was the shout, laughter, and loud talking characteristic of most large tour groups. Once the “thrill of the event” was over, all 500 tourist decided to head back down the Mont at what seemed the same time. As we trudged down the cobbled street we passed souvenir shops loaded with tourist frantically rushing about to making their purchase before their bus left for its next destination.
What made my group’s experience different was that we traveled just 3 kilometers (about 1.5 miles) to our hotel located at the edge of the mainland. Here, from our porch, majestic Abby Mont St. Michel dominating the horizon. We had the whole afternoon and evening to relax and enjoy the essence of western France.
The one and only village shop was kept busy throughout the afternoon by members of the group purchasing snacks and goodies for the evening. You see our plan was to witness the other grand Mont St. Michel event of watching the sun gently set into the Atlantic.
At the supermarché, my daughter Jamie and I purchased drinks and Belín brand crackers. We packed it out to the low-lying pasture lands that defined the end of the mainland and the beginning of the tidal mudflats. We spent the afternoon basking in the sun, stretched out on our ponchos, sipping our drinks and crunching the crackers. There were local folks fishing in the canal, occasionally catching a fish, but mostly whiling away their time while exercising the “art of doing nothing.”
Late in the day we began to see sheep appear, apparently heading toward their home for the evening. Far in the distance we could see a shepherd and his dog encouraging the herd in the direction of the gate located just beyond our position. Finally all the “bahhhhing” ended as we saw the man and his dog pass through the gate and head towards home.
As we past through the gate which marked the beginning of the fortified Mont St. Michel for the second time this day we were treated to a different sight than that of just six hours before. Now at 9 p.m. the island was desolate! Just a few lucky tourists fortunate enough to have stayed on the island for the night. Winding our way up the crooked street we saw the village closing after another busy day. Women were sweeping their shops, there were some people eating or drinking in the local bistro, but for the most part the streets were left for us.
We arrived near the Abby doors, found a quiet spot to enjoy the sunset and waited! As usual, the sunset was beautiful, a ruby red dollop of orange melting into the deep blue sea.
After the sunset some folks in my group found a hidden stairway down to the mudflats on the west (oceanside) of the island. From my vantage point up at the Abbey I could see the kids in the group playing soccer and walking out on the muddy flats left vacant by the receding tide. The kids’ moms and I sat enjoying the view and peace of the Abbey Mont. We noticed our daughters walking way out from Mont St. Michel toward the other island about 2 kilometers to the north. Of course there was no danger because it was low tide and we could see others wandering on the flats too. But unknown to us and our daughters out on the flats, the tide had begun to return for the second time of the day.
We stood helplessly, watching the tide come in and our daughters, apparently unconcerned, making their way back toward us. We could hear their laughter and playful screams as they returned through tidal pools getting wet and muddy. But we also saw the tide rolling in. I was not too concerned, because from our vantage point I could see that they were walking much faster than tide was coming in. The problem was that it was now almost dark. The girls appeared only a shadows on the distant mudflats.
Soon a helicopter began circling the Mont and then headed out to the girls on the flats. As we watched from the safety of the Abbey walls we saw the helicopter swoop down and land near our daughters. This started our hearts racing knowing there must be imminent danger for the helicopter to land and send a person out to get our kids. But to our amazement the would be rescuer approached our girls, apparently said something to them and returned to the helicopter, then flew off toward the mainland. Our girls began heading away from the Mont toward another group of people on the flats. Once they merged with the other group we saw they were taking a route around some tidal pools and then back toward Mont St. Michel.
Mont Saint Michel with Jamie
Finally, they were within a few hundred meters of Mont St. Michel. We could hear their voices and see them covered with dingy gray mud up to their knees. Up the stairs they came, sheepishly making excuses about their adventures. They told us the helicopter guy had come to tell them about the approaching tides and to warn them of pools of quicksand located in their path. He had advised them to join the larger group, which was under the supervision of a local guide. They had joined the group but the guide spoke only French and they could not understand why he was leading them away from the direction they needed to go.
By this time it was approaching midnight. We walked in silence down the Mont and out onto the causeway which connected to the mainland. About halfway across we turned to face Mont St. Michel. There, basking in the beauty of a full moon was the Mont adorned by the ancient abbey, its gothic spires reaching to heaven, a perfect example of man’s handiwork seeking to praise God! .
As the Christian pilgrims have done for centuries I too offered a prayer that night thanking God for protecting my kids “explorations” on the mudflats!
