tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51915089993588516152024-03-21T09:17:47.901-04:00Patrick and Katrina and Jack and Charlie do the Globe<b>Touring the world one meltdown at a time</b>Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-17808759210716981022022-12-14T13:32:00.006-05:002022-12-14T13:33:41.560-05:00New Instragram account!<a href="http://www.instagram.com/exitrowrejects/">www.instagram.com/exitrowrejects/</a><div><br /></div><div>That is all</div>Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-38550721090078652822016-06-25T14:54:00.001-04:002016-06-25T14:54:51.791-04:00Tarano, ItalyOur final home exchange of the summer was an idyllic villa in the middle of an olive grove in rolling hills an hour north of Rome. The sunsets turned the sky a hundred shades of red every evening and the only noise was a single cowbell ringing through the night. When we explored locally, it was tiny rural churches and four course lunches of the best pasta in the world. There was even a pizza oven on the terrace for us to try our hand at what we'd tasted in Naples.<br />
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Katrina: What do you remember about Tarano?<br />
Jack: I remember we had a pool. And Nanna and Papa came and they brought me a froggy to float in the pool with. At first I said, "I can't float with it! This is NOT a good idea!" But then I floated in it and I thought it was fun to float all over the water!<br />
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With Patrick's parents joining us, we were an entourage of six venturing through the hills, into Rome and Florence, and through the vineyards of Chianti.<br />
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Katrina: What did you like to do in Rome?<br />
Jack: I liked to see beautiful things. I liked the Colosseum but it broke a lot. <br />
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<br />Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-70245866073660055462016-06-25T14:53:00.000-04:002016-06-25T14:53:39.456-04:00Southern(ish) ItalyWe started the Italian leg of our trip in Naples. Noise, traffic, heat, grime. Vaguely reminiscent of India. Except instead of curries and naan, we ate nonstop pizza for a week. There was a <a href="http://www.pizzeriaoliva.it/" target="_blank">popular place</a> down the street from our AirBnB, and though they didn't speak any English and we don't speak Italian, they happily guided us on daily culinary adventures.<br />
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Naples was full of interesting neighborhoods to explore and a church on every corner. We also used it as a terrific home base for day trips to Pompeii, Vesuvius, and the Amalfi Coast. </div>
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Katrina: Tell me about Pompeii.<br />
Jack: I liked playing around in the leaves. Chugs liked crawling around in them. We had a great pretend home. We pretended that we were the people that lived there and worked there. So we had new houses. I liked the beer. We saw a theater. There was a pretend show. We took a pretend bath. It's an old town.<br />
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Katrina: How did we get to Positano?<br />
Jack: We took a bus that I felt icky on. And Mommy was freaking out about the bus. It was our stop and we couldn't get off the bus. The doors were about to close. Mommy said stop. The girl in front of us said stop, too, to help us. She helped us. We got out. We went to the playground. And we walked to a restaurant.<br />
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Katrina: What happened after lunch?<br />
Jack: We lost Daddy. But then we had some gelato, and got some medicine for me, and we saw cool boats in the water. It was hot. We met a man that was from Canada.<br />
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Katrina: What did we learn from him?<br />
Jack: Where is the toilet!<br />
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Katrina: What was the best part of Positano?<br />
Jack: I liked the pizza!</div>
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Working our way north, we departed Naples to spend a week in Gaeta: a completely adorable beach town halfway to Rome. It's just a little blip of land sticking out into the Tyrrhenian Sea. We spotted it on a map when we were plotting our Italian trip from Paris, and Googling yielded promising results. We found an awesome AirBnB with a private rooftop terrace walking distance from the beach--and between those two things, that was our week in Gaeta. Just us and the nuns.<br />
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Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-46774746327633859312015-09-02T09:55:00.000-04:002015-09-02T09:55:04.596-04:00Jack's Top Ten: Provence10. <a href="http://www.chateau-baux-provence.com/">Chateau des Baux de Provence</a><br />
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The catapult was crazy...it threw the ball in the air. <br />
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9. Keyboard at our home in Arles<br />
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I liked pressing the buttons to make music. I liked being able to do it with Chugster (Charlie).<br />
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8. Leading the way home<br />
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I liked being the leader and I had some help from the streets I already noticed<br />
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7. <a href="http://www.palais-des-papes.com/en">Palais des Papes</a> in Avignon<br />
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I used to not know what a courtyard is but I loved this one.<br />
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6. The Camargue Races at <a href="http://www.arenes-arles.com/">Arena d'Arles</a><br />
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My favorite is when the bull jumped over the fence.<br />
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5. Mousse au Chocolat at <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187154-d6280329-Reviews-Le_Menestrel-Nimes_Gard_Languedoc_Roussillon.html">Le Menestral</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoz-GIxAS4xH3iLK2BX9hFW9SUfSzVB_RAtUxoHc0YNBztv3DYUX7bMSfmRfw_wYFQG4FSzHPvf9KzZG3mULokLcbx2BKhDiA_S6IvoXg_kfOMqoFJZEX9ED962Z2Pol90YmOoNTry8WHJ/s1600/Italy+A+159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoz-GIxAS4xH3iLK2BX9hFW9SUfSzVB_RAtUxoHc0YNBztv3DYUX7bMSfmRfw_wYFQG4FSzHPvf9KzZG3mULokLcbx2BKhDiA_S6IvoXg_kfOMqoFJZEX9ED962Z2Pol90YmOoNTry8WHJ/s320/Italy+A+159.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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4. Dinner at <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187211-d1170003-Reviews-Fad_oli-Arles_Bouches_du_Rhone_Provence.html">Fad'oli</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAG4TKvYm3YO-mcwDgkeggASq-NLPxf7g0kJK5RBBtDJ2hF0VCiN32j0WyKOm4lKSE6R9IaEblWBWp071iWxm813ZqehMWjI2X6tl6b1-KvskE3nj-TTZGZWOecfNLKYpoF_3AFMUtlfh/s1600/caption.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAG4TKvYm3YO-mcwDgkeggASq-NLPxf7g0kJK5RBBtDJ2hF0VCiN32j0WyKOm4lKSE6R9IaEblWBWp071iWxm813ZqehMWjI2X6tl6b1-KvskE3nj-TTZGZWOecfNLKYpoF_3AFMUtlfh/s320/caption.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The woman there was nice and she loved Chuggy (Charlie). And she spoke English.<br />
