Because planning a wedding and a giant vacation is too much work at one time, Matt and I waited six months to go on our honeymoon. We flew to Rome via Paris, took a week-long Mediterranean cruise (which took us to Africa for the first time, and introduced us to a group of really great people), then got a car and visited Brussels, London, and Paris. It was a two-and-a-half week adventure that left us exhausted and thrilled to have seen so many amazing things.

(The entire photoset is on Flickr.)

Read from the beginning below, or jump to each day:

• 5/2-3: Minneapolis to Paris to Rome
• 5/4: Rome, boarding the Eurodam
• 5/5: Cinque Terre
• 5/6: Monte Carlo
• 5/7: Barcelona
• 5/8: Day at Sea
• 5/9: Tunisia
• 5/10: Palermo
• 5/11: Rome
• 5/12: Rome to Paris to Brussels
• 5/13: Brussels
• 5/14: Brussels to London
• 5/15: London
• 5/16: London
• 5/17: London to Paris
• 5/18: Paris
• 5/19: Paris to Minneapolis

Matt’s parents came to visit us before we left for vacation, so we had a fun night with them before it was time for them to take us to the airport on Wednesday afternoon. I ran out of work frantically around noon, leaving Joe to figure out my job. We packed the last of our stuff and re-weighed the bags, since they had to be under 44 pounds on the EasyJet leg of our flights.

My parents stopped over briefly to wish us a good trip, and then it was time to go. We threw everything in the car, and stopped at Ryan and Chris’ along the way to drop off some food and a baby sweater, because she was being induced that weekend!

Security was easy thanks to the frequent traveler line; I had even managed to get my backpack in my (gigantic) suitcase, so my only carry-on was my purse. We found the G concourse completely remodeled and fancy, and you can even buy beer at the kiosks now! We grabbed a few snacks for the trip, then went to the Mill City Tavern. We had time to kill, and they were serving classic cocktails in the airport. While we sat there, ESPN announced that Junior Seau had died.

We boarded our flight early and were seated in Economy Comfort seats. For $60/seat, we had extra legroom, leaning-back room, and free drinks for the trip. Totally worth it, especially when we’d only paid $420 total for the tickets. I ordered a gin and Fresca, which I would not really recommend to anyone.

The plane took off, and we searched for a movie to watch. We started Columbiana, timing it so we could watch at the same time. The video and sound kept cutting out, to the point it was nearly impossible to watch. They rebooted the system, but that didn’t help much either. We finished it anyway.

I was served a vegetarian meal and a gin and tonic, and did the sudoku that came with my dinner.

After dinner, they lowered the lights and we tried to sleep with about 5.5 hours left in the flight. Matt spend the entire time listening to Frank Turner and old episodes of his podcast. I kept dozing off and then waking up from sounds around us. I gave up trying to sleep with about a hour and a half left, and took the Italian language lessons on my television. I dozed some more, and the sun started coming up halfway over the UK.

They served us breakfast with about an hour left. We landed early at Charles De Gaulle, around 7am. It was very, very foggy in Paris.

We got off the plane, used our first stinky French bathroom, and waited for our bags. I got 200 euros from the ATM, and then we looked for the bus to Orly. I asked the information desk while Matt got cash, and we were on our way to the bus stop.

We weren’t prepared for how cold it was in Paris. I was in a tshirt and capris, so I opened my suitcase and got out a hoodie. The bus arrived after 20 minutes or so, and we got on with about 15 other people. We made a stop at the other terminal, left the airport grounds, and immediately found ourselves in Paris traffic at 8am.

The bus practically crawled to Orly. And though it was a gigantic bus on the order of the Greyhound, that didn’t stop the driver from doing things like exiting into neighborhoods, taking side streets, and hopping back on the highway to skip three cars. We knew it was at least an hour-long ride, so the extra slowness didn’t make it that much worse. We had intentionally scheduled a flight that gave us plenty of time for delays.

It was our first time in France, so we stared out the window looking for notable signs, such as crowds of people in berets carrying baguettes. We didn’t see that, but we did see a Citroen factory. (The first store we saw from the highway was IKEA, actually.) Also, we noticed that every surface along the way was covered in graffiti.

We got to Orly 90 minutes later, and followed the EasyJet signs to the basement of the terminal. We checked in with a friendly gate agent, and were relieved that our suitcases came in under 20kg. (Delta and most other airlines allow 50lb, so the 44lb limit for the first half of our vacation was a big challenge. The luggage scale was a lifesaver.)

We headed up to the concourse to find some food and kill time between flights. The store we stopped into had nothing vegetarian except salad, but I was fine with that. I got that and water, and Matt got a sandwich. We found a little table to eat at, and attempted to find some wifi to let people know we’d arrived. There were a bunch of networks, but none of them were free. (We would soon learn that was the case throughout most of Europe.)

We still had some time, so we went to a cafe and got beers. It was 10:45 in the morning, but our sleep-deprived brains thought it was almost 4am. While we sat there, we noticed a few people carrying baguettes around, even as carry-ons (our favorite was a guy in a Derrick Rose jersey). THE STEREOTYPE WAS TRUE!!

There were police in fatigues walking around with machine guns, which was unnerving. We noticed that French people barely seemed to notice people around them, too. Just like Minnesota!

We went through security, which was nowhere near as thorough as in the US, then headed to our gate. We sat there for a few minutes, and when the gate agents arrived, people started standing and lining up. The agents set up two signs, one for Speedy Boarding (where you can pay $79/person to board first and get your pick of the seats) and the other one for those of us who chose to take our chances with the rabble. It was still an hour before takeoff, but apparently queuing up was the thing to do. (This is #2 on the list of things we’d soon find out was consistently true in Europe.)

We finally boarded, and noticed that the exit row was open. The flight attendant had said we could sit anywhere, so we decided to take it. They came around and asked us to put our bags in the overhead for that row, but otherwise it was fine. (We were nowhere near functional enough to want to do anything on the flight anyway.) A very fidgety lady came and set next to me, and I started to nod off right after we were in the air.

I had been worried that EasyJet would be on the order of RyanAir, which I’d read many horror stories about. It ended up being really awesome, even on a full flight. You just have to make sure to get there early and make sure your bags fit their standards (they’re strict about the size of roller bags as carry-ons, and luggage weight). They charge for pop and snacks on the plane, but that’s more than made up for by the price; they’re way cheaper than the other options. Our flight from Paris to Rome was $150RT.

Halfway to Rome, the pilot pointed out the Costa Concordia laying on its side next to the island where it had run aground. Shortly before landing, the flight attendants came around selling tickets for the bus to Rome, so we bought a couple. (Having taken both the bus and Leonardo Express train, I would recommend the train… it’s way faster. But we didn’t know that yet.) We picked up our bags, then rolled out to the very full bus and got on. It took about an hour to get to Rome, and they dropped people off near the Vatican first before heading to Roma Termini. It was slow, but we got to see a lot of the city along the way, and would recognize things again later.

The bus pulled up next to Termini (the main train station in Rome), and everyone on the bus seemed very confused about what was going on; the bus driver didn’t announce it, so nobody knew we were there. We figured it was the place, so we got off and picked up our bags from the driver.

We crossed the street, stopped to look at the map with our hotel on it, and headed off that direction. The cobblestones weren’t great, but we only had about five blocks to go. Rome was much warmer than Paris, too, so we were at least dressed appropriately for that.

We found Hotel Cambridge, and had to haul our suitcases up a half-flight of stairs to get to the lobby. Our room was small and not at all fancy, but it was clean, and that’s all we cared about. We unpacked a little for the short time we were staying, then laid down to nap. It was 4pm in Rome, or 9am our time.

After the best hour-and-a-half nap of our lives, we got up and went to go see some of Rome. The hotel advertised free wifi, so we went to get the password from the front desk. While we were waiting, we watched a couple of guys kneeling on the floor of the lobby with a tiny black and white TV in a plastic bag, testing to see if it worked. From there, we headed back toward Roma Termini so we could walk through the station and know what to expect the next day when we were taking the train to Civitavecchia.

We’d seen Bourdain’s show about Rome recently, and he couldn’t say enough bad things about Termini. Personally, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. The place is awesome, and I loved it immediately.

We walked through the station and headed toward Trevi Fountain. I had a map I’d printed off the internet, since we knew we probably couldn’t rely on our phones for directions. Roman streets were as confusing as expected, but we followed landmarks and finally found a plaza with a fountain we thought might be it. It turned out to be the Fontana Dei Dioscure instead, but that was alright. We were wandering around Rome on the longest day of our lives, and no matter what we saw, it was exciting.

We found a scary-looking alley that ended up being one of the many staircases all over Rome. It had a drinking fountain near the bottom; they were everywhere, too. (It’s very convenient when it’s warm. We needed them.)

We found Il Vittoriano, which was GIGANTIC. On the way there, we passed several sidewalk restaurants, and the majority of people sitting there were drinking negronis. At that point, we knew that’s what we needed: food and negronis on a patio in Rome. That seemed perfect.

We passed one end of the Pantheon on the way back, and stopped to take pictures. Then we went to a place we’d seen along the way called Rockodile, and the specials met our approval (they were typically Italian, and they had a vegetarian dish). We got a table out front, ordered Negronis, and it was indeed perfect. (Rockodile was very interesting, too… they had traditional food and drinks, and also bro-bar-style shots and a dance floor.)

I ordered the vegetable risotto, and Matt ordered carbonara. The server ended up bringing him vegetable lasagna instead, and apologized that she had screwed up his order of meat lasagna. He hadn’t order that at all, but he didn’t care because it was awesome. Plus she said she was going to bring us grappa shots to make up for it. We ordered a couple more negronis as well, which she brought right away without the grappa.

We finished dinner and were sitting with our drinks, wondering if she’d forgotten the shots. Suddenly they appeared, and we were especially happy to be in Rome right then. We went in to pay our tab, used their bathrooms, and headed back in the direction of our hotel.

We headed down Via Nazionale, which is a huge street lined with fancy stores and souvenir shops. We wanted to find a liquor store where we could pick up prosecco to bring with us on the cruise ship the next day, so we walked down a side street and found a combination liquor, sandwich, coffee, and gelato store. (Places like that are called ‘bars’, and they’re everywhere in Rome.) We decided to get negronis since we were there, so we ordered them at the bar, and the server said we could get a table outside and he would bring them to us. He brought them out in wine glasses with fancy garnishes, and we sat there watching traffic go by and being very happy about Rome. It seemed like a really great city to just hang out in.

A very persistent Senegalese guy came by and tried to sell us the last of the wood carvings he had, but we finally convinced him we weren’t buying. Another guy came by later with the same exact carvings and did the same thing, too. We went into the liquor store side and bought a couple of bottles of Prosecco and to-go beers, then headed toward Termini, so we could cut through on the way to the hotel.

By the time we got there, we decided that another negroni was a GREAT idea. Termini conveniently has a bar right inside the door, so we stopped there and ordered. The guy said they were out of Campari (gasp!), so Matt ordered Fernet instead, before I even had time to react. We were still carrying the beers we were drinking, so then we ended up juggling our bag of prosecco, beer bottles, and shots of Fernet in tiny paper espresso cups.

And that’s how we ended up sitting on the floor of the train station on our first night in Rome, doing shots of Fernet. Welcome to Europe!

We woke early on Friday to the sounds of a street market going on right outside our window. We got up, showered and repacked, and headed to the lobby, where they were serving free breakfast. There were three girls behind a bar there, making coffee and serving food. It was my favorite kind of European meal: various kinds of bread, cheese, jam, and coffee.

We headed out to see more of Rome before it was time to catch the train. We walked through the market, where you could buy anything you wanted: produce, bread, and even underpants.

We stopped into a Tabac shop to get a couple postcards and stamps, then went over to Termini to see if our train was on the board, but they only listed departures for the next 45 minutes or so. We walked over to the Roman Museum and Diocletian Baths, which were nearby. The gardens of the museum were open to the public.

We met our first Roman cat there. Later he would get in a standoff with a gigantic crow-like bird.

 

There were a couple women sitting on a bench near the baths, so we walked in and wandered around the grounds. On the way back, there was a chain barrier across the entrance. Apparently we weren’t supposed to go in there, but nobody seemed to care much.

We went to a cafe a block away that had huge cases of amazing pastries and a coffee counter. We ordered and had to go pay at the cashier, who asked if we were standing. (It’s cheaper if you stand.) We followed the lead of a guy standing at the counter: hang out for five minutes or so drinking your coffee, then move on. Even the cappuccinos came in tiny cups like espresso, and they were delicious. (We quickly became fans of this coffee system; it’s way better than the way it works at American coffee shops. We did notice that the guy making coffee gave them to us in to-go cups, as opposed to ceramic like the locals.)

We went to do some wandering around the neighborhood, and confirmed that it was definitely a great city for roaming. We circled a few blocks, then headed back in the direction of our hotel to check out.

We rolled our suitcases to Termini, checked the boards for our train again, and went to go kill some time. We had no idea how early we had to be there, but we were glad to have pre-purchased tickets. (First class tickets were on sale when I bought them, and were way cheaper than 2nd class.) We went to Chef Express and grabbed a couple of Heinekens. At the counter, I discovered something called Pocket Espresso to Go, which is basically the greatest invention ever. I got one of those too.

After hanging out in the cafe for a while, we wandered around looking for a post office box to drop the postcards in, and then went to look for our train again. There was no sign of a train to Civitavecchia at that time, but after examining our tickets for a while we found the train number and matched it with one that was going to Genoa. The second that its track number appeared on the board, a huge mass of people headed that way. I’m pretty sure it must be like that for every cruise departure day.

The train arrived, and we had to roll all the way down to the far end to get in the first car. We hauled the bags on board clumsily, and were met by a porter who was checking tickets and hoisting suitcases up into the overhead compartments. Matt tipped him and he pointed out our seats, but they were the wrong ones. A couple of guys had bags in our actual seats, so they cleared them out and we sat down. More people started boarding, and mass seating confusion ensued. The guys behind us moved their seats and bags twice, and finally everyone was settled.

Another porter came by demanding money for the bags. We were unaware of any cost for that, so I asked how much. He said, “Ten euros. Two people, five euros.” I pulled out a twenty and handed it to him. He rolled his eyes back so far in his head I thought they would stick, and pulled out a wad of cash to give me change with massive exasperation. It was HILARIOUS.

After he moved on, we asked the guys near us if they had been charged for bags. We suspected it was a scam, but had no idea. They were wearing official-looking jackets, but there was no indication that they worked for Trenitalia. (On successive train rides, we never saw porters again. I suspect that’s some kind of semi-sanctioned cottage industry.)

The train headed out, and passed Vatican City again. We were quickly out in the country, headed toward the coast. It was gorgeous.

Halfway through our ride, a guy came to say hi. He was one of the people I’d talked to on the Cruise Critic message boards, and knew he would be in the same train car. He was from Texas, loud, and really entertaining. We compared notes on our arrivals in Italy; over the course of our cruise, it became clear that we were the only people who had an easy trip there. Despite having the longest day of our lives, of course.

We arrived in Civitavecchia around 12:30, and everyone piled off the train (unsurprisingly, no one in first class was going on to Genoa… they were all headed to cruises). For the first of many times, we got to experience the joy of hauling luggage on train platforms in Italy: lug the bags down two flights of stairs to the underground tunnel, roll them a short ways, then haul them back up two flights of stairs. I had a gigantic hard-sided bag that was too heavy for me to lift fully, so there was a lot of bumping involved.

We had street directions to the port, but it was easiest to just follow the crowd. We rolled en masse the five or so blocks to the port entrance (apparently some people take taxis… that’s ridiculous). There were shuttle buses lined up just inside the gates for the five or so ships that were docked there. People were disembarking and arriving at the same time, so a bus would empty and then reload and head out right away. We found our ship’s bus, threw our bags on, and got on to ride to the ship.

We were intentionally very early (it was about 1:15, and the ship left at 7). What we’d discovered on previous cruises is that the first day in port is the best time to wander around and see the whole ship, have some cocktails, and chill. Check-in went very quickly, and then we went through security and boarded.

Our travel agent at Delta Vacations had noted on our account that it was our honeymoon, and we would be happy to get an upgrade if possible. They did very well for us: we had the same class of balcony cabin that we’d booked, but it was on the top deck at the back of the ship. That meant that the balcony was slightly larger, and we had a way more awesome view. We were thrilled.