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3, <a href="http://carrieres-lumieres.com/en">Carrières de Lumières</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrUgiBzxGeCu21rkWVBslM5_fH6wmX6qqjTJI2vlAo-kwMBA-tMX0Ag_kFosQVV8BMj8zxefivz6G_5fq6bwMaX_kw-13iLvQF8z_uoaI8oG5wZlkHWP3uOIdZCb8eaxA7v88rkUYlvA7/s1600/klimtsimu_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrUgiBzxGeCu21rkWVBslM5_fH6wmX6qqjTJI2vlAo-kwMBA-tMX0Ag_kFosQVV8BMj8zxefivz6G_5fq6bwMaX_kw-13iLvQF8z_uoaI8oG5wZlkHWP3uOIdZCb8eaxA7v88rkUYlvA7/s320/klimtsimu_0.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Standing on the walls and people thought I was in the show.<br />
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2. Place de la Republique<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVny8QmdqIHJfgDmL_arRRSf1YOrU0EVi9QtrYbwqZBmp2sKwWhRXOIxewuAPj3Mx26zIHjbUOcNNoLkRNjdTjPl4lSfjSX3HPXv5AReLakzDr6AfUTbKaK__WhCCAviG9Jj060goUNqOa/s1600/France+E+160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVny8QmdqIHJfgDmL_arRRSf1YOrU0EVi9QtrYbwqZBmp2sKwWhRXOIxewuAPj3Mx26zIHjbUOcNNoLkRNjdTjPl4lSfjSX3HPXv5AReLakzDr6AfUTbKaK__WhCCAviG9Jj060goUNqOa/s320/France+E+160.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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It was tall and pretty with a nice view.<br />
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1. Date night and gazpacho with Mommy at <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187211-d3194562-Reviews-Cuisine_de_Comptoir-Arles_Bouches_du_Rhone_Provence.html">Cuisine de Comptoir</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-DyLzvrFE_Z1h0sV-t7rtdAj0oZ6ehoJzrVSY-1XuDP8Fkm14OSDKQMBDWqYf_mNaX_ycSeShu9eqCihBi4MWYKjLe_r5HxhwdVKFH6hm04XL-6aQpekLm2PXvVNcDXMd_CAhP3l5CMg/s1600/France+E+317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-DyLzvrFE_Z1h0sV-t7rtdAj0oZ6ehoJzrVSY-1XuDP8Fkm14OSDKQMBDWqYf_mNaX_ycSeShu9eqCihBi4MWYKjLe_r5HxhwdVKFH6hm04XL-6aQpekLm2PXvVNcDXMd_CAhP3l5CMg/s320/France+E+317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It wasn't so hot...it was so so cold.Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-48660336430426526432015-08-28T10:28:00.002-04:002015-08-28T10:29:50.229-04:00Jack's Top Ten: Paris<span style="font-family: inherit;">10. Korean BBQ at <a href="http://www.restaurant-garden-nogent.fr/">Garden</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrUMfo0_2Tm_vCNNOh87KArykojeONFR9j3EDB0SlvUti4to38sNG3Y_78AumXU_Loho5jwMZm_GRN1B0xtdBNAZl_37KOl-cSP6yef_EFIzqfeyPGuw8pG98fhH9lT6XhsfVEvRmpJNH/s1600/France+2+252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrUMfo0_2Tm_vCNNOh87KArykojeONFR9j3EDB0SlvUti4to38sNG3Y_78AumXU_Loho5jwMZm_GRN1B0xtdBNAZl_37KOl-cSP6yef_EFIzqfeyPGuw8pG98fhH9lT6XhsfVEvRmpJNH/s320/France+2+252.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">9. <a href="http://chezjanou.com/">Chez Janou</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSqErNrcdRBj6a3jgsBA7tcVkQYPw41L2pScYAFUur9sjqbVZnJofS7s7fR9kqqjrJlbsqyuxzWKUNZB1Bv1WhLMrES7inKIqaH67BeO9CyhDhrWVEgl85HVSu720-3TS3es4JzJM2iIz/s1600/France+C+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSqErNrcdRBj6a3jgsBA7tcVkQYPw41L2pScYAFUur9sjqbVZnJofS7s7fR9kqqjrJlbsqyuxzWKUNZB1Bv1WhLMrES7inKIqaH67BeO9CyhDhrWVEgl85HVSu720-3TS3es4JzJM2iIz/s320/France+C+095.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"The mousse au chocolat was yummy but I didn't like the snail meatballs."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">8. <a href="http://www.bowlingstriky.com/presentation-nogent.html">Striky Bowling</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ME_vee7zFtnkc2Of4yhm1QIfkYy_dpYoNIGELCQNBK4RpKP3ido0_0bB1fFYWSuRrp29Q_SZho9tqf1-zgpWoAngvh9faB5JSPXRbde7AvX7wrWjBx6IkwpMPn-zdCYyMiivRpGWq98g/s1600/France+D+057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ME_vee7zFtnkc2Of4yhm1QIfkYy_dpYoNIGELCQNBK4RpKP3ido0_0bB1fFYWSuRrp29Q_SZho9tqf1-zgpWoAngvh9faB5JSPXRbde7AvX7wrWjBx6IkwpMPn-zdCYyMiivRpGWq98g/s320/France+D+057.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7. <a href="http://www.vaux-le-vicomte.com/en/">Vaux-le-Vicomte</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrPlLLwXwm-UvrKOfP08K1w-4hu6tWAFNQPOXYldZ1dXmBiQRrIW_z8HjLdAmzphMlo9h04FL9v-kW12gootJQJLyE8yDnMgYbtPjyJfmNzxW1o5HVF-xCqy4yXM0RBSFwGv7pYtYQCMI/s1600/France+2+319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrPlLLwXwm-UvrKOfP08K1w-4hu6tWAFNQPOXYldZ1dXmBiQRrIW_z8HjLdAmzphMlo9h04FL9v-kW12gootJQJLyE8yDnMgYbtPjyJfmNzxW1o5HVF-xCqy4yXM0RBSFwGv7pYtYQCMI/s320/France+2+319.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"The fountains were so nice and smooth. I wish I could touch it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">6. Rooftop Terrace at <a href="http://haussmann.galerieslafayette.com/en/" target="_blank">Gallerias Lafayette</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggWamjy3Qk088ezpsog5jBXxg8WzO7VvPFcWeL0vtHRgjcCUohJZth0E8xtG3o00cC9asG5xZck1EN10Iss6FU9RspjuQLr5dZtpxwYhRgaVkrm4oHjhCHOJsxtPu6v1Q0a0VH8VkrKyz/s1600/France+E+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggWamjy3Qk088ezpsog5jBXxg8WzO7VvPFcWeL0vtHRgjcCUohJZth0E8xtG3o00cC9asG5xZck1EN10Iss6FU9RspjuQLr5dZtpxwYhRgaVkrm4oHjhCHOJsxtPu6v1Q0a0VH8VkrKyz/s320/France+E+007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We were so high and we saw all of Paris."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">5. Luxembourg Gardens</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3hppeDHPagM2VAew-sidrV2nAKbTFwHGLy_Ip9E2ozy5a4FzqLJcrlgqDMx-tbmMOxcdt_t3icDvFZ0g-jw0QML9uPfq8KDPLsB3_RW39jCR-cY0sRrelcUctgX_xLmB-uLsuoLII-nN/s1600/France+D+181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3hppeDHPagM2VAew-sidrV2nAKbTFwHGLy_Ip9E2ozy5a4FzqLJcrlgqDMx-tbmMOxcdt_t3icDvFZ0g-jw0QML9uPfq8KDPLsB3_RW39jCR-cY0sRrelcUctgX_xLmB-uLsuoLII-nN/s320/France+D+181.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Lots of fun things in a beautiful garden."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">4. <a href="http://www.mosqueedeparis.net/" target="_blank">Grand Mosque of Paris</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1t6CQaTnTGB1bWAaFIvpUHc-WhmsEx-Qfdg-2tzaFzUUeYxyd0uxgNxxfN3eRM8c4U41dvAAVfkgKewEjgTPLyR80EE4lzQfxhwJZpYv_4gCbixDaLMDM1LFMWp6gvJoZ8V8jmubZaJV/s1600/France+2+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1t6CQaTnTGB1bWAaFIvpUHc-WhmsEx-Qfdg-2tzaFzUUeYxyd0uxgNxxfN3eRM8c4U41dvAAVfkgKewEjgTPLyR80EE4lzQfxhwJZpYv_4gCbixDaLMDM1LFMWp6gvJoZ8V8jmubZaJV/s320/France+2+037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"The ceilings were so cool...you could see the sky but you were inside."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">3. Clocks at <a href="http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/home.html" target="_blank">Musee D'Orsay</a></span><br />
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"The holes were like windows."<br />
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1. Monument Mini Golf<br />
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Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-89144533072991263212015-08-25T05:00:00.000-04:002015-08-25T05:00:40.296-04:00A Perfect Provencal LunchIt began with Charlie falling asleep as we searched for a restaurant. We had just spent the morning hiking up, down, and around Nimes' spectacular Jardins de la Fontaine, a large park built around Roman bath ruins. Jack got to climb up the Tour Magne watchtower at the top; Charlie got to climb over ruins rubble in a hermit crab crawl. Everyone was a winner.<br />
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But now we were hungry, and all we could find open on an August Sunday were tourist-trappy restaurants, suspicions confirmed on TripAdvisor to serve awful food. But just as Charlie's eyelids fell, we turned onto another empty street...almost empty, but for two older French ladies gossiping over a bottle of rose. There were just three small tables outside <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Le-Menestrel/375807502561906">Le Menestrel</a> and the proprietress warmly welcomed us to settle in for lunch. Patrick wedged himself into a seat with a limp, snoozing Charlie still strapped to his chest. <br />
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This was our chance: we ordered up three courses from their formule du midi. And maybe because he is just such a stellar kid, or maybe because he knew mousse au chocolat was coming at the end of the meal, Jack was being a total charmer. Emboldened, we mimicked our neighboring table and ordered up our own bottle of rose. It was crisp, refreshing, and most of all totally luxurious to sip as we enjoyed the quiet afternoon together as a family.<br />
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Oh, and the food! I've never been one for vegetable "pasta" (spaghetti squash spaghetti...what a bait and switch!) but their tagliatelle aux courgettes wasn't trying to hide anything. A celebration of zucchini, it was a delightful al dente perfectly seasoned and drizzled with balsamic and roasted pine nuts. A hit with all ages. We had a super tender, red wine bull stew (a provencal specialty) and a steak that was exactly the right side of rare served with a roquefort sauce I slurrped up like a soup. At some point in this food parade Charlie woke up, bright-eyed and happy to join our leisurely meal. He was a big fan of the table bread.<br />
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Jack was barely able to stay in his seat as the mousse au chocolat was brought to the table. Silky, chocolatey, and served in one of those spherical dessert dishes they use in France that makes everything look that much more elegant. We made it all the way to Jack's last scrape of the bowl before Charlie began to squirm and had to be walked around as I paid the bill.<br />
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90 glorious minutes of lunch. Sometimes, the stars align. <br />
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<br />Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-89996171290774704602015-08-16T14:12:00.000-04:002015-08-16T14:12:12.436-04:00France, Part 3: Deja Vu in ParisPatrick and I knew that with two kids in tow, there weren't going to be a lot of leisurely brasserie meals on this Paris trip. So we wanted to thoroughly research in order to prioritize one for lunch in the Marais (my favorite Paris neighborhood). Hundreds of reviews and four stars each on <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/chez-janou-paris" target="_blank">Yelp</a> and <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187147-d714966-Reviews-Chez_Janou-Paris_Ile_de_France.html" target="_blank">TripAdvisor</a>, <a href="http://chezjanou.com/" target="_blank">Chez Janou</a> was standing out among the pack. As we read the raves about their tagliatelle aux escargots and mousse au chocolat, our mouths began to water. And then I started to have this strange deja vu...like I'd been anticipating this mousse before. We realized that this had been our first choice six years ago, when we were choosing a brasserie for our singular Parisian restaurant excursion on our <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2009/07/paris-france.html" target="_blank">honeymoon</a>. (On that trip, dining was strictly limited by our travel <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2010/02/mailbag-monday-february-8-2010.html" target="_blank">budget</a>.) The previous plans had been foiled by Chez Janou's July month-long vacation closure. Six years and one month later, my dreams of being romantically spoon-fed the famed mousse by my husband were fulfilled...if only because I had a baby in one arm and was wrangling a four-year-old with the other. Victory nonetheless! The food really was fantastic, the waiter ever so charming, and the ambiance perfectly Parisian.<br />
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I thought that recreating our most popular dining mode would be much simpler: the Paris picnic! On our honeymoon we subsisted on cheese, baguette, and cheap wine al fresco. What is more kid-friendly than lunch in a park? So we gathered supplies at the market and headed to the beautiful Tuileries. What became immediately apparent, and we had never fully appreciated when childless, was that the lounging at Tuileries is all done in lawn chairs. The grass areas are 100% roped off and there is nowhere other than dirt paths littered with cigarette butts and bottle caps (from the lawn chair loungers) for a one-year-old to crawl around. And Charlie is not a lounging kind of baby. There was struggling, there was chasing, there were tears, and there were dirty dirty children. Nostalgia fail. </div>
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Jack, too, was interested in some intentional re-creation. There is this picture of Patrick from our honeymoon: </div>
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We'd found ourselves at Les Invalides, exhausted after a red-eye flight and non-stop Paris sightseeing all day (seriously, looking back at these pictures: what were we thinking?!). Patrick pretended to take a little nap. And Jack thinks that this picture is just about the funniest thing ever. He was determined to visit those cannons. And so...we couldn't resist:</div>
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<i>More pictures from our Paris travels can be found <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/NogentSurMarneFrance">here</a>.</i></div>
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Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-56928523152350983002015-08-14T10:42:00.001-04:002015-08-14T10:42:39.982-04:00Home Exchange, Part TwoI started my rave about house swapping in a <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2015/08/home-exchange-part-1.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>. Today, I continue with four more reasons to love it!<br />
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4. <i>Home away from home. </i>It's not just kids who appreciate a home-y setup. Adults need their toys, too! Anyone who has tried to cook in a vacation rental knows the challenge of cheap cookware and empty pantries. Having real kitchens has made this trip like none I've taken before. The famous markets of Paris, bursting with fresh produce and unique ingredients, are not simply a sight to see but where I do my grocery shopping. Beyond the kitchen, there are books on shelves, real furniture, and cable TV holding your new favorite shows like <a href="http://www.france2.fr/emissions/fort-boyard" target="_blank">Fort Boyard</a>.<br />