We unpacked our carry-ons (the luggage would be delivered later), checked out the cabin, and then set off to tour the ship. Our first stop was just upstairs on the Lido Deck, where we took care of the most important business first: cocktails on the pool deck. (From our bartender, Bong.)

We started with the very top of the ship, circling our way down deck by deck, stopping for drinks when we were empty. We checked out the ping pong tables and basketball court, and the super-fancy cabanas that cost a ton of money.

 

The Crow’s Nest was the big lounge in the front of the ship, where we’d end up spending a lot of time. They had recliners, even! That’s where the game room was, too.

We stopped at the burger grill on the Lido deck for lunch. Matt noticed their collection of weird Dutch sausages, and vowed to try one later. I was happy they had a veggie burger. The server from the bar there asked if we were interested in signing up for either the pub crawl or their mixology classes. Two of the classes were during port time, but one of them was on the sea day and looked interesting. We told him we’d pass on signing up for now, especially since we could easily do our own pub crawl.

After wandering for a while, we ended up at the Ocean Bar on one of the lower decks, and ordered fancy cocktails. The bartenders once again asked about the pub crawl and mixology classes. (They clearly got some kind of incentive for signups, because we were asked CONSTANTLY.) We decided to sign up for the Asian-themed mixology class, but passed on the pub crawl again.

The disco was awesome, and of course we ended up spending a ton of time there over the cruise. We walked through the casino, and I was very excited that they had a craps table. Having toured the whole ship, we decided to go back to the room and see if our suitcases had arrived. They had, so we got to unpacking.

Shortly after that, it was time for the muster drill. It’s no longer a requirement to bring life jackets (people were prone to tripping on the straps while going upstairs), so it’s just a matter of gathering in the right place. They lined us up and took roll call, which took a long time. They radioed in the people that were missing to the bridge, and they made announcements about those people over the loudspeaker. It was serious business in the post-Concordia era: if you didn’t show up to the muster drill, you’d be kicked off the cruise.

Finally we were set free around 5:30, and we headed upstairs to the Cruise Critic meet-and-greet. It took us a while to get there since everyone was waiting for the elevators, so we arrived after it was mostly full. We got cocktails at the bar, then grabbed our nametags. A server circulated with free champagne, so we took advantage of that too.

One of the CC guys did an announcement about casino-related events with the casino manager, and they did a contest for prizes. After that, we hung out talking for a while. We met a couple from Madison, Wisconsin, who we’d end up running into several times over the course of the cruise. We also met the couple who had organized the Meet and Greet, and ran into the guy from Texas again. We stayed there for quite a while listening to Texas Jim’s stories (I still have no idea how much of it was true, but it was hilarious), then headed back to our room to sit on our patio with champagne for the sail-away from Civitavecchia.

 

We sat and watched them preparing the ship to leave. It sailed around 7:30, and then the MSC ship behind us left immediately after. Once we were out to sea, we went down to put our names on the dinner list. (We had ‘as you wish’ dining, which means you can stop by anytime and potentially have to wait. It worked out very well, and we rarely had to wait long to be seated. We always had a table to ourselves, too.)

We went to the Explorers Lounge to get a coffee drink (or if you’re Matt, Jameson on the rocks), and our dinner buzzer went off shortly thereafter. We got a table and had an excellent dinner. In general, the food quality on Holland America seemed quite a bit better than on other lines we’d been on, which was saying a lot. They had a fully vegetarian menu, too.

Happy hour in Northern Lights (the club) was from 10-11, so we headed there after dinner. It was almost empty when we arrived, so we got seats at the bar. The happy hour deal was the second drink for $1, which for the first few days meant that you both ordered the same thing and it was cheap. Later in the cruise, that meant that you got two drinks yourself. It evolved!

DJ Stylez started playing around 10:30, and we were of course Party Rocked almost immediately. There was a guy sitting at the end of the bar slamming 2-for-1 Coors Lights, rapping to himself. We heard Lady Gaga and Waka Waka, so it was basically everything I wanted in a cruise ship club. We had a couple Mai Tais while we sat there, then decided it was time for bed. We got a to-go Manhattan and headed to the cabin for the night.

Waking at 8am was painful. I had a very hard time sleeping, because I was paranoid about the fact that I’d gotten seasick on the previous cruise, and because the movement was different due to our cabin location: we were rocking head to toe, rather than side to side. Because we were right over the engine/propeller, too, there was a weird vibration.

We showered and went upstairs for breakfast. The ship was in code red for the first two days, meaning that you couldn’t serve yourself at the buffet; they had servers instead. (That seems to be a standard safety measure to help ensure there’s no foodborne illness on the ship.) I had gruel (swiss-style muesli: my favorite!), coffee, bread and cheese. Matt had pancakes and bacon. We went to get on a tender boat around 9:15, and boarded right away. At the dock in La Spezia, we overheard someone giving directions to the train station, so we figured out what she was referring to on the map and headed that way.

It looked to be a good distance away, and it was. We weren’t positive we were going the right direction a couple of times, but there was a pair of guys from our ship walking purposefully in that direction, so we felt like we were probably headed the right way. We finally saw the train station up on a hill, so we climbed the stairs and went to the ticket office. There was a train to Cinque Terre on the tracks, but we were too late to board it; the lady told us the next one was in 40 minutes. We bought a train pass and decided to go get coffee while we waited.

We went back down the stairs and headed back toward the main street in La Spezia. Passing other people from our ship, we could see the panic on their faces as they noticed us going the other direction. I considered reassuring them that the train station was indeed straight ahead, but it was pretty funny not to.

We stopped into a cafe that advertised they were a Juventus bar, and ordered espressos. We weren’t sure if it was OK to grab a table based on what we paid, but we played the tourist card and sat anyway to look at the map and train timetables. We then headed back to the train station and went to wait by the track where it was arriving. We noticed people stamping their cards in the validation machine, so we did the same.

The train arrived, or at least we thought it was the correct train. Everyone stood around looking confused and asking questions. We finally decided it was right and boarded. We ended up in a car with an incredibly annoying Mormon guy who was talking about Jesus with a couple he’d just met, and his large very flamboyantly stupid family.

We had decided the way to do Cinque Terre would be to ride to the last of the five towns, Monterosso, and then work our way back. We needed to leave time for the Via dell’Amore and catching the train back to La Spezia, so we worked our timing out backwards according to the train schedule. We arrived in Monterosso in about 20 minutes, and hopped off. We crossed the tracks and went down to the main street in town, which ran along the ocean.

It was unfortunately overcast that day, but it was obvious how amazing the towns were regardless. We walked down to the far end of the main street to get down to the beach.

We touched the Mediterranean for the first time ever, and picked up a few pieces of beach glass.

The Monterosso giant overlooked the town and the beach. He’s seen better days.

 

We wandered around in a neighborhood, then back out to the main street and down to the other end of the beach. It must be insane there in the summer. The beach was lined with little changing rooms people can rent.

We went back up to the train station and took the next train to Vernazza. It had suffered the worst in the mudslides that hit Cinque Terre the previous year, and had only just reopened to tourism within the past few weeks.

There were still signs of damage everywhere: mud on the sides of buildings, creeks running down the street, and a beach full of dirt and construction equipment. It was still incredibly charming, though.

We decided to get lunch at a pizza place right by the port. We got a table on the patio, and ordered beer and pizza. Despite having to eat it with a way-too-blunt knife (this would also become a trend), it was excellent.

We stood in line forever to use the single squatting toilet in the restaurant, then headed back up to the train station. We saw more damage along the way.

We figured we wouldn’t have time to see all five towns, so we skipped Cornelia. (This executive decision was based on the fact that the town was a 317-step climb from the train station.) We got off a double-decker train in Manarola and headed directly to the Via dell’Amore.

We paid our admission and headed off on the Lovers’ Walk. We had come prepared with a lock with our names and wedding date on it. The tradition is to secure the lock to a fence somewhere along the walk, and throw the key into the sea.

A little way down, we found a very nice spot. It was far less covered in locks than the areas closer to Riomaggiore. Plus it was on an actual fence, and the olive grove behind it was full of poppies. I liked it.

 

We took the keys with us, since there was no place to throw them. Further down the walk, we encountered the fences that were completely packed full of locks. There was an overlook there, so Matt threw the keys into the ocean. Now we’re stuck with each other!

 

Our cruise had originally been scheduled to dock in Portofino, but had to change because of Italian port regulations. I’m not at all sad that we got to visit Cinque Terre instead! It’s gorgeous.

There’s a tunnel along the way where people have written their love for each other and everything else on the walls. Some of them are awesome.

We reached the other end after 20 minutes or so. The exit led us to the train station at Riomaggiore.

We still had some time before needing to head back to La Spezia, so we took the tunnel into Riomaggiore.

We stopped into a souvenir shop to pick up a few things, then went across the street to a bar advertising happy hour. We ordered a couple of Negronis (which ended up being Campari spritzers, but whatever), and the server brought us a massive array of snacks as well. We hung out for a while, took advantage of their sit-down bathroom facilities, watched Italian battle raps on TV, and then headed back toward the train station.

We arrived back in La Spezia around 3pm, and headed back in the direction of port. All the shops that had been hopping that morning were already mostly shut down; I’m pretty sure businesses there aren’t really open on the weekend unless there are tourists in town.

Having spent more than a day in Italy, we decided that everyone in the country smokes and owns a small dog. Seriously, they’re everywhere.

The tender boats were still running for another half hour or so, but we were definitely toward the tail end of people leaving La Spezia. We got right on a boat and rode back to the ship. After reboarding, we stopped at the front desk to get my room card fixed, because it had been demagnetized. (After doing this three times over the cruise, I finally realized that it was the huge magnets holding my purse closed that was doing it, not my phone.) While we were waiting in line, we read in the news roundup that MCA had passed away.

We dropped our stuff off at the cabin and headed to Explorations Cafe to play canasta (which I won, because I’m so awesome). We took advantage of happy hour there, then went up to the Lido deck when it was time for the ship to leave. We left a little late, around 5:30pm. On the way out of port, we passed a bunch of oyster and mussel beds in the harbor.

After we were out to sea, we went back to the cabin to change into formal clothes. We found the first of our awesome towel animals there waiting for us!

We went up to the Silk Den for awesome cocktails, and met the bartender Lawrence who really, really wanted to sign us up for things. We told him we’d think about the pub crawl, and he said he would put our names down just in case, with no commitment. We were actually becoming convinced at that point, because it was $20 and included four drinks, which is a really great deal on a cruise.

After that, we headed down to the theater to take part in the champagne toast with the captain. We got our champagne and took seats to watch the crew introductions. After that, we stayed for the nightclub-themed musical, which was cheesily entertaining. We then headed to the dining room to put our names in for dinner. The host gave us a buzzer and said very apologetically that it would be 45 minutes, but our table was ready within five.

We were led to a table upstairs along the railing. The dining room was decked out in extra-fancy fashion, and photographers were roaming around taking photos of everyone. We ordered Manhattans, and my dinner was fruit soup, salad, and brown butter squash fusilli. Matt had crab legs. We ordered coffee, but no dessert. (There’s rarely room for dessert, no matter how careful you are about eating.) Our waiter insisted on bringing us cake and singing, so we finally told him he could sing if he didn’t bring cake. He brought a friend over and they serenaded us, and he said it was an Indonesian song wishing us a long life.

A few drinks in, and Matt was making plans for meeting the captain. On a previous cruise, we’d learned how to greet the captain in Italian (“buena sera, commandante!”), but this captain was Dutch. Matt decided on “stille nacht, commandate!” He then started listing off things that Kenny G and Jay-Z had in common. The people at the next table over were not entertained by our attempts to not fall off our chairs laughing.

After dinner, we headed to the piano bar. It was packed, so we went to the sports bar at the casino instead. I found a drink menu I hadn’t seen before (in German), and it had an old fashioned on the menu. I ordered that, and we sat watching sports (which is sad when you have a 7-hour time difference from the US…we were hoping to see the Kentucky Derby, but they didn’t know what it was when we inquired about it), and marveling at the old guy across the bar, who we were pretty sure was actually the most interesting man in the world. From there we went to the club, since it was again happy hour there. There we saw a dude who looked very much like Leonardo diCaprio (we’d see him pretty much every night thereafter), and his crew of friends.

Again, we got some to-go Manhattans for the cabin, and headed back for the night. We filled out the room service breakfast order for the next morning, and watched some cruise ship TV before bed.

We got up at 8:30 and had breakfast delivered. We ate it on the patio overlooking Monte Carlo. It was rainy, but our balcony was totally protected. We headed downstairs to get on a boat; we had to tender again because there was another ship in port. The waves were pretty high, so we bounced all over the place on the way there.

We walked out of the dock area and headed up the stairs along the coast, which led up to the oceanographic museum. There was a great view of the port and city from the hill.

The rain stopped about half an hour later, and the sun started to peek out on and off.

 

Around the back, there were more stairs leading up to the back of the aquarium building. From there we had to take two sets of escalators, and finally reached the plaza at the top. There we found the tourist train waiting, so we went to get tickets. I’d seen it described as the best entertainment that could be had cheaply in Monaco, and that ended up being true. Tickets were only 6 euros apiece.

We boarded the train and set off on a loop around the city. It headed downhill from the aquarium and onto the famous Grand Prix route. It was only a few weeks away, so the barriers, signs, and stands were mostly constructed at that point. We were really excited about that!

We circled the city on the train, which took us to all the major sights. We decided not to get off, and just figure out where things were so we could walk there later. From the casino, we went through the Grand Prix tunnel and headed back up the hill to Monaco-ville and the Palace. A half-hour later we were back at the oceanographic museum, so we hopped off to walk around.

Monaco-ville is the older part of the city, on top of the hill with the palace. It’s crowded, with narrow alleys and little shops everywhere. There were huge groups of Italians wandering around there from the Costa ship in port.

The flag was flying at the palace, which meant that the prince was home.

From the left side of the palace, you look down onto the other side of Monte Carlo, with Nice right beyond it.

We stopped to use the bathroom, which had a way-too-long line at the women’s room. There were three stalls, but one was handicapped and the attendant really did not want to let anyone in there. She also refused to acknowledge anyone who wouldn’t tip her for a towel (most bathrooms were like that in Italy/France… if there was an attendant, you’d give them a coin and they’d give you a towel to wash your hands after using the restroom). Finally the women in line were so disgruntled that she opened the other stall, and I was the first to use it. I soon discovered why she didn’t want to let people in there… there was a separate sink supplied with towels inside.

 

We did some souvenir shopping near the palace, then went to head down the giant hill into the city. I was glad we hadn’t climbed up that way.

We walked through the little farmers market at the bottom and found our way back down to the Grand Prix route we’d driven on in the tourist train. We headed up the hill in the direction of the casino, following the harbor the whole way. The yachts in port were amazing.

It was Sunday so most of the businesses along the way were closed, except for a few restaurants. It was a different story near the casino, though. That’s where we found a huge crowd of tourists standing around gawking at cars out front.

(I confess that we did the same. Monte Carlo was every bit as over-the-top as I wanted it to be.)

The casino wasn’t open yet, so we went to the cafe next door, at the Cafe de Paris casino. (I love that there’s a casino named after a restaurant.) We got a table outdoors on the huge patio, and our timing was perfect: the sun had just fully come out for the first time since we’d left Rome.

We had beers and lunch, and sat there enjoying the people-watching in Monte Carlo. It was mainly tourists, but it was still really fascinating. It was also the first free wifi we’d found in Europe, so we sent some pictures to the internet. Once we were done, we stopped into the souvenir shop and then circled the area around the plaza before heading back toward the casino.

The sad part of the Casino at Monte Carlo is that you can’t take pictures inside, so we just have to remember it. Admission is 10 euros, and it’s well worth it just to see what it looks like. Off the central lobby, you head into the salon area. The first room you enter is a huge parlor with the most ornate granite-topped art deco bar possible. The bartender is very, very fancy, and you feel out of place even though everyone else there is a tourist, too. We ordered cocktails, and they weren’t even as ridiculously expensive as we expected. (We’d later have drinks at the Ritz Paris that were close to three times the price.) We took our drinks to some armchairs and giggled to ourselves about hanging out in the most famous casino in the world.