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5. <i>Unexpected destinations. </i>99% likely we would never have seen Vrena, Sweden if it weren't for home exchange. We weren't even seeking out Sweden before we happened upon our house in a late night exploration of families looking to come to Boston in July. This place popped up and the pictures and description totally charmed us. We loved Sweden, and loved being in a tiny town waaaay off the beaten path (see<a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/sweden/sodermanland/vrena" target="_blank"> Lonely Planet's info page</a>) with an insider's travel guide. Plus, there's nothing like the reaction of locals in towns like this when they discover a tourist in their midst. The joke we began when we found ourselves washed ashore a <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2009/08/paranagua-brazil.html" target="_blank">remote Brazilian island</a>, "Paris, Moscow, Ilha Rasa" is easily adaptable and slays every time.<br />
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6. <i>New friends. </i>With home exchange, you are guaranteed to forge relationships with people you would never have otherwise met. There are skype calls and emails to set up the exchange and manage logistics, but there are also welcome gifts and sharing stories about happy vacationing (hopefully!) in your home town. Sometimes you get to meet your exchanger in overlapping windows: our French family welcomed us the night before their departure, prepared a lovely dinner, and gave us a walking tour of the town, introducing us to neighbors along the way. In Sweden, a friend of the family invited us over to meet her flock. I was fascinated to learn about sheep farming, and also had a friendly audience to ask some of my burning questions about sauna culture. Tack, Paivi!<br />
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7. <i>Pet sitting. </i>We don't have any pets so this wasn't an issue for us, but in France we have adopted two cats along with the house. We are taking good care of Monsieur and Ponyo, and I'm pretty sure Charlie now thinks he's a cat.<br />
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<i>More pictures from our home exchanges and related travel can be found in our <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/Sweden" target="_blank">Sweden</a> and <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/NogentSurMarneFrance" target="_blank">France</a> photo albums.</i><br />
<br />Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-77212585517148247662015-08-10T09:40:00.000-04:002015-08-10T09:40:51.469-04:00France, Part 2: House Hunting Around ParisIt's clear that I am pointing things out to Jack at an obnoxious level because he has started to parrot the behavior back to me. This is not so charming when he insists I affirm his recognition of every construction site we pass in Paris, but there are some gems. "Look at that fancy desk where the man who lived here worked," I said at <a href="http://www.vaux-le-vicomte.com/en/">Vaux-le-Vicomte chateau</a>. Jack replied, "Look at that chimney behind it, where Santa Clause could come in. He could put the presents on the desk so everyone could see." <br />
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If Versailles is the croquembouche of French palaces, Vaux-le-Vicomte is a macaron: lacking the shock-and-awe factor but still impressive in its smaller package, with all the essential elements for a tasty treat. An easy 45-minute drive from Paris, it was the perfect family chateau experience. We walked around the gardens (making sure to go on a day the fountains were running) and toured the inside in a comfortable two hours. Ornate bedrooms with matching bed drapery/linens/wallpaper? Check. Grand hall for welcoming aristocrats? Check. We even got to visit servants' quarters below which I found to be an unexpected treat. Jack got a particular kick out of the master bathroom with toilet throne. He really wanted to use it. All this without the lines and crowds...and guaranteed child meltdowns of Versailles: check check check!<br />
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In other spectacular homes surround Paris news, we drove out to Giverny. Oh my goodness. Jack had lots to point out at Monet's incredible home, the wide bedroom windows overlooking a garden overflowing with flowers every color of the rainbow. And of course--the water lilies! Even with hundreds of other people sharing the experience, it felt quiet and serene and so so beautiful. We flanked the trip with visits to his paintings at Musee d'Orsay (before) and Musee de l'Orangerie (after), and I'm so glad we did. I think it gave everyone a special kind of appreciation for both the paintings and Giverny itself. (Side note, I love that the Orangerie does not mess around: you come in the entrance, show your ticket, and stroll directly into the <a href="http://www.musee-orangerie.fr/homes/home_id24799_u1l2.htm" target="_blank">Nympheas</a> room directly in front of you.)<br />
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And check out THIS beauty in Nogent-sur-Marne! It's ours! At least for another two weeks...<br />
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Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-38409278700757360232015-08-08T07:28:00.000-04:002015-08-08T07:28:13.692-04:00Home Exchange, Part 1I was getting mad props from the backpackers on the Basel-Paris train. They were two twenty-something single guys...the kind of unattached globetrotters that meet up at hostels, change directions with the wind, and <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2009/09/mendoza-argentina.html">find new travel companions along the way</a>. As Charlie crawled over the counters in the cafe car and I described our three-month trip, they seemed to buy into my line that life, in fact, is not over when you have kids. Travel is still possible! Maybe this home exchange concept is like backpacking for grownups.<br />
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I've gotten lots of questions about home exchange, how it works, risks and rewards. When we first started toying with the idea this past winter, it seemed a bit scary: letting strangers you've never met live in your house, with access to everything you own. And I was definitely worried about getting catfished! What if we showed up in some town in the middle of nowhere and the house didn't exist? But as we dipped our toes into the world of home exchange, it started to seem more mainstream. less intimidating--and super exciting! <a href="http://homeexchange.com/">HomeExchange.com</a>, our preferred site, advertises 65,000 listings in 150 countries. Sometimes I like to just mess around with their map and dream up random possible adventures.<br />
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Having now completed one home exchange and in the midst of our second, I'm a total convert. Let me start to answer some questions and brag about my favorite things. This is what sold me:<br />
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1. <i>No money exchanges hands. </i>Really. You stay in their house, they stay in yours. Hotels are typically the biggest line item in a travel budget, so take that away and you can justify all sorts of spending on sights and restaurants and activities that would otherwise seem exorbitant.<br />
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2. <i>Sweet extras included. </i>Often, families are willing to exchange cars along with the house. Free rental car! And yes, we checked with our insurance company and our visiting families are totally covered. You'll find all sorts of other bonuses, too. We messaged with a woman who had a vacation home in the Alps, that would be available in addition to her city apartment. Some homes are on golf courses or vineyards...and all that that implies. In Sweden, we got a <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.fr/2015/07/sweden-part-three-on-boat.html">boat</a>.<br />