After a while, we went to check out the salons. Matt was interested in blackjack, and I was looking to make some bad decisions playing craps. The tables were already pretty full, which was fine because the lowest-minimum blackjack table was 25 euros. They had 200 euro baccarat as well. That’s out of even bad decision range for us, so we wandered around some more. It turned out that there were really only eight tables or so including roulette, and we couldn’t figure out where anything else was. We finally asked at the cage, and he said the salon with craps was closed for renovation. It was probably for the best!

We went back out to the outer salon, which was full of Game King machines. We decided to do that just to have gambled there, and Matt ended up winning his entrance fee back. SUCCESS.

It was time to head back in the direction of the ship, so we went to go back down along the port the way we came. On the way we passed the Hotel De Paris, and a ton of people were standing outside taking pictures of this lady who was posing on the steps. We still have no idea who it is.

As we got down to the bottom of the hill, we found a way to cross under the Grand Prix bleachers so we could walk along the harbor. On the far side, we found our destination: Stars’n’Bars. It’s a well-known sports bar that supposedly had a cocktail lounge upstairs, so we figured we’d go kill some time before we absolutely had to be back on board.

It turns out that the upstairs was closed, so we got seats at the bar instead, right near where Mikka Haakkinnen’s car was embedded in the wall. The menu featured a drink called the Williemeister, which was obviously a red headed slut mojito (We dubbed it the slujito.) The service was incredibly slow, and the servers (who all wore fanny packs) were way more interested in talking to each other. We finally ordered a cider and a Negroni and sat watching soccer, which was pretty much the only thing going on live during the day there.

After a while, we decided to walk back to the tender dock and return to the ship, because it was getting really overcast again. We arrived about 4:45 and went to the cabin to clean up.

It was then happy hour time, so we stopped at the bar. I ordered their drink of the day, a grappa martini. We went up to get some pizza and sat out on the Lido deck watching a group of people we assumed were swingers in the hot tub. (They’re always swingers in the hot tub.)

We sailed around 6pm, so we went to the back rail to take pictures. It had gotten incredibly hazy again, so we were lucky to have been out having lunch during the only sunny part of the day.

From there we went to the Ocean Bar for happy hour, where we had the best server ever, Ronnie. He gave us a pound and served us two drinks apiece. After that, went up for a quick dinner at the buffet, where I had a cheese plate I still fantasize about regularly.

We went down to the Queen’s Lounge to play trivia, which was hosted by DJ Stylez from the club. A few of the teams were already pretty drunk, so that was amusing. We came in second by only a point, and the winning team had 6 players. It was a moral victory, at least.

Then it was time for the pub crawl. It started in the Crow’s Nest. We checked in and they gave us name badges, so that we could all be anonymous if we wanted. Matt’s was the best. (Mine was Snow Princess.)

We took a seat, and after a while they started making announcements. There were apparently around 70 people there, though everyone was too sober to start making friends yet. The guy in charge of the pub crawl was Red, the beverage manager, and it was clear right away that he was awesome. He said that there would be a drink in each bar, and it was our job to finish it before he did, or there would be a penalty (you’d get wrapped in toilet paper, and generally ridiculed). They found the youngest and oldest people in the room and give them prizes, then they handed out our first drink.

We didn’t find out til later what the drink was. It was pink and sort of mai-tai-flavored, and it was delicious. The staff harangued us to drink them up quickly so we could head on to the next bar. (We later found out the story behind the drink – the Wang Wang – and why they started us with it… it had 6 shots in it, and was stronger than a Long Island.)

We headed off to the next bar in parade formation, with Red chanting up front and us shouting in reply: “PUB!” “CRAWL!” “PUB!” “CRAWL!” The looks on the faces of the unknowing passengers we walked by was hilarious. We walked across the Lido deck and ended up at the pool bar in the back, where it was immediately clear what was happening: we were playing flip cup, and it was men versus women.

We took our spots and got going. The women were ahead halfway through, and there was one reason: we helped each other out. It took each of us a few tries to flip the cup, but someone was always waiting there to set up a new one right away. The men had to retrieve and set up their own cup, so it slowed them down.

After a flawless victory, we were all handed Coronas. I’m pretty sure that’s the only time in my life I’ve ever had a Corona. We then watched as Red challenged a passenger to a wine-drinking brain teaser of a challenge that ended up being pretty awesome.

From there, we were set off toward the elevators and told to meet on deck three at the Ocean Bar. Matt and I took the opportunity to run to the restroom, and we arrived at the Ocean Bar to find a conga line in progress. Since it was a good after-dinner spot, too, there were a bunch of REALLY confused old people trying to figure out what was going on.

They passed out mai tais for our next drink. A woman from North Carolina came up to me and excitedly asked about my chest tattoo, and I was thrilled that she knew it was James Joyce. We started talking to her and a couple people she was hanging out with, and learned that one of the couples was from Shoreview, which is only twenty or so miles from us. We met a few more people they were talking to, and we all headed down to the last bar together: the club.

When we got there, Red told us we would have to dance to earn our drink. I immediately knew what was going to happen next: the Cupid Shuffle. We almost died of hilarity. We shuffled for our drink, then filed up to the bar with everyone else. We had a choice of a tequila shot or Woo Woo, so I took the tequila shot. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t 100% sugar either.

Matt and I went to the casino to gamble. I went to the craps table and he headed toward blackjack. Craps went pretty well until a guy cleared the entire table with a horrible roll that wiped everyone out. I went to check on Matt, and he was doing well, so I went to get him a drink at the bar. Once the craps table filled up again I went to play, but had horrible luck yet again. I brought Matt another drink and headed back to the club to hang out with the group we’d met at the pub crawl. He found me there a bit later, and we headed back to the cabin to sleep.

We got up late, with hangovers as a powerful reminder of the awesomeness of the pub crawl. We had breakfast and got off the ship to go stand in line for the bus out of the port. It was hot in Barcelona, and we didn’t feel like moving very quickly at all.

The bus dropped us off at the end of La Rambla. It was totally packed, and we weren’t sure how much of that was locals and how much tourists. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, but everyone was out walking around. Just a few blocks up, we met a couple Canadians who noticed our very Minnesotan tshirts (I had on a Twins shirt, and Matt was wearing his Rubio Timberwolves tshirt). They told us the Boqueria wasn’t far away, and that we had to check it out.

One of our goals in Barcelona was to find a Ricky Rubio caganer, so we peeked into all the little shops along the way. We saw a bunch of them for FC Barcelona players, but nothing for basketball. We were determined to find it somewhere!

(Also, there were guys selling noisemakers that sounded like crying babies all along La Rambla, and the sound still haunts me to this day.)

Halfway up La Rambla, we found the Boqueria. There was a shop out front with a million kinds of meat hanging from it, so I knew it was going to be a good day for Matt.

The Boqueria was crowded and fascinating. They had every kind of food there, and everything was arranged very invitingly: spices, candy, meat, and cheese.

We stopped to get a glass of cider and watch the crepes guy, who was really entertaining.

The back of the Boqueria seemed mostly dedicated to seafood. The smell was a little overpowering.

We stopped at a booth to get a cone of Iberico ham for Matt, and manchego cheese for me. It was definitely Matt’s best day ever. Nobody has ever been so thrilled to have a cone of ham.

We headed back out onto La Rambla and kept walking. We were going in the general direction of La Sagrada Familia, with a really crappy map to guide us. It was hot and we were dehydrated, and we had to go to the bathroom really badly as well. We finally stopped into a department store named Corte Ingles, figuring they would have a public restroom. We had to ride the escalator all the way up to the 9th floor, where were found the bathrooms inside a gigantic restaurant. There was a line, but it was still worth the trip. We were kind of desperate.

We stopped to check the map, and headed north again. We found Casa Battlo not far away, then turned right to go toward La Sagrada again. It looked like it was probably still a ways from there, but it was hard to tell.

It ended up being a REALLY long way, particularly for those who are hungover, hungry, and way too hot in the sun. We stopped to look at menus at several restaurants (Matt looked, I stared blankly), and decided against all of them. Finally, after what seemed like hours on our death march, we reached the intersection near the cathedral. We turned to head the couple of blocks that direction, and passed a restaurant that advertised traditional Catalan dishes, sandwiches, pizza and pasta, and pretty much anything else you could think of. We decided that was the place, and the lady working there sat us at a table on the sidewalk. We ordered two Estrella Damms, and finally everything was ok again. Plus we were within sight of La Sagrada Familia.

We ordered food (I got a pizza, which was even better than the traditional Roman ones, because it had manchego on it… Matt got a ham ‘long sandwich’ and patatas bravas), and sat there just being glad to be not walking in Barcelona. We also noticed the incredible noise… traffic, sirens, and jackhammering from construction. It never let up.

We found free wifi while we were sitting there, so we emailed to let people know where we were. Missy texted that Ryan and Chris had baby Robinson! Matt managed to get aioli from his patatas bravas on the lens of his cameraphone, which led to the important invention of Aioligram. (Take that, Instagram)

We felt 100 times better after eating lunch, so we decided it was time to go see La Sagrada. We had pre-purchased tickets that were supposed to allow us to skip the ticket line, but we couldn’t figure out where we were supposed to go in. We finally decided we’d have to stand in the long line anyway. We were only there for a little while before one of the guys working there noticed our tickets and led us to the barcode scanner on the gate to let us in.

La Sagrada Familia was every bit as amazing and insane as we expected.

 

We toured the inside first, then went out to see the opposite facade, the one that looks like it’s melting.

After that, we went down the ramp to the basement of the building, where they had the museum and displays showing how Gaudi arrived at those designs. He was some kind of mad genius. You could also watch people working in the shop, building scale models and such.

We went to the store after that, and bought a bunch of La Sagrada souvenirs. Luckily we wouldn’t have to lug a bag around town on foot all day, because there was no possible way we were walking back to La Rambla. We headed to the metro station instead, and rode back.

We were in search of Blondie Bar, a punk-rock place that we’d read about beforehand. I had the address, but the location listed on the TripAdvisor map seemed totally wrong. (It’s an offline map, and we didn’t have internet access to look it up.) We knew the general area it was suppose to be in, though, so we started near the Boqueria and hoped to find it just by wandering.

That wasn’t working out very well. Finally, we noticed a zoomed-in map on a street sign, so we consulted that. It said the street we were searching for was actually on the other side of La Rambla, only a few blocks away. We walked over there and headed down a long pedestrian street lined with shops and restaurants. It seemed like we’d gone way too far, but we still couldn’t find it. We finally noticed another street sign map, and we had indeed passed it a while back. Apparently it wasn’t a street so much as an alley.

We walked back and finally found the alley. It was dark and narrow, and it made me a little nervous to be wandering around alleys in Barcelona. But there was nobody around, and everything was very quiet. We realized that a lot of the garage doors we were passing were actually closed shops, so that didn’t bode well for the place we were looking for. We finally found a door covered in graffiti in the right spot, and Blondie Bar was indeed closed.

We kept wandering to see what was nearby, and saw a friendly-looking pub named Schilling a couple blocks away. We went in, sat at the bar, and ordered beers. We found an English-language magazine sitting there, so we paged through looking at local restaurant listings to figure out where we should go for dinner. We picked a place called Pink Elephant, and located it on my phone map. It was a couple miles away, so we headed back toward the metro. On the way there, we passed a souvenir shop and went inside to get all our tacky souvenir needs taken care of. Our biggest score? An Obama caganer for Colleen and Steve.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the restaurant and found it closed. I don’t know if that was because it was Monday, but there wasn’t much outside the touristy areas that seemed to be open in Barcelona.

It was getting late and I was tired of wandering around finding a bunch of closed businesses. While waiting for the metro, I noticed COCKROACHES GIGANTES wandering around in the gutters. So gross. We rode back to La Rambla, and decided to swing by Blondie Bar again to see if it was open later (lots of places are closed 3-7pm). It wasn’t, so we decided to head back to the ship. I was really tired of walking.

We stopped at the statue to take a picture of Bally’s visit along the way:

The bus was waiting there, so we hopped on and rode back with only a few other people. The sun was setting as we reached the ship.

Back on the ship, we walked in to find a crowd of people standing around looking confused, and the staff rushing in all directions. We caught the second half of an announcement from the captain telling the staff not to use the elevators, because that was the ‘marshalling area’. Suddenly a bunch of people in fire gear came running through and down the stairs, and that made us more than a little nervous.

We overheard someone saying there was smoke downstairs, but nobody was running around with their lifejackets on yet, so we decided to go to the cabin and wait. We found all of the fire doors closed on our floor, and they were really difficult to open. One area smelled a little like smoke, but there were no alarms or anything. If we were going to have a ship emergency, at least we could all just run back into Barcelona. That’s way better than out at sea.

In our cabin, we found a honeymoon card from the staff waiting for us, and our bed had been decorated with rose petals!

(The thought of our cabin steward, Ishmael, strewing rose petals around the room was hilarious.) There was a plate of candy, too, and someone had bought us a bottle of champagne. There was a card saying we would know who it was from, but we’d honestly met a bunch of people, any of whom could have done it. (We still don’t know who it was!)

The captain came back on the loudspeaker to say that there was a fire in one of the trash incinerators, but that the crew had it contained and that everything should be all clear within half an hour.

We went out to the balcony and watched the sunset over Barcelona. The captain came back on again shortly and said that everything was taken care of with the fire situation.

We decided to order dinner in that night, since we were worn out from the heat, the walking, and the previous night’s entertainment. We discovered that ordering a bottle of liquor for the room is an amazingly good deal, too, so we did that. It came with a few cans of pop, and we figured we could just buy more in port as well. You’re technically not supposed to drink it outside your room, but who can tell when you’re walking around with glassware from the bar?

We sat on the couch and had our multi-course dinner and some cocktails, and it was gloriously relaxing. We watched soccer on TV, then went out to the balcony to watch as we sailed from Barcelona around 11. It was actually slightly cold, which was a nice change. We drank champagne in the shower, then caught last half of the Big Lebowski on TV. That was an excellent ending to the night.

Before we went to bed, we set the clocks back an hour for Tunisia time, even though we wouldn’t be there until Wednesday!

Tuesday was our day at sea, while we sailed across the Mediterranean toward Africa. Sea day is my favorite, because you get to do all the things on the ship you don’t have time to otherwise. (There are people who skip ports and just stay on board, but I’ve never understood that.) We had already perused the day’s schedule the previous night, and checked off everything we needed to do. Including all the happy hours, of course.

After breakfast, we went down to the shops to pick up our obligatory souvenirs, and then headed to the Lido deck to read. It was a little chilly in the shade, so we covered up with very warm beach towels. We had cocktails, and the bartender convinced me that we needed raffle tickets since they were giving away giant bottles of expensive cognac and Dom Perignon. (We didn’t win, of course.)

After a little while it was time for the ice carving demo, so we moved seats to be closer to the action. One of the chefs came out and carved a swan out of a block of ice BY HAND… they can’t use power tools in the galley, obviously. It was impressive.

From there, we went to play shuffleboard. We were pretty sure we’re the only people who played shuffleboard on the ship. While we played, we ran into a few people we knew from the pub crawl while they were out doing laps on the promenade deck.

Lunch was ridiculous: a giant salad and giant nachos. Matt had sushi and various items from the Indonesian buffet (which was extra-awesome, since most of the chefs were Indonesian and therefore it was like their home cooking). While we were there, we ran into Cruise Critic people, who stopped to talk for a while.

We then headed up to the top deck to hang out in deck chairs in the sun. It was glorious out there in the middle of the Mediterranean. I read my Kindle a bit, but mostly I was just interested in dozing in the sun.

Then it was time for the cocktail class we’d signed up for on the first day. We headed to the Silk Den, and joined eight other people in learning about their drink-making. The bartender Ramil and the ship’s party planner, Kirby, were teaching. They asked for a volunteer to make one of the cocktails, so of course Matt had to do it. When else will you get the chance to tend bar on a cruise ship?

And while we’re pretty knowledgeable about cocktail mixing, we did actually learn some things! They taught us three of their signature cocktails, and we got to sample each one in a tiny martini glass.

We stuck around talking to a Canadian couple from our class, then headed to the lounge to play Carcasonne. It was conveniently happy hour at the bar next door, so we had the drink of the day. We then tried to play Battleship, but the board had changed since we were kids and some of the pieces were missing. We played anyway, and finally some of the staff wandered in and DJ Stylez set us straight on the correct way to play. SIGH.

We followed happy hour to the Ocean Bar, where Ronnie was serving again. He told us about wang wang, which contained a half-ounce each of whiskey, rye, bourbon, vodka, gin, dark rum, brandy, juice, and grenadine. Then we went to our room to change clothes, because it was time for formal night. (Formal night seems to begin around sunset, though there’s nothing really official.)

Another important item on our sea day to-do list was trivia! We went to the Queen’s Lounge, where Ian (our port-information expert) was hosting. He was a sassy old British man, and the trivia was HARD. We barely knew any of the answers. He gave out prizes to the winning team, then consolation prizes to everyone else, so we got a couple of cute Holland America pins out of the deal. It was then time for our dinner reservations, so we went upstairs to Tamarind.

We had expected the place to be really busy on formal night, but it wasn’t at all (our reservations were fairly late, too). The restaurant was very fancy, and the food was amazing. I had veggie spring rolls, green papaya salad, sake-braised mushrooms, and five-spice seitan and tempeh. Matt had sushi, lobster potstickers, and hoisin duck. We ordered cocktails from the Silk Den next door, and Ramil brought them to us.

We were way too full for dessert, but the servers always act like it’s the worst possible crime to not order anything, so we decided to split the chocolate ginger mousse. Sweet jesus, it was amazing. I want it every day.

Post-dinner, we went down a level to meet up with our pub crawl friends in the Crow’s Nest. (A couple of them weren’t there because they were having the fancy cabana dinner; we’d later hear that they jokingly ordered 5 lobsters and ended up actually getting them for dinner.) We took some pictures with them, then all headed downstairs to the club for happy hour. The 2-for-1s were flowing there. We exchanged email addresses so we could keep in touch, and watched people dancing. (The most fascinating were the kid who thought he was Michael Jackson, and the guy dancing in a wheelchair who would occasionally get up and walk around.)

They all wanted to go to the dessert extravaganza on the Lido deck, but we were way too full for that. We stayed in the casino to gamble, and I figured that was a good excuse to not stay out too late either. Matt had convinced me to try Fun 21 (I’m suspicious of any blackjack game that doesn’t follow Vegas rules), and it was indeed fun.

We headed to the cabin around 12:30, because the next morning we would be in Africa!

We got up at 8, went to breakfast, and got off onto a new continent! I was so excited to be in Africa.

As I’d hoped, there were camels to greet us at the port. We could see them from our cabin, even.

There were also guys waiting with peregrine falcons. As much as I know I shouldn’t look interested or else it will cost me money, I can’t help it! I love birds a lot, especially when they perch on me.

We had arranged a driver for a private tour beforehand, and were supposed to meet him at 9:30. The guy who organized it said he’d be there waiting at 8:30, but I reconfirmed that we wouldn’t be there til later. We followed his hand-drawn map to the meeting point, which was outside the entrance to the port. As in many cities, there are certain cabs that are allowed to drive into the port area, and some that aren’t.

We found the spot where he was supposed to be waiting, holding a sign with our names. There were a bunch of cabs parked there, but we didn’t see anyone who had a sign or who appeared to be waiting on anyone. We stood there for a minute looking at our map and wondering if we had the right place, but I was sure that had to be correct. While we were doing that, one of the drivers came up and told us he could take us on a tour.

We explained the situation, and showed him the details we had from the tour guide. He said, “This says 8:30! He probably left!” I tried to explain that we had actually planned for later, but he was having none of it. He even called the guy’s number on his cellphone, and said that nobody was answering. I have no idea if he actually called that number or not, but it was pretty funny. He said he would take us for the same price we’d agreed on ($100, which was far cheaper than the huge ship tours). We decided to go with him, even though his impatience was pretty irritating.

He warmed up a bit in the car, and started telling us about Tunis and his plans for us. All the tours go to the same places: Carthage, Sidi Bou Said, and the Medina of Tunis (that’s exactly what we wanted to see, too, without the big crowds). They go in a certain order, so he said he’d take us to those spots in the opposite order. We were perfectly happy with that.

On the way to Tunis, you pass a giant saltwater lake. Train tracks run on a narrow piece of land between there and the city (it goes to the port, too, but you can’t take it to any of the other spots we wanted to see).

Our driver’s name was Heddy. He drove us to a big central turnaround with a clock tower in Tunis, and told us he would be there to pick us up whenever we wanted. We agreed on noon. Matt noted the cab number in case we had trouble, and our driver pointed out the way to the Medina. We were supposed to walk down the main street and keep going until we saw the main gate.

We headed off in that direction, having to dodge a ton of traffic in the circle. (The key is to wait for a local and run along with them when they cross.) We were immediately in the heart of Tunis, and it wasn’t at all what I expected. There was a huge street with a wide pedestrian boulevard down the middle. The buildings were all very modern, and the majority of them were banks. There were high-end shops, and cute restaurants with sidewalk tables. It was much more European looking than I had expected.

Along the way, we picked up a friend. An old guy started walking along with us, and asked if we were from the ship. (That part was pretty obvious.) He said he was a mechanic onboard, and that he would have to go back soon. He said to keep going straight to get to the Medina and the mosque. We thanked him, and he headed off. It was kind of strange, and we were pretty sure he wasn’t actually from the ship, but that was fine.

A block down, we made another friend. Just like the first guy, he worked as a fish chef on the ship. (I didn’t ask him which ship, since there were two in port… I didn’t want to catch him lying!) He asked where were from, and started telling us about how he was here to visit his family for a few hours. He then started in on the things that could could be found in the Medina, which were way cheaper than anywhere else in the world. Perfume in particular; did we know that Chanel #5 was made in Tunisia? I feigned interest in what he was saying, but I could see where it was going. He told us that his brother owned a perfume shop in the Medina, and he would be happy to show us.

I thanked him and said that we weren’t interested in perfume, and went back to talking to Matt. He kept walking with us, even stopping to wait while we took pictures of the city gate. We hung back and tried to lose his interest, but he was going nowhere.

From the gate, he accompanied us into the entrance to the souk. He pointed at my purse and told me to watch it, because the area was notorious for tourist pickpocketing. (I was wearing my purse strapped across my body, and had the zipper clipped closed with a carabiner, so I felt pretty prepared for that. It was crowded enough that I had to hold it clutched against me anyway.)

We knew that we shouldn’t stop and look at things unless we really, really wanted to buy them, because the shopkeepers are expert salesmen there. So we tried to keep moving, but slowly enough that maybe our friend would end up far ahead of us and we could lose him. The problem with the souk is that it’s basically one very long tunnel with occasional shady-looking side alleys. Sometimes you’re outdoors and sometimes under cover, but you can only tell based on the narrow strip of daylight you can see above the shops’ canopies. It’s very loud, very busy, and there’s a man standing at every shop saying “bonjour, madam”. Between that and the friend we couldn’t shake, we were getting a little nervous.

We came to the corner where our guide was going to turn to head down to the perfume shop. We had slowed down and were pretending not to notice him waiting there. He turned briefly to head that direction, assuming we would follow, just as a group of tourists passed between us. We immediately jumped in among them and kept going straight, rushing around to get the group in between him and us. We had no idea if he realized it and was following us, we just kept walking as fast as possible through the souk. (In retrospect, we pictured our getaway much like the souk fight scene in Indiana Jones. I’m sure it looked exactly like that.)

We finally had gone far enough that we figured he wasn’t following us anymore, so we stopped at an intersection that actually had a street sign and was out in the sunlight. We had no idea where we were at that point, so our main problem now was whether to take the route we knew led to the exit, directly back the way we came, or to try to find another way and avoid our friend. I took a picture of the street sign, figuring it might help if we found it later. RIGHT.

We had actually ended up in a calmer area, so we felt like we could relax a little. We seemed to be heading back in the right direction, so for the first time there I actually paid attention to what was in the shops. They had EVERYTHING there: clothes and purses, souvenirs, and every kind of food. The fried breads looked amazing. We walked slower and saw some things, but still didn’t go into any of the shops. I wasn’t committed to shopping in Tunisia quite yet!

We ended up near a mosque, and from there an alley that looked promising. I overheard a British couple and was about to ask them if they knew the way out, but then suddenly we were at the exit. We had survived!!

We set off to walk around elsewhere in Tunis that was not the souk, all excited about our very daring escape from the crafty fish chef who really really wanted to sell us perfume.

We walked off the main drag a few blocks, and came across the tram turnaround that was full of little shops, newspaper stands, and food carts. It was definitely less cosmopolitan than the main street, but wasn’t particularly run down in any way, and all the food smelled REALLY good. We walked through a shopping mall, mostly because I wanted to visit a Tunisian shopping mall (note: a Tunisian shopping mall is exactly like every other shopping mall on earth), then went back out to the main street. It was hot, and we needed water. We found a small restaurant whose patio wasn’t entirely full, and grabbed a table. We ordered coffee (figuring we’d get the coffee pictured on the menu, which seemed to be something between espresso and Turkish coffee) and a huge bottle of water. We also had to ask the server if they took euros, because we didn’t have Tunisian currency and the ATM nearby was broken. That took a while, because he spoke French and we did not.

The coffee was as delicious as I’d hoped, and I enjoyed being able to sit there and watch people go by and not feel harried after our market experience. Which was hilariously funny in retrospect.

It was then time to go meet Heddy, so we paid (and got dinars in exchange for our euros, which was handy) and walked the few blocks back in the direction of the clock tower. I went to cross the street in an area that looked sort of torn up before crossing over to the pedestrian walkway, and a bunch of guys in military garb started yelling “Madam!” at me and pointing. I realized that the area I was entering was surrounded by barbed wire, so that was probably not the place to go. (Heddy explained later that it was some kind of government building, and in the wake of the riots last year, that made sense.)

We found Heddy across the street waving, and went to hop in the cab. He asked how things went, and wanted to make sure we didn’t buy anything in the Medina, since he swore everything was insanely overpriced there. Haha.

We were then on our way to Carthage. It was probably 8 or so miles away, and rather than taking the highway the whole way there, he drove us through some of the new developments along the coast facing the city. It was all still part of Tunis (even Carthage and Sidi Bou Said), but just different areas.

There were hundreds of very recent new condos, most of them seemingly unoccupied as of yet. (Heddy explained that he couldn’t have afforded them, but that people like us could. We didn’t bother trying to dissuade him.) There were huge nightclubs, too, all of them with western names like Miami Beach and Mississippi Restaurant. They all had giant patios and looked kind of like a huge Champps. He said they were really popular, and it was hard to picture since the area seemed really deserted during the day. There were at least three gigantic bowling alleys, too.

He pointed out the US embassy, and then we were in Carthage. You could see bits of Roman ruins laying all over the place, with giant houses built among them. It was definitely the rich part of Tunis.

The cathedral at Carthage isn’t very old, but it’s really impressive. We went inside, and they were having a bicycle-themed art exhibit, so basically we could’ve been in Minneapolis as well.

We tried to go up the spiral stairs to see if there was a view from the top, but the door was closed. We went back out to the courtyard to use the restroom, and then Heddy pointed us toward the museum. We didn’t have a ton of time, so we didn’t bother going in. We just peered.

(The museum reminded me a lot of the one we’d wandered around in in Rome. It’s so strange to just see pieces of fancy pillars and statues laying all over the place.)

There was a good view of Tunis from the museum, too.

We got back in the cab, and he drove us around the rest of the area. We saw the new president’s house (which you’re not allowed to take pictures of), an aqueduct, and the mostly-destroyed amphitheater. There were insanely huge houses everywhere, too.

He took us to see the new mosque, which is right down the hill from the cathedral. That led to a conversation about how they don’t have a lot of trouble with religious differences in Tunisia, and everyone pretty much gets along. We had definitely noticed on the streets that there were both women in hijabs and in European dress, with varying degrees of formality.

We went down to see the old Roman harbor, which is now at the center of a suburban neighborhood.

It was then time to go to Sidi Bou Said. Heddy asked us if we wanted to get food, and we said yes. He started telling us that we’d go to the town and then he would take us to the BEST RESTAURANT EVER, down near the port. We really just wanted to get something easy in Sidi Bou Said, so we finally convinced him to do that instead. Most of the tourist-guiding activity in Tunisia, like in other places, seems to lead to being taken to the businesses of people the guide is in good with. I’m sure it’s a great arrangement.

But first, we were going to the store. We knew, of course, that we were going to be stuck buying there, but that was fine. I loved our tour, and I’m glad we weren’t dragged to the Berber rug store with the ship tour.

Heddy led the way to the shop, and we met ol’ grandpa one-tooth. He was cute and friendly, and took us upstairs to see the view from the roof of the shop. The best view in all of Sidi Bou Said, in fact! (Our pub crawl friends heard the same claim from their shop-owner, too.)

We picked out some souvenirs for people back home, and I got a little metal camel whose back opened on a hinge. We picked out the usual magnet, and also grabbed a couple of nice handpainted bowls to take home. Grandpa one-tooth grabbed an elephant that matched the camel and said it was his gift to me, because it’s a good luck charm that would ensure I would have 10 babies. (God help us.) I thanked him and knew we were going to pay a billion dollars for everything there. (It ended up being over $200, so I was close!)

Heddy seemed very pleased with our successful shopping trip. He put our bag in the trunk and led us across the street to a restaurant he recommended. We were the only people in there (it was around 2pm), and the waiter was adorable. He described their fish lunch special as a very traditional Berber dish, and Matt decided to go with that. I explained that I was vegetarian, and he said that they could make a version with vegetables. I definitely was not expecting that.

Lunch was AMAZING. We had a sort of foccaccia-like flatbread with harissa and other sides to start, and a pitcher of Tunisian beer that I wish I could describe better. It was room temperature, and very heavy on the brewing spices. It wasn’t very carbonated, either. Our tagines arrived, and Matt’s had an entire fish laying on top looking at him. (He named the fish “lunch”.)

The Tunisian version of MTV was on. We saw Justin Bieber and Pitbull, in addition to a bunch of local music. I was way too excited about that.

After our extremely awesome lunch, we got back in the car and Heddy drove us to see the beach. On the way there, I started to feel not so great, like I was getting seasick.

The beach was huge, and had a boardwalk along the way. There were cute shops, including an ice cream place that Heddy wanted to take us to. He said he wanted to buy us an ice cream, but I told him I wasn’t feeling well. He seemed very worried about that, but I explained that I have trouble with seasickness.

After the beach, we drove up a hill for a great view of the city. It was really impressive. Heddy pointed out the special service that we were getting on our tour, how he took us to all the best spots. It was pretty funny, and we knew he’d be getting a good tip for it. Nearing the port, Hotel California came on the radio. Matt despises that song, and it was all I could do to not fall over laughing about it.

On the way back to the ship, he started telling us about his family, and how important it was to him that we would go home and tell people about Tunisia. He was worried that the news about the riots was all people knew. Which is fairly true in America in particular… while it’s a big European destination, it’s not very well-known to us. I would absolutely go back.

He dropped us off right outside the port entrance where he’d picked us up, and got our shopping bag out of the trunk. We tipped him well, and he seemed very pleased with the amount; he said he was going to get his kids some pizza for dinner. We thanked him and walked back to the little mall at the port. Along the way, another cab driver asked if we could trade him a 10 euro note for coins; the banks there won’t take the coins. We did that, and headed back to the ship. I hadn’t really realized til that point how incredibly hot it was there. The camels were still there hanging out, but it was clear they were getting ready to leave.

We walked through the shops and got back on the ship. Our balcony was so hot it was barely tolerable.

We went up to have a post-Tunisian snack of pizza, then headed down to play shuffleboard again. We ran into a few more people we knew while we were playing.

We then went up to the Lido deck because Matt had promised to try one of the weird Dutch sausages, and we were running out of time! After that, we went back to the room to change and watch the ship leaving port.

We also shoved all of our clothes in the laundry bag for Ishmael to pick up. Since we were traveling for 2 1/2 weeks, we figured we could bring about 10 days’ worth of clothes and have them washed. The ship had an all-you-can-fit for $25 deal, which was pretty excellent. That bag was absolutely bursting at the seams, too… I feel bad for whoever had to unload it.

We wanted to go play games in the lounge, but the Crows Nest (and therefore the game cabinet) was blocked off for a private party. The only game set up was checkers, so we did that (and could barely remember how… Matt finally went to find an encyclopedia in the library and looked it up). The couple from Madison wandered by, so we talked to them about their experience on the bus tour in Tunis. They did indeed go to the Berber rug shop, and they bought one! I didn’t think that ever happened. They explained how they were getting it home, because that part was confusing.