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3. <i>Setup for kids. </i>Sharing hotel rooms with kids can be painful (when the baby goes to bed, everyone goes to bed). You can get more space with an <a href="https://www.airbnb.com/">AirBnB</a>, but with real homes you get real stuff. Since we've exchanged with families, we've gotten houses stocked with toys, trampolines, swingsets, and more. Jack gets excited about his new room, decorated with bright colors and a canopy on the bed. Even though their kids are a bit older, both host families have arranged for cribs, high chairs, and car seats so that we are comfortable and equipped when we arrive (and can travel lightly). <br />
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Are you sold yet? In the next post I'll share more about the best surprises and biggest perks I've found along the way.<br />
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<br />Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-35858802891582255502015-08-05T16:26:00.000-04:002015-08-05T16:30:01.149-04:00France, Part 1: Where We Arrive and Eat<i>This post may not be suitable for vegetarians.</i><br />
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I realized my mistake as soon as I sat down and read the recipe, really translating the verbs. "Decoupez le lapin a l'aide d'un hachoir de menage...si vous n'etes pas expert, demandez a votre fournisseur de le faire pour vous." Huh. I had just bought a whole rabbit at Nogent-sur-Marne's buzzing Saturday market, remembering a picture in <i>Bocuse dans Votre Cuisine</i> (our French host family owns a copy I've been reading, signed by the master himself!). The butcher had offered to cut it up for me--which according to Bocuse was just what I should have done--but I'd waved him off, somehow imagining a whole roast rabbit that you carve up after roasting like a turkey. But home butchering via cleaver? I hadn't even been able to find a sharp knife in the kitchen yet!<br />
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So first I panicked, and put off the rabbit dinner for another night. I needed to really psych myself up for this. The next afternoon I googled it and found a plethora of YouTube videos. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAFIGdRW27U">Southern Boy</a> said he hoped to inspire his viewers--and indeed I was! Off I went to the kitchen to lay out my knives and unwrap my rabbit, in tact with all of its parts. Jack stared at him/her: "Look at it's eyes!" And then, "It looks yummy!"<br />
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I'll fast forward here, but in the end I found myself with a <i>lapin decoupe </i>that Paul Bocuse would have found probably minimally acceptable. Total adrenaline rush! I was much more confident in the rest of the cooking process and plated a crowd-pleasing Lapin a la Moutarde for the family that night.<br />
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We've been in France a week now, in a fantastic house swap just on the edge of Paris, and I'm on a mission to immerse the family in French cuisine. So far that's meant cooking attempts at--in addition to the rabbit--magret de canard, cote d'agneau, croque madames, mousse au chocolat, and madeleines. This in addition to the intimate relationship we've developed with our local boulangerie and our crepe crawl through the city. I may need to buy larger pants soon.<br />
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Next on the culinary adventure list: wrangling the kids to a <a href="http://chezjanou.com/" target="_blank">bistro</a> we've been trying to get to since our honeymoon and finding the best macaron in the city.<br />
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<i>Find pictures from our French travels <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/webUpload?uname=116796782560285831809" target="_blank">here</a>.</i><br />
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<br />Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-69167422966005587332015-08-03T09:58:00.000-04:002015-08-03T10:03:41.068-04:00Freiburg, GermanyI didn't actually believe the children of Freiburg floated toy boats around the city via <i>baechle,</i> the streetside rivers. My mother had told me stories--this being her city, where she went to college and returns annually--but I thought for sure this was her rose-colored glasses, back in the day memory. But oh no: the baechle boats were everywhere! And it so happened that we were in town for the annual boat race.<br />
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This is no small deal. You have to register, then there is a race of three boats, followed by a nine-boat run. Local press covers the event. There are prizes and a winners' podium.<br />
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The suspense mounted as Jack and Charlie waited with their brand new baechle boats. 22, 23, 24...finally it was our boys' race and they got in position. Off they went! Very quickly the other racer's boat fell behind and it was just the Foster boys sailing to the finish line. As Charlie's boat eked past, I wondered how Jack would take being beaten by his baby brother. Luckily he quickly justified it: "Charlie was on my team."<br />
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The next race with nine boats was even more exciting, and though the boys didn't earn a spot on the podium, Jack left with nothing but pure joy and it was only the beginning of our baechle adventures: he insisted on sailing his boat wherever we walked throughout our stay.<br />
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Baechle boats were first on my mother's checklist, and she kept us happily busy from beer garden to market to beer garden. We climbed the tiny, windy staircase of the Muenster, where we could smell wurst grilling in the market all the way at the top. We ate wurst, schnitzel, spaetzle, and the real deal <i>Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte </i>black forest cherry cake. And we drank beer--even Jack, who we allowed his first taste. He was unimpressed, describing the taste as "seltzer with weird ingredients."<br />
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All the charming images my mother had painted for me: totally real. Everyone had a blast in Freiburg. And I've got to think that whatever fantasies my mother could have had about her grandsons' first visit to Freiburg were surpassed in this moment:<br />
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<i>Find more pictures from our Freiburg travels <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/FreiburgGermany">here</a>.</i>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-50536376976545517832015-07-30T08:06:00.000-04:002015-07-30T08:06:02.874-04:00Sweden, Part Four: Stockholm"What else? We came here for love."<br />
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I'd just asked Kenny from <a href="http://www.thegoodgringo.se/" target="_blank">The Good Gringo</a> what had brought these perfect American English speaking food truckers to Stockholm. They had independently moved to Sweden for their significant others and then met in a Swedish for immigrants language class. And logically...next step was to start a food truck selling tasty burritos at, among other Stockholm locales, <a href="http://www.hornstullsmarknad.se/" target="_blank">Hornstulls Marknad</a>: a vintage street market on summer Sundays. The food trucks were awesome--we also got a killer chicken and rice plate from <a href="http://www.funkychickenfoodtruck.se/" target="_blank">The Funky Chicken</a>--and the clothes and accessories on display would make for a dream shopping spree for any self-respecting hipster. More than a few items caught my eye, but no room in this traveler's suitcase.<br />