Our checkers game was so slow that I finally threw it and let Matt win so we could go get dinner. We went down to the Lido buffet around 8pm. I had squash soup, two kinds of salad (one involving lots of mozzarella), and no-sugar-added tiramisu. YUM. Matt had a good steak and acceptable lamb chops.

After dinner, we headed to the Queen’s Lounge for live band karaoke. Though it wasn’t our last night on the ship, it was starting to feel like it was ending way too soon. We watched the end of the Sharon and the Hal-Cats’ set, and then they passed out karaoke books and let people choose songs. There were some incredible singers, one Russian lady who stumbled through a brave version of “My Heart Will Go On” without being able to read english, a Belgian guy who sang “Sweet Caroline”, a Mormon guy who sang multiple songs, a gay guy from Berlin who sang “Smooth Operator”, an Indian Freddie Mercury, and a Swede who thought he was Elton John. It was all very, very entertaining.

We stopped at the casino bar for a cocktail to bring back to the room, and ran into the pub crawl group there. We made plans to meet them the next day for our final night of the cruise. SIGH.

I woke as the ship docked in Palermo, and we got up to get breakfast at the buffet. Neither of us wanted to eat much in case it would trigger seasickness, and we were both pretty sunburnt at that point. We stopped back at our cabin to grab our stuff, and the cleaning crew was there working. If you want to experience awkwardness, try to get into your cabin while the stewards are in there. I didn’t care at all, but they all scrambled away like they were supposed to be a big secret.

The only problem with the stewards being there was I didn’t want to take the time to put sunscreen on. That was not a great choice!

We got off the ship and encountered people selling tickets for the double-decker bus. We grabbed a map and examined it while we went to the ATM to get cash, and decided to buy tickets since it would drop us off near our primary destination, the Capuchin Catacombs. Also, another day of not walking around a ton seemed really appealing.

We headed up six blocks or so into Palermo and found the bus turistico waitin. We took seats on the lower level of the bus and plugged in our headphones to listen to the tour. When seats opened up on the roof the guide asked us if we wanted to go up there, but we decided to pass since we planned to hop back on and see things in more detail later.

Palermo is much bigger than I expected. It’s old and run-down in a classy Sicilian sort of way.

It took a lot of damage in the war, and a lot of it is still visible on the tops of buildings.

We rode up to the stop nearest the crypts (about halfway around the bus’ loop, at Monreale) and hopped off. We followed the map in that general direction, and finally found a sign pointing the right away (on Via dei Cappuccini, conveniently). We started walking up the hill, and weren’t sure if we had gone too far or not. We saw some old guys sitting outside a car repair shop, so I pointed to the map and asked where the catacombi were. He gave us fairly clear directions in Italian, and I assume he had probably told 40 other tourists the same thing that day.

We went up a ways and took a right, and the catacombs were there a block away on a plaza.

The most tragic part of the catacombs themselves is they strictly forbid any kind of photography. So basically picture a gigantic basement lined with mummies in coffins stacked to the ceiling (displayed so they’re mostly standing up facing you, with some laying down). There are elevated metal walkways, because the floor is all tombs. There are sections devoted to infants and some to the capuchin monks themselves. Everything is in an alarming state of preservation, especially the clothes, and the mummies are shiveled and horrifying and you’re convinced that you’re breathing dead people the entire time you’re there.

It’s fantastic, and it’s only 3 euros.

After the catacombs, we went into the cemetery and looked around. We found remarkably clean bathrooms there with squat toilets, and for the first time I had to use my own kleenex since they didn’t have toilet paper.

We walked back down the way we’d come, and stopped at a Farmacia so Matt could get antacids. (All the rich food was doing us in.) We looked for sunscreen but didn’t see any in the store. We walked through the Porta Nuova and headed to the next bus stop to wait for the bus turistico to pick us up. We were happy to hang out in the shade.

The entire loop on the bus took around an hour, so we decided to ride around and see everything, this time sitting on top. For most of the ride, we had the entire bus to ourselves.

The bus took us through the middle of town, which was packed at midday. Scooters are the way to go in Italy.

We then went out along the coast where we could see the old city wall. There are a bunch of restaurants built right into the wall.

We swung by the main train station, then drove by war-damaged city gates and back into the middle of the city.

We ended up in a traffic jam for no apparent reason. I sat there watching the Sicilian food truck guy working down below. At this point, I was clutching my sweater closed over my dress, so as to prevent any more sunburn.

We passed under the Porta Nuova again, which has part of the Palazzo dei Normanni on top of it.

We then headed back down one of the main streets, hearing stories about the mob hangouts along the way. We got off the bus where we’d gotten on that morning, and went to do some souvenir shopping. We had a much shortened stop in Palermo that day… the ship was only there til 3pm, so final boarding was at 2:30.

We stopped to buy some Sicilian souvenirs, then saw a food market that looked especially good. We were in there for a long time picking stuff out: we got aged balsamic, chocolate, some beverages, and snacks to have on the ship. We bundled up our heavy groceries, and headed back to the port. It seemed like most people had already boarded at that point, because it was after 2pm. We stopped quickly in the duty-free shop in the port building and bought a little souvenir bottle of limoncello to bring home, then re-boarded the ship just as the staff was asking for a count of passengers. It was time to go!

In our cabin, the laundry we’d sent out the previous day was already back. It was nicer than any washing I’ve ever done, and even though we hadn’t requested or paid for pressing, they’d done it all anyway. That service was absolutely worth the money, and our underwear arrived in the nicest arrangement I’ve ever seen:

We went out to our balcony to watch sail-away, work on our in-room beverage purchase (we had a lot left), and have a snack. Crik Crok is my favorite.

Seagulls followed the ship well out into the ocean. I wanted to throw them some Crik Crok, but I didn’t want Ishmael coming to yell at us.

It was sad leaving Sicily. We’d be back on mainland Italy very early the next morning. Cruises always seems impossibly short.

We went for our usual pizza at the Lido deck, then went to the obligatory farewell meeting in the theater, where the crew gave instructions for how to disembark (it was really unnecessary, since the routine is always the same. The main thing to remember is that you have to pack and have your luggage in the hallway before 1am). They then got a bunch of the staff onstage to say goodbye, and I cried. Just like always.

From there, we went upstairs to the Crow’s Nest for happy hour with the pub crawl crew.

After that happy hour was over, we proceeded to the next one at the Ocean Bar. Ronnie was there as usual, and we ordered Wang Wang. We weren’t going to leave without doing that at least one more time. Or twice, since it was happy hour!

We were planning to have dinner in the main dining room again, since we hadn’t been there in a while. The rest of the group didn’t want to change into nicer clothes, so we made plans to find them again later at the club. We had time to kill before our reservation, so we went up to the Silk Den to say goodbye to Ramil. The view from the bar at sunset was excellent, too.

Our table in the dining room was in the back corner, pleasantly secluded. Matt decided to order Chateau Neuf du Pape in honor of the Beastie Boys. I had a really excellent Indian entree for dinner, and we were way too full for dessert or even coffee. We decided to go to the casino next, because we still had some chips we hadn’t lost yet. We got seats at the Fun 21 table, and did pretty well for a while. Once my chips came back to me, I decided to risk it all (I think it was $40) on one hand and lost. It seemed appropriate for my gambling luck on the ship.

We headed to Northern Lights to find the group. They weren’t there yet, but we found some Cruise Critic folks instead. We hung out with them for a while, and then the pub crawl group arrived. Then it was time for dancing, and the theme according to DJ Stylez was “rock it til we dock it”. There were 2-for-1s and reggaeton, and a couple of the girls were dancing on a table. There’s a reason we really loved that group of people!

It was getting late, and we sadly had to say goodbye to everyone. There were hugs all around, and we went to the cabin for our customary end-of-the-evening drink. We still had a bottle of Prosecco that we’d saved, so we had it on the balcony while watching the most bizarre moonrise I’ve ever seen… it was bright red.

We finished packing, and put our bags outside the door right before the pickup deadline.

The major upside to not going directly to the airport or having to make any other travel connection after a cruise is that you get the luxury of disembarking last. We got to sleep til 8:30 and take a shower while listening to all the other groups of people being called to disembark. The ship was really empty by the last timeslot at 9:45, and the crew had mostly taken over for cleaning duties already. They stopped by at least three times to drop things off in the cabin, so we felt like we were being rushed to breakfast.

There were a few people left up there, but they still had all the food out. It was amazing that they would have to turn that all over in the next hour, since people could start boarding as early as 11am. While we were finishing, they called for everyone left onboard to head to the exit, so we did so. Sadly.

We got off the boat and found our suitcases waiting right inside the port building door. We rolled them to the shuttle bus and rode to the port entrance. Dale Earnhardt and Leonardo DiCaprio, two people we’d seen everywhere on the cruise and named according to their lookalikes, were on our bus, too.

We rolled our bags across Civitavecchia, and it seemed like we were just there even though it had been a week. Near the train station, we ran into the Madison couple again, so we said goodbye to them and rolled on to the train station. The line for tickets was crazy, but we got to an automated kiosk easily and bought second class tickets there. We then hauled our bags to the platform, clunking up and down stairs in a very uncomfortable way.

There were a ton of people on the platform by the time the train arrived, which is always kind of harrying. We piled on with everyone else, and that was a big challenge with our huge bags. Matt found us some seats and threw the suitcases up overhead. We didn’t realize until the train was packed and we were about to leave that we were actually in a first class car. There was no evidence of shady bag handlers or train staff around, so we just crossed our fingers and hoped we didn’t get kicked out to go stand in between cars for the hour-long trip.

We got lucky and arrived in Rome with no issues. The train pulled into a different terminal behind the main one, so it took a while to get our bearings. We headed off in the direction of the hotel, which this time was the opposite direction from Termini. We had to consult the map about five times, but we finally found it about eight blocks away, just past the Opera. Again, we had to haul our bags up stairs, this time a flight and a half. But the man at the counter was very nice, and our room was already prepared even though we were early for check-in, so we were thrilled. We headed up in the elevator, and the porter came up behind us with the bags. The elevator was barely big enough for them.

We cranked the air conditioning and flopped on the bed for a while, then got onto the hotel’s wifi and checked in with people back home for the first time since Barcelona. We looked at our maps and made plans for what we wanted to see, then went to find lunch. We stopped at a place at the end of the street called Strega and got an outdoor table. The place was a combination sit-down, carry-out, and coffeeshop, and it was packed.

Matt was beyond thrilled with his lunch, prosciutto and cacio e pepe (which was simple and delicious). I ordered a quattro formaggi pizza. A cat hung out on a table next to us, completely uninterested in what was going on around him.

After lunch, we went to wander. We were headed toward the Colosseum, which we had pre-bought tickets for at home. I had an idea that if we just walked in that general direction, we’d obviously run right into it.

Getting around Rome is NOT THAT EASY. We’d pass a landmark that we saw on the map and head the right direction, then suddenly be in the wrong place again.

Finally we got our bearings, and saw that we were on the opposite side of a very large park from the Colosseum. It was also very hot, and we were sweating and thirsty. It took us a while to get there, but we made it!

One thing we were reminded of yet again: the ancient buildings in Rome aren’t just interesting because of the history; they really are that impressive. I was thrilled to be in the Colosseum.

We got to jump to the front of the line with our tickets, too! Definitely do that if you’re going to visit, because as far I we could tell, there are always a billion people there.

We toured the building, halfway following the signs pointing the way. There were people sitting on pillars all over the place, so we had to do that, too. We visited the museum upstairs and stopped at the gift shop. Then we headed back out onto the plaza.

There was a cart right outside the Colosseum selling beverages, so Matt got Powerade and a water for me. The place was making a killing, and my water was gone way too quickly. (I was also carrying a bottle that I’d emptied long ago.) We traded picture-taking opportunities with a couple in front of the Arch of Constantine, then went over to the entrance to Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum, which were included in our Colosseum tickets as well.

I hadn’t really done much research on the sights we’d be seeing in Rome, focusing instead on our cruise stops and later stays. I figured I would just see a bunch of famous things and know all about them. But I really had no idea that there was this gigantic area in the center of Rome where the Forum and Palatine Hill were. It was pretty amazing.

To my vast delight, one of Rome’s many public fountains was there waiting for us at the Forum. We filled up both water bottles, and I instantly felt much better.

While we were wandering around, we met a guy from Georgia. He complained about the heat, and said that their plans had changed abruptly because there was a bus strike going on. We’d seen a crowd picketing outside the metro station, but didn’t know what it was about. He said it was due to be over at 5pm, though, so that wasn’t a big problem for us.

After touring the Forum, we went over to the other side of the park to see Palatine Hill, another piece of history I knew very little about. It was amazingly serene for being on a hill in the middle of Rome.

Please note that the trees look EXACTLY like you expect them to look in Rome. There were more palm trees than I expected, though.

We walked back down the hill and left the area right before closing time. We headed to the metro station nearby and got a ticket. Matt bravely used the train station bathroom… I was too scared to venture in.

Rome only had two train lines, so navigating is very easy. They cross at Termini station (like every other transit there), so we rode there and switched to the other line. Having been in the subway portion of Termini, I can understand why people might hate that train station. (I loved everything about it otherwise!)

We boarded the other train and rode across the river to the stop nearest the Vatican. It was still a several block walk from there, but at least we got to rest a little on the train.

My biggest excitement in visiting Vatican City was having the opportunity to walk into another country. I’m not religious, so it wasn’t a huge deal to me. The buildings are impressive, though, and they had just had some sort of mass there, so it was packed. Apparently cars can drive right in and park in the huge square, and they do so in typical Italian fashion… it was like one of those board games where you have to shift all the cars in the parking lot to get one out.

As we walked around taking photos, the plaza emptied. I was really amused at the number of nuns and priests just hanging around. We looked to see if the Pope was looking out the window or anything, but he must’ve gone to bed already.

We headed off to find the Pizzarium, a pizza-by-the-slice place we’d seen on one of Bourdain’s shows. It was a long walk, but we figured it would probably be just as far back to the metro to take the train there. So we walked around the Vatican wall, and finally found our way to the Cipro metro stop. The pizza place was thankfully just across the street from it.

We went in and quickly realized we didn’t know what to order. The pizza looked amazing, but we had no idea what was on it, or how to verify that it was vegetarian. We decided that it was a little too confusing, and went to look for a place with a menu instead. A block away, we found a very similar place that had little signs by all the pizzas, making it way easier to make choices. We pointed and ordered, telling them what size to cut with a hand gesture. We got two giant bottles of Peroni, too, and went to sit on the patio to eat. It was really, really nice to sit down, and we were conveniently only a block from the train station where we could easily ride back to somewhere not a million walking miles from our hotel.

We only finished one of the beers, so we put the other one in a bag and took it with us. We got to the entrance of the train station, but there were gates over the doors. It was maybe 9pm, so that seemed strange. We crossed the street to the main entrance, and found that blocked off as well. We weren’t quite sure, but it definitely seemed like the transit strike was back in effect. We saw a security guard walking away as if he’d just locked the doors.

There was no way we could walk from the Vatican back to our hotel, so we decided to hail a cab. The neighborhood we were in was really quiet, so we headed back the way we’d come, to more major streets. We walked eight blocks or so, stopping at each corner to watch for cabs going by. We saw a couple of them that were full. Finally, we stopped again and a cab pulled over. I asked the driver what was going on with the train, and he tried to explain in the little English he knew. It was clear it was related to the strike, though.

Riding in a Roman cab was fantastic. He tore through the city, and we saw a lot of the sights we had passed a week ago on the bus. We were at our hotel within 15 minutes.

We decided to go find a place where we could have Negronis and sit around. Rome didn’t seem to really have traditional bars, though, except for the single Irish pub we’d seen that looked less than appealing. They had a million restaurants that all seemed to serve cocktails, and the little shops where you could get a sandwich, gelato, coffee, and drinks. We walked around the area by the hotel looking into places, and finally decided on a restaurant that wasn’t very busy. We got a table and explained that we just wanted Negronis, not food.

We got our drinks quickly, but the server was in no hurry to come back again later when we were done. (We saw this a few times, and Matt’s theory was that since they’re not a tipping-based service economy, they’re going to pay less attention to lower-cost tables.) It felt kind of weird being in a restaurant to drink, even though we weren’t taking away space from anyone else… there were only a few other people there. Also, it was a million degrees in there. We decided to move on and see if we could find something else.

We stopped into one of those gelato places, because they had a whole rack of amari up on the wall. But they didn’t know what a Negroni even was, so we moved on.

At that point I was really tired of walking, and just wanted to hang out. We decided to swing by the liquor store right by our hotel, and pick up some beers. We’d noticed it before because of their awesome kama sutra grappa collection in the window:

There was an old guy behind the counter who pointed us to the beer cooler. We picked out a few things, and then I was laughing at the collection of wine bottles named after fascist dictators. He showed me the huge collection of miniatures you could buy, which was pretty amazing. The guy who ran the place was adorable, too. We took the stuff back to our hotel, and propped ourselves up on the bed with our beers. We turned on Sky Sports Italia and translated the sportscast to each other, to our massive amusement.

We got up and enjoyed the best shower yet in our cute little room at the Hotel Lirico, then went to breakfast in the lobby. European breakfast will always be my favorite: bread, cheese, fruit and coffee.

We calculated that we should have exactly enough time to go see the Spanish Steps before having to head to the train station, so we set off that direction, checking the map regularly since we didn’t have time to get lost. It was already incredibly hot and humid in Rome and we were rushing.

A sign led us to an underpass at one of the major intersections, and the underpass ended up being a book store. That was very, very strange.

We only got a little diverted once, but managed to find our way to the steps. The area was packed with tourists. The plaza was super-cute, and I’ve loved to have shopped there.

Of course we’d arrived at the bottom of the steps, and the easiest way back to the hotel was to go up them. Plus it seemed important to climb them. We had to stop halfway up to rest, but we made it in the heat. The top was full of buskers, guys in gladiator outfits, and people painting landscapes and selling their work.

We rushed back to the hotel, a journey that seemed to be mostly uphill, even though we’d just climbed up to what we thought was the top. We checked out of the hotel, and the porter carried my bag down the stairs for me, thank god. We rolled our way over to Termini and bought tickets for the Leonardo Express from a machine. The train seemed to only have first class tickets, but they were fairly cheap.

The train pulled in a little late, and everyone hopped on. It was less of a crush of humanity than it had been at Civitavecchia, though, and the train was much nicer. Matt put our bags on the rack, and we got seats in a little elevated couch section in the middle where we had a good view of the Roman countryside.

One thing that surprised us about Rome is how quickly you leave the city. On the train, you pass Vatican City, a couple suburbs, and then it’s basically nothing but farmland between there and the airport.

We got to the airport half an hour later, and took the long walk to the terminal through the station. We found the EasyJet check-in: it was the one with piles of litter laying all over the place. (I assume that’s one of the reasons it’s so cheap.) The lines weren’t long, but there were only two desk agents helping people out. There was a proletariat line that we were in, and a line for their frequent fliers. That line got priority, which was fair.

Once we got to the front of the line, we stood there waiting for the agent to gesture to us, just like he’d been doing for everyone else. The French couple behind us got REALLY angry that we weren’t going, explaining that this was the queue and we should just go down there. They were definite asshats, those Frenchies. We went to the counter when the guy called us.

We checked in, went through security, and a French lady jumped to the front of the line at the scanner. We didn’t have a great opinion of them by that point, and were wondering how our trip to Paris would go.

Our gate was fairly empty, so we went to do some shopping in the terminal. I overheard something in French about our flight number and a new gate, so we checked the board and that was correct. By that point the EasyJet queue was pretty long, so we were a little worried about getting crappy seats. But a bunch more people showed up behind us, so we figured we were safe. We stood there for 20 minutes or so, and then they started scanning boarding passes. We went into the jetway area, and found the whole ramp full of the people we’d just been in line behind. We were used to the queuing, but it was about 20 degrees hotter in the ramp area.

We stood there for way too long, and then the line started moving again. We made it to the entrance of the actual jetway, and Matt and I were able to edge inside far enough to feel the air conditioning. We stood there for another 10 minutes or so, then slowly the line started moving toward the airplane door. (I still think it’s worth it for the price of EasyJet tickets, but holy crap. Prepare to stand in line for a hour.)

We managed to get a row to ourselves, which was awesome. We bought cans of London Pride from the flight attendant, and had a meal of the Italian version of Go Ahead (which I’d bought at Roma Termini) and my Pocket Espresso. (Note: don’t open a Pocket Espresso on a pressurized airplane. It will just go on your pants.) We had a good flight, and our British captain Gary got us to Paris-Orly ahead of schedule, at 4:20. We saw the Eiffel Tower from the plane, too!

We stopped at a little shop in the Sud terminal to get some food and drinks from a vending machine, then started following the arrows to the rental cars. They ended up being at the Oest terminal, but the walk wasn’t bad. We found Citer/National after some searching, and checked in at the desk. There was some mixup with the car we requested (automatic, with a trunk since we’d be keeping luggage in there for a while), so they ended up giving us a much nicer car: a Citroen C5. It was hella fancy, and we decided to name it President Mitterand.

I’ve never driven a car with GPS before, and I’m generally annoyed by it, but it made our getting around infinitely easier. We figured out how to program our destination after some futzing with it, and headed out on the highways of Paris. We only encountered a few traffic jams along the way, and then we were out in the countryside.

We could read most of the road signs, so that was good. (We didn’t know what ‘rappel’ meant, but thought it was pretty funny.) We learned that France is really, really proud of its rural areas: they put signs up showing you what kind of farmland you’re passing, or what industries exist in a town. We passed the Asterix theme park, too, which looked a little bit run-down.

We entered a toll road and paid with a credit card, with no idea what the toll was. As we saw the Belgium border coming up on the GPS, we wondered if there would be any remnant of the plaza that used to be there pre-EU, but there was no sign of it. Just a ‘welcome to Belgium’ sign in French and Dutch. We took the first roadside exit at Texaco to use the bathroom and get snacks. Matt got an individually-wrapped Belgian waffle, since obviously that’s what you’re supposed to do there.

We were shocked when we got out of the car: it was COLD there. Like, way colder than we had expected. I was in capris and flipflops, and I was freezing. After we left the building, I dug my hoodie and sneakers out of my suitcase in back.

We got back on the road and soon crossed from the French side of Belgium (Wallonia), to Flanders, the Dutch side. The President told us how to get to the hotel, and that all went well til we got to the center of Brussels around 9pm and encountered Pride. Like, the actual parade was going on right at that moment. We diverted and had to circle a few blocks, but we managed to find the hotel. There were cars parked three deep in the entrance, but the valet told us to leave the car there and helped us unload the luggage.

The Hotel Metropole was probably the fanciest building we’ve ever stayed in. The lobby was full of Japanese tourists taking photos, and the entryway was full of notes from celebrities who had stayed there. We had a gigantic room, and the rack rate was 450 euros (we paid $140). The bathroom had a huge tub and a towel warmer. There was a trouser press on the wall, which Matt tried out later.The TV greeted us by name in English, and there were 2 free Stellas and bottles of pop in the fridge. We looked out onto Boulevard Anspach, which was in a certain degree of disarray due to Pride.

We unpacked a little bit while enjoying our beers, then decided to go try Delirium Cafe so we could enjoy several of Belgium’s ten billion excellent beers. We set out and walked a few blocks as things got quieter and quieter, so we suspected maybe we weren’t going the right way. We also noticed that every other business there was a temp agency. We looked at the map and turned around, heading back down another street. We passed a battery store, and noted it for later: I’d realized only a few days into the cruise that the one thing I’d forgotten was my camera battery charger, and I was heartbroken over the idea that I might not be able to take photos. I was glad that we at least both had nice cellphone cameras, but it’s not the same.

We passed our hotel and went the other direction. The street became crazier and crazier, so we figured we were going the right way. The area around Grand-Place was nearing a disaster, with drunk people stumbling everywhere and empty cans and cups all over the place. (It was around 10:30 at that point.) We hurried through the narrow cobblestone streets in the area, knowing Delirium Cafe had to be nearby. But we couldn’t find it, after circling and passing places we’d already passed before. We finally saw a sign for it pointing down a street, saying the entrance was in the alley. We followed the arrow and there was nothing there, so we kept circling. Finally we ended up going the other direction on the street with the sign, and found the alley… and it was absolutely packed with Pride partiers.

I was exhausted and had zero interest in trying to get in there. We decided to go find somewhere else to eat, and come back to one of the bars in the area for beer. Everything in the area seemed to be closing down except for the bars, so we finally decided on the Sultans of Kebap right outside Grand-Place. It was going to be packed with drunk people later, but at that point it wasn’t too bad. Matt ordered the doner kebab, and I got falafel. That food was so good, it will haunt me forever. They had the best bread in the universe.

Refreshed, we headed back into Grand-Place and settled on a place called Drug Opera, for one reason alone: it was quiet. We got seats right at the bar and ordered beers. Finally I was really happy to be in Brussels. AND they had free wi-fi!

We had another round, and the place started to close down around 1am. They only charged us for one beer, and we were fine with that. We decided to stop by the liquor store across the street from our hotel, and ended up grabbing a couple of beers, a can of J&B and cola (Matt had seen them smashed in the street, and was intrigued), and Kriek Max. Holy crap, I fell in love so hard with Kriek Max. It’s delicious.

Back in the hotel, we watched a German-dubbed version of British Silent Library, and a Tosh-like YouTube show called Rude Tube. European TV is so entertaining.

Sunday morning, we slept in. I woke up at 7:30 feeling guilty, then went back to sleep til 10. It was glorious. We made coffee in the room in our beer classes, thanks to Starbucks Via. (Europe does not put coffeemakers in their hotel rooms, you know.) I managed to drop my phone face-down on the bathroom floor and shattered the screen. That worried me a lot until I realized it was still usable, and I could wait to replace it when we were home.

We headed down to Grand-Place to walk around. Everything was still covered in trash from the night before, but we figured that would be cleaned up fairly soon.

My camera battery was officially dead. We went to go check the battery store, but it was closed on Sundays. Thank god for the cameraphone, even with a broken screen.

It was still cold in Brussels. I was wearing a hoodie and had my pants rolled down, but I’d have been happy for a jacket.

Belgian waffles are no joke… they’re REALLY into waffles in all forms there.

Grand-Place was amazing. There are sidewalk restaurants all over the place, too. As expected on a Sunday morning, it was full of other tourists. One thing that we were slowly realizing about Brussels, too: though they’re in the Dutch-speaking part of the country, people in the city speak French for the most part. It’s a little island of French-speakers. And for those of us who know some German and therefore find Dutch really easy to interpret, it was kind of frustrating.

We wandered around the same alleys we’d been in the previous night, looking for a lunch place. We paused for 2 seconds in front of a menu board at a Venetian-themed restaurant, and a server came running out to try to convince us to come in. It wasn’t very difficult at all. We got a table and ordered Leffe Brun, which quickly became one of my favorite beers.

There were only a couple vegetarian items on the menu, but I didn’t care: they had Italian-style four cheese pizza. Matt got a bucket of mussels with frites. He was covering the traditional-Belgian bases for us.

After lunch, we went to find the Manekin-Pis. And that’s exactly what it was. There was a huge crowd around it, of course.

We checked out the map, and decided to walk up to see the palaces and huge park between them.

Brussels is really picturesque. It’s also full of litter. We realized later that that wasn’t entirely Pride-party related… there’s just discarded crap laying everywhere. It’s strange, because that’s the only city we visited that was like that.

 

We climbed up a hill toward the palaces, and hung out on the front steps of the Palais d’Egmont for a while.

The Palais Royale is at one end of the Parc de Bruxelles.

The park itself is really pretty. There are walking paths everywhere, trees, flowers, and fountains.

The Palais de la Nacion is at the other end.

From there we went to walk down to the botanical gardens, but by halfway there we realized it was much farther than we thought. We decided to head back into the main part of town, and found a confusing way to get there on the map. It took us past a high-rise building complex that looked basically like a hobo jungle… all the windows were broken out, and there was graffiti all over everything. The plaza was overgrown with weeds. The far side of the building looked like maybe it was under construction, though. It was really confusing.

We passed the Cathedrale St-Michel on the way:

We stopped at a grocery store to pick up the hairspray I desperately needed (note: 2 travel-sized cans in that amount of time is not enough), and also found more Kriek Max, some beer, and Belgian Go Ahead. They were everywhere!

We dropped our bag off at the hotel, then went back down to Grand-Place. We figured this might be a good time to check out Delirium Cafe, since it was only 3pm. And it was! The front area (the actual cafe) wasn’t very busy at all, and the server was awesome.

After a couple rounds there, we went to look at the rest of the complex. We ended up downstairs in the main beer bar. The bartender asked if we wanted the beer list, and this is what we got. It’s more of a catalog:

In the time we were there we ordered, according to my list: Val-Dieu Tripel, St Idesbald Dubbel, St Feuillien Tripel, Chouffe Houblon, Kopstoot, Gueuze Tilquin, and Cre Tonnerre.

We were sitting at the bar directly in front of their certificate from the Guinness Book verifying that they have the largest selection of beers in the world. That’s no joke.

We had a couple ideas of where to go for dinner, so we walked over to an area about half a mile away to find them. The first was called Java Cafe, but they didn’t serve food there. There was also a Vietnamese place nearby, so we walked over there. It was across the street from a place called the Snack Bread-In. I still don’t know what that is.

We ordered vegetable spring rolls, pho, tofu fried with vegetables, and rice. Everything was excellent, and the place became very crowded while we were there. (We had to shift over in our 4-person table so they could divide it in half to make two, which meant we also had to have the table next to us get up when we left.) Behind Matt, there was a couple that seemed to be having some sort of food orgy. They were inhaling all the food in the world at an amazing pace, and slamming wine. The lady kept giving the man an orgasmic look. It was hella creepy.

We had to wait a really long time to get the check, since Europeans love sitting at the table forever. We finally got it and headed back to the hotel to change, because it was getting cold again.

We decided to go get a cocktail in the hotel bar, even though we were way too underdressed for it. (No way was I wearing a dress in the cold, plus I only had hoodies to wear over it.) The bar was awesome.

The cocktails were expensive, but worth it. I loved my Sidecar. Matt had a Metropole cocktail, and the bartender brought us chips and nuts. I surreptitiously shoved the bar mat into my purse for a souvenir.

From there, we went back to the Delirium Cafe to visit the bars that hadn’t been open when we were there earlier. It was infinitely quieter than the previous night. Our first stop was the rum bar, where we decided to sample the Havana Club Seleccion de Maestros, because of course we can’t get it in the US. Stupid embargo.

We got seats along the wall just as a jam session was starting in the very small bar. They played some Bob Marley, which was awesome, and a really old Jamaican guy wandered in from the other room and took the microphone. It was kind of amazing. We wanted to leave after a while, but felt uncomfortable walking out in the middle of the show, especially since they seemed to know everyone there. They finally took a break, and we headed next door to the absinthe bar.

There was a bottle of Sazerac up on the shelf so I asked about getting a Sazerac, but the surly lady bartender didn’t understand. We got the absinthe list, and ordered. It came with the standard drip, which is always awesome to watch, and feels pretty decadent.

While we were sitting there, some guys game in and had absinthe in a pipe. It involved fire, cupping the smoke for suction, and drinking it out of the pipe. I really want to know what that’s about.

We headed back to the hotel and had a Leffe in bed while watching “Cry Terror” in French. We know how to party in Belgium!

We got up Monday morning and finished packing our backpacks. We were taking the train to London, so our suitcases were going to stay in the trunk of the car.

We tried the charger store again, and this time it was open. The old guy working there was fantastic, too. He got me the charger I needed, and asked us all about our vacation. He also told us that he had ridden his bike from Brussels to Rome once. Holy crap.

We got the President from the valet, checked out of the hotel, and headed to the Atomium. Matt had found information about it only a few weeks before, and we couldn’t believe we’d never heard of it before. It’s exactly our kind of nerdiness, and it was amazing.

The Atomium was build for the 1958 World’s Fair. The spheres are connected via tubes containing either stairs or elevators. We got tickets and went to the elevator to ride to the top, which has a great view of the surrounding area.

 

 

From the top, you return to the second level and the tour spirals upward from there, and then back down. There are exhibits on each floor.

The tubes reminded me of space mountain.

We stopped at the souvenir shop on the bottom floor, then went to grab lunch at the cafe and ate outside on the patio.

We didn’t have a ton of time before we had to head to the train station, but we’d seen Mini Europe from above and it looked pretty awesome. We decided to get tickets and rush through it if we had to.

It was worth it. Mini-Europe is great!