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We spent three days in Stockholm during our Swedish stay, and loved the hip vibe, beautiful architecture, charming canals, hidden beaches, funky subway stations, and kid-friendliness. (In one child changing room I saw a sign for where to pick up free diapers and wipes if you ran short!) I collected brochures for intriguing-sounding museums like the <a href="http://www.abbathemuseum.com/en" target="_blank">ABBA</a>, <a href="http://www.nobelmuseum.se/" target="_blank">Nobel, </a>and <a href="http://spritmuseum.se/" target="_blank">Museum of Spirits</a>, and would have loved to join the Swedes enjoying leisurely beverages on the water. But that's for next time, sans kiddos. Instead we shelled out $50 to visit the Junibacken, essentially an indoor playground most accurately described in our favorite TripAdvisor review as "<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g189852-d313576-r290436367-Junibacken-Stockholm.html#REVIEWS" target="_blank">Hell for adults, heaven for kids</a>." A much more pleasant experience was had at <a href="http://www.skansen.se/sv" target="_blank">Skansen</a>: a gigantic outdoor museum that combined zoo, history, gardens, and arcade. But one of our favorite activities was family workouts on the ubiquitous outdoor workout equipment scattered across the city.<br />
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Our last night in Sweden, we needed to stay close to the airport for a morning flight to Germany. So what better location than on an airplane hotel?<a href="http://www.jumbostay.com/" target="_blank"> Jumbo Stay </a>is a 747 converted to a hotel/hostel with basic rooms along the aisle and a fancy pilot's suite in the cockpit. The rooms are tiny but everything is immaculately clean and charmingly themed. And I can honestly say that of all the cramped sleeps I've had on red-eyes, this was by far the most comfortable.<br />
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<i>You can find more pictures from our Sweden travels <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/Sweden#" target="_blank">here</a>.</i>Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-62492942217912296082015-07-20T04:16:00.000-04:002015-07-20T04:38:42.232-04:00Sweden, Part Three: On the Boat<div>
Daniel from our exchange family had written that "it's not anything special or difficult about the boat" but that it would be easier for someone to show us than to write down instructions. So they showed Daniel's father who showed us...which turned out to be like a copy of a copy. Some details came through fuzzy. The fuzzy stuff was kind of critical for making the boat go.</div>
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We really wanted to take the boat out, but we also really wanted to not break the boat. Or get stranded on a remote island (see <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.se/2009/08/paranagua-brazil.html">Paranagua, Brazil</a>). We were not feeling our most confident selves as we headed to the dock with two kids and many life jackets. </div>
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There were no problems loading everyone in, replacing the engine cover, and untethering the boat. We got the red kill cord attached properly, and thanks to the YouTube videos we watched about outboard engines we were all over lowering the engine into the water. But then there was this throttle and lever and ignition and gas pump and switch...and there are a lot of permutations of putting those together. </div>
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We finally got the boat puttering and pulled away from the dock. Success! But as the engine gradually silenced so did the mood on board. We floated into a bank of lily pads. Jack started asking questions. Patrick began a tirade of regret: "I knew this would happen!" Even Charlie looked concerned. </div>
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But we couldn't let panic take over. Like any ship under fire (I presume), we jumped into action and took our posts. With some oar paddling, manual untangling, and new urgency/clarity on the engine start, we got ourselves back on open water and the motor humming a healthy and victorious symphony out into the lake. High fives all around! </div>
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That day we didn't venture far; we were pretty drained once the adrenaline-fueled euphoria wore off. But we were able to march to the dock with confidence for our next trip. The lake here is so pretty, dotted with an archipelago of mysterious islands. Our town Vrena's total population is around 600, so it is not often that we see another boat when we are out exploring. </div>
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During a picnic on a little blip of land that Jack dubbed "Foster Family Island", he trekked into the trees to make his own hiking trail. Upon his return, the parents dismissed his stories about scary noises from strange animals--we're talking about 1,000 square feet of island and a four-year-old with an active imagination. But when Patrick took a turn on Jack's Path he did indeed encounter two snakes. Jack was very pleased that he was right and his parents were wrong.</div>
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So maybe we need to brush up on some wilderness knowledge, but we are feeling pretty awesome about our boating skills these days.</div>
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<i><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/Sweden#">Click here</a> for more pictures from our Sweden travels.</i></div>
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Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-75486022319747420042015-07-18T17:01:00.002-04:002015-07-18T17:01:40.310-04:00Sweden, Part Two: The Eating EditionToday we celebrated Mr. Charlie's one-year birthday with local venison for dinner and a jordgubbstarta/cream cake with strawberries. Happy birthday to our littlest guy!<br />
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Jack was very complimentary of his father's master grilling and praised Charlie for his choice in cake. He was a pretty good sous-pastry chef, too. Jack has been a total culinary champ in Sweden--trying new foods and I think no *food-related* meltdowns so far.<br />
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Our home exchange family has directed us to all sorts of charming dining destinations we would never have found without them. We drove miles down back country roads to <a href="http://kvarnenekenas.blogg.se/">Ekenas Kvarn</a>, a cafe and antique shop with little tables set up on a riverbank and a resident bunny rabbit for the kids to enjoy. When I had to choose from the dozens of different cookies on offer, the owner directed me to a favorite cashew cookie, a surprising chili chocolate biscotti, and a "midnight inspiration" she was proud of.<br />