We saw some things we’d just visited, and others we’d be seeing very soon.

 

 

I was particularly excited about Prague, and the Szechenyi Baths in Budapest.

 

We had to rush through the last part, and then headed to the car and set the GPS for Brussels Midi. That part went well until we encountered road construction, and were unable to drive the direction the President wanted us to. We had to circle around several times and attempt a different route to get it to finally recalculate correctly, and then we were back on our way. Traffic wasn’t helping much, either.

We found the station, but it took us a while to find the parking entrance. We finally got to the right place, took a photo of where the car was parked, and grabbed our backpacks to go to the Eurostar. We printed our tickets from the machine, filled out customs cards, and went through British passport control. (I wasn’t expecting passport stamps, so that was exciting.)

We had a few minutes to stop in the bathroom and the gift shop, and then it was time to board. A ton of people headed up the escalator and rushed to their train cars. It was much more well-marked than the Italian train system, so we had no trouble finding our seats.

Once we had left Brussels, we went to get food. The only vegetarian item they had was a hummus salad, so I went with that. (I’d specifically chosen the car next to the snack bar, because getting a cocktail on a train is just awesome.) We got gin and tonics to celebrate going to the UK, too.

The train stopped briefly in Lille, France, and then again in Calais so the French passport control people could get off. I was eagerly watching for the Chunnel to happen, but figured we wouldn’t really have any notice. Matt went to the bathroom, and of course we went into the Chunnel right at that moment. The entrance to it was pretty uninteresting anyway, but it did look just like the model we saw at Mini Europe.

England was exactly as I’d expected: rainy. It cleared up a little as we got near London, though. We arrived at St Pancras station, went through passport control again, and found our way out of the station. Our hotel was only about a mile away, but it wasn’t a great walk with heavy backpacks in the cold. Something we noticed immediately along the way too: people jogging in backpacks. They were all over the place in London!

We checked in and got our very dark room. We decided that meant that the British hate light, obviously. I made coffee in the room just for the sheer novelty of having hotel-room coffee. We changed into warmer clothes (not that we really had them: I had a light hoodie, thin pants, and sneakers instead of flipflops), and headed off to find Cotton’s Caribbean restaurant for dinner. It was several blocks away from our hotel, so we walked. We got a table, and were instantly happy. Jamaican food in London!

I had vegetable curry with the best dhalpouri ever, and a Mai Tai. Matt ordered the mixed grill and Rum Punch. Everything was really good. When we went downstairs to use the restroom, we discovered a big band holding practice downstairs. That was unusual.

We decided to head to another place within walking distance of our hotel for cocktails, since it was getting late. We found 69 Colebrooke Row (also known as the Bar With No Name) and were seated at a little table near the door. It was our kind of bar, with classic cocktails we knew well. We hung out there for a couple hours until the bar was nearly empty, and we figured it was time to go. We went to the bar to get our tab, and while standing there noticed that they had a bottle of Templeton Rye. It’s not even distributed outside Iowa, so that was really unlikely. We talked to the bartender about rye for a while, and then walked back to our hotel around midnight.

It was rainy again when we woke up Tuesday morning, so we headed out with umbrellas. We walked to St Pancras station to buy travel cards, then took the tube to Harrod’s.

The store was as ridiculous as I’d hoped. We took the escalators all the way up to the top floor and went to the souvenirs shop. We were there for a long time, picking out things for people back home. They had especially great products related to the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. From there we went to wander around the food and wine shops, and saw things like a 1,500-pound ham, the Veuve Cliquot bar, and 10,000-euro bottles of champagne, for which you got a bottle to drink yourself, and one to be aged in a cave for up to 100 years, which you would leave to someone in your will. Awesome.

We consulted the map and headed off in a direction we thought would lead us to Buckingham Palace, but we realized several blocks later in front of the Victoria and Albert Museum that we were going the wrong way. It started to rain hard, so we went into the tube station and rode to Hyde Park Corner. That tube station led us to a series of underpass tunnels that seemed to maybe be leading to the palace, but instead kept ending up in a park bordered by uncrossable streets. We finally figured out how to cross, and headed down a few blocks to find food. I saw something that looked like my idea of a traditional British pub called Rose and Crown, so we went inside.

Their menu had vegetarian fish and chips made with haloumi! I was beyond thrilled about that. Matt decided on a pie. We got beers and placed our food order at the bar, and hung out at our table. I was happy to sit… many many days of intense walking plus cold and rain was wearing me out.

After lunch, we walked to Buckingham Palace. From the restaurant, it was just a matter of cutting through a park to get there. There was a crowd out front, and a bunch of construction on the mall leading up to it because of the Jubilee celebration and the Olympics.

We walked down the mall, and noticed that we could see the London Eye from the park. The Admiralty Arch was at the far end:

From there we went to Trafalgar Square, which had a giant Olympic countdown clock.

It would have been nice if the weather was better, but at least it had stopped raining.

We then headed over to the Savoy hotel. It was around 4:30pm, and everyone seemed to be getting out of work. The streets were crowded. We found our way to the back entrance of the hotel, and were pointed upstairs to the lobby. Of course we were very underdressed for the bar and were carrying a Harrods bag, but that didn’t matter much. The place was too big a part of cocktail history to miss.

We ordered a Champs Elysses and a Hanky Panky. (I was amused that Matt had to say that. It was invented by Ada Coleman, the head bartender at the Savoy before Harry Craddock, the only female head bartender there to date!)

Matt wanted to visit a famous menswear store called Baracuta, so we walked over there and found it in a little shopping area. It was raining again, and my pants were soaking halfway up my legs. I was cold, too, and not the slightest bit thrilled about it. We found the shop, and the guy who worked there was fantastic. We got talking about the Caribbean, and he told us we had to visit Antigua because they have 365 beaches. That sounded good to us, as we had already booked a cruise that’s stopping there.

Matt picked out a jacket, and was better prepared for the London weather. I was not. We finally found a Gap, so we stopped in there to shop. I found jeans and a light jacket that I really liked. I was so happy to have warmer clothes that I didn’t even care that it cost three times what it would have at home. We walked back to the tube and rode to Angel station (the one nearest our hotel).

We stopped at the Tesco by our hotel, because I needed scissors to cut off the bottoms of my jeans (they’re always way too long for me, and looked funny rolled). They didn’t have scissors, but we did pick up cider and gin and tonics in a can to bring back with us. Back at the hotel, I borrowed a pair of scissors, did my ‘mending’, had a gin and tonic, and then we were then set to go out for the evening.

We walked back to Angel and rode down to the Putney Bridge stop. (It seemed like it was a ways out of town, definitely more like commuter rail.) We followed bunch of people to the bridge and crossed the Thames, then walked down a few blocks to the Half Moon. Davina and the Vagabonds from Minneapolis just happened to be playing there that night.

We paid 10 pounds cover and got the last table on the floor, front and center. Matt went to get us beer, and later I went to order food at the bar. (I kind of like that system in the UK… you don’t have to wait for a server, and you pay up front.) Our dinner was awesome, and so was Davina’s set.

We decided to leave during intermission, so we could visit other places in London before the tube stopped running. We went to say hi to Davina, and got a hug from her for being there. We walked back to the station and rode to Green Park to find an old tiki bar called Mahiki. We knew it was only open for about another hour, but figured we could stop in. It was conveniently right there by the station, too, but when we got there they had velvet ropes, and the place was obviously fancy. They were charging 10 pounds cover, too, which seemed stupid for such a short visit. We decided to go elsewhere instead.

It was late, so after some debate about how to get around after tube-closing, we decided on the pub we’d seen walking back from the Bar With No Name the night before. It looked like a friendly neighborhood place. So we rode to Angel, walked over there, and it was exactly what I wanted… a quiet pub with good beer and entertaining people-watching. I kind of wish we’d just headed there in the first place, because closing time was going to be happening soon.

I got Camden Ink – an awesome stout – and Matt got the pale ale. When the place closed, we walked over to a different Tesco near our hotel. We picked up three packs of Go Ahead, some scones to have for breakfast, and a selection of England’s finest canned cocktails. (Seriously, they were good! I liked the gin and grapefruit.) We headed to the self checkout and watched the drama unfolding at the entrance, where the store owners were yelling at the people trying to come in, since they were also trying to close. We walked back to the hotel and had G&Ts in bed while listening to Matt’s favorite punk show on BBC radio.

We got up at 8:30, ate our scones, and were again thankful for having hotel room coffee for once. Then we headed over to St Pancras to visit the official Olympic souvenir shop, because we hadn’t really seen much in the way of Olympic stuff elsewhere. (We knew we’d be at the station again the next day, but weren’t sure what time the shop opened.) We picked up a few things, then crossed to the Kings Cross station side and got on the tube to Arsenal. (It was on my favorite line, the one that ends at Cockfosters. If you can say that without giggling, you’re more of an adult than we are.)

One thing I’d really come to appreciate in London (beyond hotel room coffee, gin and tonics in cans, people walking quickly, not speaking French, and good beer): they remind you which way to look for cars at intersections. It’s easy to forget.

We walked the few blocks to the Emirates, and Matt joined the squad:

The stadium was really impressive. One of the things I really loved was that they had banners on poles circling the plaza that featured photos of fans with little bios about their dedication. I wish we did that here.

At the far end, we found the statue of Thierry Henry. I LOVE HIM.

We circled the rest of the building, then went to the gift shop and bought a bunch of stuff. Matt was really excited to be there. (While we were there, we learned that the British pronounce Adidas like the Germans – i.e. the correct way. Apparently that’s only an American thing.)

We stopped back at the hotel to drop off our purchases, had a snack of Go Ahead and cider, then went back to the tube. We rode to Bank, then transferred to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) to go to Greenwich. The ride on that train is really interesting… it’s mostly aboveground, and goes through the financial district, around the docks, and across the Thames. Halfway there, a big school group got on, and we knew exactly where they were going… with us.

We all piled off the train at Greenwich, and wandered out into a seriously adorable little part of London. I loved it a lot. We stopped at a souvenir shop, then consulted the map to find our way to Greenwich Park. Because we’re nerds, we really wanted to see the place where time begins.

The park was in the midst of a huge Olympic construction project, because that’s where they’re hosting the equestrian events. We checked out the arena they’re building, then climbed up the hill to the observatory. The entrance sign has the official time and measuring standards:

We didn’t want to pay admission to the museum, and of course the Prime Meridian line is within the museum’s courtyard. We could see through the fence where people were getting their picture taken.

However, you can go into the courtyard there, which gives you access to the gift shop. The Prime Meridian happens to pass through the building and out into the courtyard, so we just visited it there instead.

We picked up some souvenirs, then went back outside. We realized that there was an excellent view of the Olympic facilities from the hill.

 

We headed back down the hill and into town to find lunch. We chose one of the two really cute-looking pubs there and got a table near the bar. The place was called the Spanish Galleon, and it was a Shepherd Neame brewery. I ordered a beer called the Bishop’s Finger, just because of the name. Plus it was delicious.

Matt got fish and chips, and I had a vegetable sandwich. There was something about being in that style of pub again in London that made me really happy. It was just so stereotypical and awesome.

After lunch, we went to see the Cutty Sark. You know what Matt loves? Going on boats!

 

The whole museum was only very recently redone, and it’s really great. You tour the decks of the ship first, and learn the history of the tea trade.

 

They have a huge collection of figureheads in the museum. Is that the Burger King?

The view of the underside of the ship is fantastic.

We hit up the gift shop, then walked down to the pier to get on the water taxi. It has several stops along the Thames; we mostly just wanted to ride and get the view from the river.

The boat was a little cold, but worth it. Since we didn’t have a ton of time in London, it was a great way to see some things.

The Gherkin… Barcelona has basically the same building, too. Their nickname for it means poop, apparently. Oh, Catalunyans.

The traitors’ gate entrance is awesome:

The Globe Theatre:

We got off the boat at the London Eye. The line was crazy (is the line ever not crazy?) so we decided against riding it. Matt, who isn’t thrilled about heights, was totally ok with that.

We took some pictures, then crossed the Thames.

This particular area was packed with tourists despite the crappy weather, so there was the usual entertainment.

Big Ben, which hadn’t yet officially been renamed:

We saw Westminster Abbey and 10 Downing Street. At that point I was really damn tired of walking again, so we went to the tube. I was looking forward to a break, but of course it was packed (it was around 5pm). At least we could stand instead of walking, I guess.

Our destination was the Whisky Exchange at Vinopolis, which is quite possible the largest liquor store in the universe. It’s big enough to be marked on the tourist map, at least. We were primarily in search of their pour-your-own items, because they would be totally unique. It was basically a museum of whiskey, though. On the way there, we passed a movie set where they were filming a scene with a horse-drawn carriage. The neighborhood looked very appropriate for it.

We picked out a collection of mini bottles of scotch and a bottle of the Havana Club Seleccion de Maestros to smuggle home, then got an employee’s help for the pour-your-own (which is more like they-pour-for-you). He got us samples from all the barrels, and my tongue was numb by the end of the tasting. The guy who was helping us was hilarious, too, and had seemed to know basically everything about scotch. We got talking about smoky scotch, so he poured us Ardbeg Corryvreckan as well.

We decided on the Arras blended, Craigallechie single malt, and a rum from Trinidad. He handed us an unlabeled bottle and told us to remember what it was so he could mark them properly. Try repeating “Craigallechie” to yourself several times after a scotch tasting. It’s awesome.

Since the labels are made custom there, he said we could put any date on them we wanted. We went with our wedding date, of course. He wrapped everything up in masterful fashion so it would survive the trip home, which it did:

We took our two Vinopolis bags and rode back to the hotel to drop them off and relax for a bit. I had grapefruit and gin in a can (Snoop Dogg would be proud), and Matt had a Pimm’s cup (can). We walked to dinner at a place nearby called the Delhi Grill, which specialized in Indian street food. From there, we took the tube to Liverpool Street, in search of a cocktail bar called the Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town. It’s in the basement of a place called the Breakfast Club, and you enter it via a refrigerator door. (You also have to give them the secret phrase when you arrive.)

It took us a while to find it, and when we got there the upstairs place was full. I told them the password, and the girl there said the wait would be pretty long, since it’s a small place. She offered us a spot upstairs, but we decided to take our chances elsewhere. We headed off looking for one place, and only realized we were going in the wrong direction after walking several blocks. Matt mentioned that his friend had recommended a place he thought was nearby, so we managed to find its location on our map with very spotty wifi.

We walked past a huge office building that appeared to be empty, and the neighborhood was becoming less and less busy. (His friend said it was in a weird part of town, so that seemed ok.) We walked past a trainyard and some construction, and finally spotted a bar a few blocks away. We crossed the street toward it, thinking it was just a local pub that would work well for our needs. When we got there, though, we noticed that the place we were looking for was actually downstairs. We said hi to the doorman, and he pointed the way. We walked into a speakeasy-style place called Worship Street Whistle Stop (it was decorated with old furniture and barrels) that served the most creative and strange cocktails we’d ever seen. Nice work, recommender!

We ordered drinks at the bar, then found a two-person table nearby where we could read the whole menu. They were doing things like UV-aged whiskey, irradiation, cheese culture in booze, and something that was effectively made with dirt. It was all very entertaining. We had a couple of drinks there, and Matt tried the dirt cocktail.

After an hour or so the place started to empty, and we knew the tube would be closing up, so we walked back to the station and rode to the hotel. We cracked open our cider and got to packing up our stuff again, because it was already time to leave London. How could our time there have gone so quickly?

We got up at 8, packed up our remaining stuff, and headed on foot to St Pancras. Not only were we carrying the same heavy backpacks, Matt now had a Harrod’s bag full of booze, and I had all the other souvenirs crammed into a reusable bag I’d tied closed for safety. It seemed like a very long walk to the train station.

We already had our tickets, so we headed to security. They put the bags through scanners but didn’t seem to care about the contents. Then we passed through French passport control (which was sort of confusing since we were going to Belgium again) and ended up in a big waiting area with several restaurants around it. It was a much larger terminal than the one in Brussels.

We went to Caffe Nero and got cappuccinos and pastries for breakfast, and also grabbed sandwiches to take on the train for lunch. We grabbed seats in the lobby, and were very excited to find out that St Pancras had free wifi. NOBODY has free unprotected wifi in Europe. Right as we finished eating, they announced our train. We went up the escalator to the platform and found our car, which happened to be the same one as before. We just had way more stuff to cram onto the overhead racks.

Once we got far enough out of London that we knew the Chunnel had to be close, we kept an eye out for it. The problem with the UK side is that there are many, many regular train tunnels, so you end up getting excited about being in the Chunnel, then suddenly emerging into the light again. Finally we got outside Dover, saw the white cliffs, and were in the real thing. We had our sandwiches and G&Ts in a can to celebrate. (Just so you know, this is a picture of Bally in the Chunnel. It’s hard to tell it’s not just dark out.)

I was reading a book on my Kindle that kept making me cry. I wanted to stop reading it, but then I knew I’d have to just delay the crying til later. So yeah, I was sitting around crying on the Eurostar.

We arrived at Brussels Midi around 2pm. The shops were all closed and the station was nearly empty, because it was a bank holiday there. Even the parking ramp was deserted, which thankfully made it really easy to find the President there. He was waiting with all of our luggage intact!

Matt set the course for Paris, and we got on our way. I was sleepy most of the way, so we stopped halfway for beverages and snacks. We marveled at all of France’s famous farms again, and made it to our hotel exit shortly after 5. The Mercure Ponte de Pantin parking involved navigating a narrow driveway into a parking garage with tiny spots, so at that point I wasn’t at all thrilled with our gigantic Citroen. Getting into the last spot in the lot involved about a 40-point turn, but I made it!

Though we were only staying two nights, we had to unload absolutely everything from the car so we could reorganize our luggage for the return trip. We hauled it all in in their tiny elevator, checked in, and went to our room. It smelled like smoke when we got there, but we opened the windows and it aired out right away.

We were tired, so we decided to go find dinner somewhere, then pick up beers and bring them back so we could do the big packing/reorganizing project. We were tired, and figured we wouldn’t have time to see any of Paris before dark anyway. After hanging out in the room for a bit, we suddenly realized we didn’t have Bally. I knew we had just left him sitting on the dashboard in the car, but that still didn’t hold back a slight feeling of panic. We both went down to get him from the car in the garage. BALLY IS VERY IMPORTANT. Hey, we don’t have kids or pets, right?

We also knew hardly anything about the layout of Paris or the landmarks, so we looked at the metro map and picked a stop with a name we knew that was also on our same metro line for convenience. We walked the couple of blocks to the Hoche stop and rode to Bastille. The station exited right out onto the Opera plaza, and there were people everywhere. Walking right out onto the street in the middle of Paris was pretty exciting, I admit.

We headed in the direction of a bunch of restaurants and started looking at menus. A few blocks away, we found a place called the Iguana Cafe that looked alright. The downstairs was packed, but the guy at the bar said we could go sit upstairs. It was empty so we had little hope of getting a server, but shortly after we grabbed a table, other people started coming up. A server showed up with menus, we ordered food and drinks, and all was good.

While we were waiting for our dinner, Matt was watching people out on the street from the upper level. We were across the street from a bread and pastry shop. Suddenly his face lit up, and he excitedly told me that he just saw a man walking down the street carrying five baguettes under his arm. That was the most Paris thing we could possibly imagine. So funny.

I had four-cheese tagliatelle and a mojito, and Matt got steak frites and a Moscow mule. Matt declared himself an expert on Paris after seeing the baguette guy, so he started regaling me with facts. We were pleasantly surprised at the decent service we got; after other encounters with French-speakers, we were absolutely convinced that everyone in Paris would be a huge asshole. We were glad to be (mostly) proven wrong.

We were revitalized after dinner, so we decided to walk the few blocks down Ave de Henry IV to the Seine and see what the view was like. We got there and were initially confused, then realized we were at the portion of the river on either side of Ile St-Louis. We saw the very top of Notre Dame poking up over the buildings, so we walked down one side of the river in that direction.

Paris was gorgeous. I don’t know why that should seem surprising at all. I guess I’d heard the ‘romantic Paris’ stuff so often I figured it was a bunch of crap, but it’s totally true. It felt like place you’d be sad to be single in, though!

We crossed a bridge over to the backside of Notre Dame, looked at the gardens, then went around front. We weren’t really planning to do any touristy stuff that evening in Paris, but it was there, and it was really impressive.

Entry was free, so we went inside. They were just beginning some kind of strange projected mass on a screen in front, and the church was quiet and very dark. That added to the atmosphere, and also meant the windows were well-lit from the outside at sunset.

 

We crossed back to the north side of the river, walked a few blocks, and ended up at the Hotel de Ville. There were a ton of basketball hoops set up outside it, so we had to go check that out. It turned out that the French basketball association was having some kind of kids’ event, and there was a big billboard with Tony Parker and other basketball players there. We vowed to bring Bally back there the next day to take his picture.

I was really glad we’d gotten to see some of Paris, because it made me a lot more excited about the rest of it!

We took the metro back to the hotel and got to our repacking project. It was a lot of work, but we got all the souvenirs stashed away safely, and the weight of the suitcases seemed like it would work out after everything else was added.

We sampled a few of our scotches from London, and headed to bed shortly after midnight.

We got up Friday morning, got a cappuccino at the hotel breakfast bar, and walked to the metro station. This time there were a million vendors set up along the sidewalk, much like the markets we saw all over Rome.

The metro drops off across the street from the Arc de Triomphe, so we took the pedestrian tunnel over to the plaza. There was a huge line for tickets, and we weren’t even sure what that was for. We followed everyone else outside so we could just take pictures. (I think the tickets are so you could go up to the top. I didn’t even know that was possible! It was kind of London-y and overcast in Paris, so we didn’t feel like we missed much.)

 

We could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance! Once again, I was shocked at how big it was.

We headed down the Champs Elysees, taking way too much pleasure in doing super-touristy things. It just seemed extra-funny in Paris. We stopped into a patisserie and bought pain au chocolate, then kept walking.

Back out on the Champs Elysees, I noticed a guy who appeared to drop something very near us, then go scrambling to pick it up. When I looked to see what it was, there was nothing on the ground, and yet he suddenly he had a ring in his hand. He tried to get our attention to point it out. I knew it was some kind of scam, so we kept walking. (I figured it was the typical ‘distract them while someone else picks their pocket’ routine.) It was so obvious, though, I wasn’t sure how he could possibly get away with it.

The President had made Matt an even bigger fan of Citroen, so we stopped into their multi-level museum/shop and checked out the cars. Matt bought a model of the President so we could take our awesome car home with us.

We walked down a few more blocks, then cut over to the river to find the Batobus stop. It’s the water taxi that stops at several points along the Seine. That worked pretty well in London on a short trip, so it seemed ideal in Paris as well.

The boat arrived in ten minutes or so, and we all piled aboard. We were planning on riding down to the Eiffel Tower, the last stop.

The Eiffel Tower was even more gigantic up close! We went upstairs from the boat launch and immediately noticed the massive lines underneath. We hadn’t really planned on going up in the tower if it was really busy, but had no idea it would be that busy. As we wandered around underneath, though, we soon figured out why: only one of the elevators in each tower was running, so it was doubling the wait times.

After taking a bunch of photos there, we went back down to the Batobus and boarded one for the Musee d’Orsay. We didn’t really have anything in particular to see there, we just knew it was famous, and we figured we could probably find some lunch over there too. At the top of the ramp from the dock, we saw another guy pulling the exact same ring scam in front of us! We ignored him as well and kept going, but I couldn’t stop laughing about it.

The museum also had a massive line out front. We walked around it and headed into the neighborhood to look for restaurants. It was lunchtime, so everything was pretty busy. We found a place with a patio that looked decent, so we tried to get the server’s attention. We thought she was going to seat us, and then she didn’t, and seemed bothered that I was standing there looking at the map. Matt said she was being really snooty, so we decided look elsewhere.

We walked a few more blocks, and I’m glad we did, because then we found Le Square. We got a table on the sidewalk, and ordered their lunch deal that included an appetizer and entree. They had Leffe on the menu, too, which was awesome. (Though if you pronounce it the correct way, like the Belgians do, a French speaker will correct you. Haha.) I had goat cheese on toast and a raviolo, and Matt had serrano ham on toast and beef tartare with frites.

Our lunch was excellent, so we were very pleased we’d found that place. We headed back in the general direction of the river, passing the National Assembly building along the way.

Back near the Batobus stop, we noticed that the British couple in front of us was talking to a woman about a gold ring. She had apparently given it to them, and was asking for money for it. They were laughing and refusing to pay or give the ring back, because they were obviously wise to it. (Here’s more about how it works… it’s not really as shady as it looks.)

We got back on the Batobus to ride back over to the stop near Notre Dame, so we could take Bally to the Hotel de Ville.

I love the walkways all along the river in Paris. There were so many couples sitting alongside the river, and people having lunch. That’s really awesome.

We got off the Batobus and walked over to the Hotel de Ville to see it during the day.

Bally got his photo taken with Tony Parker this time.

From there, we went over to find the Pompidou Center.

The plaza surrounding it was crowded with locals, tourists, and buskers. It was really interesting, and I loved the modern art fountain.

From there, we went to see the Louvre!

It’s too bad it was overcast again, but at least it wasn’t raining.

After wandering around the Louvre for a while, we went to find the Ritz. It’s another of the super-famous cocktail bars where Hemingway used to hang out. It took us a while to find it, and it was clear just from the outside that we would never be well-dressed enough to be in there. But we played the tourist card and went in anyway.

We got a table and they brought us snacks and a menu. The cocktails were all 30 EUROS. There isn’t a drink in the world worth 30 euros, but apparently that’s the price you pay at the Ritz. I got a sidecar, and Matt got a French 75. We sat there laughing about how ridiculous it was to pay 30 euros for a drink. And I took a picture of Bally on the table. What were the French going to do, disapprove? They do that anyway.

We stopped to use the fancy restrooms in the hotel before leaving, and the women’s room had a MAID. Like, wearing a French maid uniform. God, that was uncomfortable. There was also a porter turning the revolving door, because obviously people couldn’t do that themselves. Rich people are hilarious.

We walked over to the metro stop by the Opera, the one that’s known for being the scene of the Phantom of the Opera.

We rode to Goncourt, and it didn’t take us too long to find our destination: Baron Samedi. We conveniently arrived right at happy hour, though I wasn’t sure at first they were open because we were the first ones there.

One of the bartenders spoke a tiny bit of English, and the other none at all, but that didn’t matter. We ordered from the menu board and got a table. They had Ti Punch!

Matt was in heaven. They were playing the Dirtbombs, and the bar reminded us of Triple Rock in Minneapolis. For some reason, I’ll never forget that the co-ed bathroom door said ‘Mixte’ on it. A few people came in after us, and they ordered a round of beers, and a round of Ti Punch. Baron Samedi is the kind of bar I’d like to own someday.

Matt got another Ti Punch, and I went with a Kronenburg lest I not remember my name anymore. After that round we needed to find some food, so we set off wandering again. We found a place that reminded us of the Sultans of Kebap, but they didn’t have anything vegetarian (which is really unusual for that kind of place). We walked some more and settled on a restaurant called L’Autre Cafe. I had a salad with grilled cheese toasts and vegetables, and Matt had confit de canard. We had Pernod Ricard to start, and then I had a Leffe while Matt had wine.

After dinner, we stopped at a market on the way back to the Metro and picked up our last hotel-room beers.

We rode back to Hoche, and went to the hotel to finish packing.

We got up bright and early Saturday morning, at 6:20am. We quickly showered, packed our final things, and checked out of the hotel. We programmed CDG into the GPS, but apparently recent changes hadn’t been programmed into it, and it sent us in circles looking for the highway entrance. We finally figured it out ourselves, and were on our way.

I was stressed out about having to find a gas station near the airport to fill the car, knowing that the card readers in the gas pumps don’t usually work with magnetic strip cards (everything in Europe uses the chip), and I wasn’t sure if they’d be open yet. We found one right inside the entrance to the airport grounds, though, and I was able to go inside and pay with a credit card. We found our way to the rental car dropoff, which involves circling around the airport twice (intentionally!), and left the President at Citer.

We walked to the terminal and went to the check-in machine. Instead of our boarding passes, it presented us with an assistance slip, which meant we had to go wait in a very long line at the check-in counter. When we finally got there, the lady was nice and there seemed to be no issue, so I’m not sure what was up. She balked at us wanting to check three bags for free, but I told her I’d just contacted Delta to confirm that as an elite member and Amex cardholder, we were entitled to check two bags apiece for free. She agreed that that was true, and took the backpack. (I didn’t really even have to check it, but since we could I didn’t want to carry it around.)

There were long lines at passport control, too, and we suspected it was just due to Europeans’ intense love of queuing. From there we took the tram to our terminal, and went through security there. That part was quick, at least.

We headed right to the duty free shop to finish up our souvenir shopping. At the liquor store, we got another bottle of Havana Club and a weird bottle of super-concentrated Chartreuse Elixir Vegetal, which came in a little wooden case. We then went to the chocolate shop and picked up three boxes of French chocolate for people back home. We stopped at a little coffee counter to get pain au chocolate and espresso for breakfast, then headed to the gate where they were starting to board.

AirFrance followed the EasyJet boarding system, with an Elite queue (which didn’t include Delta elite, sadly) and a general boarding line, even though seats were assigned. I had requested specific seats that looked to be similar to the economy comfort ones we’d had on the way there, but since we weren’t charged for them, I was fearing the worst. We actually ended up in very roomy bulkhead seats near the bathroom, so I was totally fine with that.

The flight attendant sitting in front of us was very nice, and our video monitors showed an outside webcam view of what the pilot was seeing during takeoff. (It was kind of nerve-wracking to watch.)

It very quickly became apparent how awesome AirFrance is. Shortly after takeoff, they served us a snack of crackers and champage. I fired up J. Edgar on my TV and started watching, but I gave up shortly afterwards because of the sound. (The European-headphones with stereo sound weren’t loud enough over the engines, and my good earbuds were only in mono with the weird plugins they had.) I said goodbye to Europe as we passed the coast of France.

Shortly after our snacks were cleared, they began lunch service. I got my meal right away, because it was a special order vegetarian entree. I had a lentil salad, pasta, miniature baguette, applesauce, and coconut pie. We got Heinekens, too.

After lunch, another cart came around with our digestifs. I said no because we’d just finished our beers, but the flight attendant asked, “are you sure?” and showed us our choices: a pear liqueur or cognac. It’s hard to say no to free booze on airplanes, so we changed our minds.

I tried watching another movie, but I had to hold the headphones against my ears to hear anything. I decided to play solitaire and blackjack on my phone instead. We played cribbage, and I napped for a while. We crossed into North America, and saw what I’m pretty sure were ice roads in Canada.

We watched the cameras on the front and undersides of the plane for a while, and then it was time for breakfast. Mine involved a miniature croissant and pain au chocolate, some weird nondairy caramel pudding, juice, and coffee.

We landed early in Chicago, got off the plane right away, and rushed to passport control. One of the guys waiting there yelled, “who wants to come into America?” We went right to him, obviously. We waited a bit for our bags, and had to open my giant suitcase to put the duty-free stuff inside; you’re not allowed to carry it onto the second leg of the flight. From there we went through customs, and there was no need for my paranoia over the fact that we were smuggling Cuban rum; they didn’t even ask. (We’d declared the liquor we were bringing back, we just weren’t specific about its origin.)

Outside customs, everyone has to drop their luggage off with the baggage handlers. I was a little concerned about that part, because they weren’t airline-specific employees, so the bags would have to be routed to a bunch of different places. I know how that goes at O’Hare, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We turned our bags over to the guys working there, and I was worried that I would never see my backpack again.

Everyone hopped on the tram and rode to their respective terminal. We checked out the map and saw that the Goose Island pub was in T3, so we walked the long walk over there and got seats at the bar. We were beyond thrilled to see sports on TV (hockey, even!), so we toasted to America and the guy next to us joined in. We got talking to him and learned that he was living in Belgium, so we compared notes on that.

Finally, it was time to head to our flight home. We had very comfortable economy comfort seats, and the flight was very pleasant.

….That is, until we got home and discovered that DELTA HAD LOST MY SUITCASE.

After several hours of panicking, contacting their service department online, and checking status updates, I saw that they’d located it at O’Hare and put it on the earliest flight out on Sunday. A courier dropped it off Sunday morning, and everything was intact inside. The duty free bag had a TSA notice on it and had been opened, but the Havana Club was still there. I’m not sure why they didn’t confiscate it, but I was thrilled that everything made it home intact.