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In Vrena there is one cafe, <a href="http://www.pilgrimsbo.se/">Pilgrimsbo</a>, and we made plans to visit on one of the few days of the week it's open. Their specialty is cake in a cup: the blueberry was perfectly moist without being doughy and adorable in it's antique tea cup. We got their vegetarian sandwich with brie-like soft cheese, vanilla and rhubarb and gobbled it up. So unexpected and tasty!<br />
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While we certainly found pickled fish and other Swedish staples at these little cafes, we went for a really traditional Swedish smorgasbord at<a href="http://ambrosiarestaurang.se/"> Ambrosia Restaurang</a> in Nykoping. We got the isterband smoked sausage--they weren't kidding, we've never eaten something so smokey before--and the blood pudding served with lingonberries and bacon. The quantities were enormous, and of course supplemented with the smorgasbord salad bar and bread station. We had to roll out of there.<br />
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But one of the best things about this home exchange thing is having a real, equipped kitchen with spices, staples, and cookbooks to inspire. We pick up interesting ingredients at the grocer, farmer's market, or butcher, do some online research and translations (thanks, internet!) and put together some version of Swedish fare. The dinner of<a href="http://www.ica.se/recept/klassisk-artsoppa-och-pannkaksbakelse-632940/"> pea soup and pancakes</a> with cream and lingonberries (a Thursday thing apparently) is definitely going to be a keeper. I guess we'll be doing more grocery shopping at Ikea in the future.<br />
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Up next: what this family is doing in between meals.<br />
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<i><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/116796782560285831809/Sweden#">Click here</a> for more pictures from our Sweden travels.</i>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-82593241063127881082015-07-12T16:42:00.000-04:002015-07-12T16:43:04.392-04:00SwedenAlmost exactly six years since our our half-year honeymoon, we embark once again--this time with two kids in tow--for a great travel adventure. This time we'll be on the road for three months exploring Europe: Sweden, Germany, France and Italy are on the itinerary so far.<br />
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We'll be doing home exchanges for much of the trip, literally swapping houses with three families we've met online. So far, so great. Our Swedish family has been super hospitable and helpful, suggesting all sorts of hidden gems. And being a real home, the house is so much cozier and equipped than a vacation rental.<br />
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We'd like to welcome four-year-old Jack to the blog's authorship. To kick us off, an interview with Jack about his travel observations so far.<br />
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Katrina: What did we do to start our trip?<br />
Jack: We started our trip with going on a plane. It was a long time to get there. We had to stop in Iceland because Europe is so far. Then we got on another plane and flew to Sweden.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<i>Actually, we started our trip with a train ride from Sharon to Boston. Then the Silver Line to Logan Airport. Two flights later we took a train from Arlanda into Stockholm and had a few hours to kill before a train to Nykoping, where we were picked up and driven to our home in Vrena. Phew! </i><br />
<br />
Katrina: What was the first thing we did in Sweden?<br />
Jack: I went for a nap.<br />
<br />
<i>Jack was super pumped to stay up the whole night. By Stockholm, we had a preview of what drunk Jack is going to be like: staggering around, talking nonsense, and having giggle fits. On our last train ride he was talking one minute and collapsed into a coma the next. We had to push him off the train in Nykoping and into the car, where he had the first nuclear meltdown of the trip.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<i><br /></i>
<i>To be fair, he isn't the only one who collapsed on the train...</i><br />
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<br />
Katrina: What have been your favorite things we've eaten so far?<br />
Jack: My favorite thing was drinking that strawberry juice and eating the best cheese ever. I had waffles with a brownie and ice cream. It tasted good. We had some honey strawberries at the restaurant and I said, "Why didn't we get some at the store to eat some at home?"<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>One of Patrick's favorite things to do when traveling is hitting the grocery store. With a real kitchen at our disposal, we went on a total shopping spree to stock up on staples and discover local favorites. Gardsost, aka "the best cheese ever", was a huge hit. We've also been eating wild boar--smoked, sausaged, and loined--from Vrena Vilt, our local game butcher.</i><i> </i><br />
<br />
Katrina: What kind of activities did we do?<br />
Jack: We have watched TV, played video games, we went on a hike, we played disc golf, We did the pirate ship, I went on the swing and said I don't want to fall. I went in the trampoline and I was the goalie and I won. And I went on Daddy's team and we won the game.<br />
<br />
<i>A huge benefit of home exchange: the house comes stocked with kids' stuff. Jack has discovered video games through our exchange family's Wii and jumped himself silly on the huge trampoline in the backyard. Charlie is already honing his foosball skills.</i><br />
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<br />
Katrina: What adventure did we have yesterday on the boat?<br />
Jack: We had a big big adventure and I put my hand in the water and made hand prints. And Daddy got worried and he got a time out. We sailed the boat. And we couldn't fix the boat at the beginning. We went through the sticks at the beginning and at the end. We got the boat working. We had a good time.<br />
<br />
<i>Our home comes with a boat! Which we are really excited about now that we figured out how to work it. </i><br />
<br />
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<br />
Katrina: What was the funniest thing that happened?<br />
Jack: Remember you spit the tomatoes out?<br />
<br />
<i>I guess you had to be there.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
We're here in Sweden for another two weeks. What shouldn't we miss?Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-16424775150841143062013-02-18T16:05:00.001-05:002013-02-18T16:05:51.581-05:00Japan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeh73gW8i7xntC4Zc1n6BjsE1mFspin0gSyzGm3_4RLQGcECPDwR6cJloUHk3LbYtWKUBp288G8GpWWY2ZTP-YKygxN1KkwLz1nEvBm3hhKr5MNjLGxjpnPrhlIFRNcvCNSD1VkRQ_wdn/s1600/DSC06675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeh73gW8i7xntC4Zc1n6BjsE1mFspin0gSyzGm3_4RLQGcECPDwR6cJloUHk3LbYtWKUBp288G8GpWWY2ZTP-YKygxN1KkwLz1nEvBm3hhKr5MNjLGxjpnPrhlIFRNcvCNSD1VkRQ_wdn/s200/DSC06675.JPG" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">No Uno House!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span id="internal-source-marker_0.5212186788600901" style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
loved Japan when we visited the first time in <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2009/10/tokyo-japan.html" target="_blank">October 2009</a> so we knew at some point a return trip would be in order. This time we
were excited to be free of the $60/day budget from our honeymoon trip.
No nights on the street during typhoons, no subsisting only on bowls of
cheap ramen, and no Uno House! This time we were going to buy a rail
pass to explore more cities, stay in interesting hotels, and eat a whole
lot more sushi.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
were also able to spend a little more per day while we were in Japan
this time around because we were flying for free. Since the long term
solvency of American Airlines seemed to be in doubt, we decided to cash
in our frequent flyer miles we’d slowly been accruing one credit card
purchase at a time. We considered a few destinations in Asia to visit
using the miles but what finally sold us on Japan was the new nonstop Boston-Tokyo route on Japan
Airlines (part of the <a href="http://www.oneworld.com/" target="_blank">OneWorld</a> alliance with American Airlines). No connections plus flying on one of the few new Boeing 787 dreamliners in service? Sold! If we
had known how many <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/17/business/faa-orders-grounding-of-us-operated-boeing-787s.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0" target="_blank">mechanical issues</a> the 787’s would eventually have we undoubtedly would have been far less eager but that is a different story
probably not for a different day.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Upon arrival</span> in the land of the rising sun we
planned to stay in Tokyo for just a night, so we went with
our reliable standby: the <a href="http://www.oakhotel.co.jp/english/" target="_blank">Oak Hotel</a> in Ueno. Not only is Ueno familiar
but it is also one of the easiest Tokyo neighborhoods to reach from Narita Airport via the
<a href="http://www.keisei.co.jp/keisei/tetudou/skyliner/us/" target="_blank">Keisei Skyliner</a>. At about $25 one way the Skyliner is certainly a little pricey, but the ride is super comfy and takes half the time of most other options. Once in Ueno, we dropped off our bags in our tiny, spotless room,
found some street yakatori, conveyer belt sushi, and had a scenic nightcap at the <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/travel/guides/asia/japan/tokyo/24052/sky-room/nightlife-detail.html" target="_blank">Sky Room</a> of the Asahi Brewery before finally hitting the jetlag wall. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
next morning we put our JR Rail Passes to immediate use and headed to Kinosaki. We took a big fancy shinkansen (bullet train) filled with businessmen to Kyoto
and then transferred to the regional line filled with elderly men and
women delighted to be off for a weekend getaway. As they chattered
excitedly and snacked nonstop, all we could think was that we were about
to see all these people naked.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXVjiGaOJVMbzps_tyQOFPgB_OpdT-P8uqSUrf_pU1a3UitxXQ49czh0koPOedm1jw5LeolicU1X21zYyqhRrHbROAL0HHsHZl8Nj2T647fAj9E33tkqDqvC8XN2fYLyLmqxbeMDr6er-/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXVjiGaOJVMbzps_tyQOFPgB_OpdT-P8uqSUrf_pU1a3UitxXQ49czh0koPOedm1jw5LeolicU1X21zYyqhRrHbROAL0HHsHZl8Nj2T647fAj9E33tkqDqvC8XN2fYLyLmqxbeMDr6er-/s200/IMG_1144.JPG" width="150" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Katrina ready to spa</span><b><br /></b></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Kinosaki
is a wonderful little town on the Sea of Japan that has made its mark
due to the natural hot springs (onsen) it sits upon. The whole place is a
shrine to bathing and relaxation, and visitors spend their days hopping through town
from one onsen to the next in their <a href="http://yukata/" target="_blank">yukata</a> (robes) and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geta_%28footwear%29" target="_blank">geta</a> (sandals). Kinosaki is a bonafide
tourist destination for Japanese folks from other parts of the country,
but buzz regarding the steamy paradise hasn’t seemed to have traveled too far beyond that. English is scarce
and we encountered only one other westerner during our stay. Which
made it awesome. Though there was certainly a language and cultural
barrier, the people in Kinosaki warmly welcomed us to their onsen retreat.
One girls-getaway group even stopped Katrina on the street and insisted
on fixing some faux-pas that she’d committed when tying her robe. Since
Katrina clearly couldn’t understand their Japanese instructions they surrounded her
and took it upon themselves to redress her from top to toe. Extreme
makeover flash mob edition!</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At
the onsens, the protocol is that women and men are immediately dispatched to their private side of the spa building. You then undress and enter a
room with a bath in the middle and little wash stations scattered along the walls. Before entering the steaming waters for a soak it is required that you pull up a stool at a wash station to thoroughly scrub head to toe with soap and then rinse. Once in the bath it is so hot that you
can only withstand 15 minutes before you hop out and find another bath,
steam room, or sauna if the spa offers those amenities. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When you are
done you dry off, redress, and head to the next spa. </span>Our personal favorite w</span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ere</span></span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> the rotenburos, or outdoor baths. Though it was winter the transition from the chilled December air (naked mind you) made the baths even more inviting, especially coupled with the atmosphere of babbling waterfalls and an occasional snowflake.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">One
of our favorite parts of Kinosaki was staying at <a href="http://www.japaneseguesthouses.com/db/kinosaki/tsutaya.htm" target="_blank">Tsutaya Ryokan</a>. We had
a beautiful, traditional Japanese room with tatami mat floors and futons laid out for us to sleep on nightly. The highlight of our stay was the elaborate private meals
prepared for us every morning and evening. </span></b></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_scp5ujjk6Lm7v4RBNkB9_bhCoL8GYnvmgBJ46KVlKRqPwGqqpDaAXJ6nHdrNUVR_8wN4JaBxf5CxBwe7Z7uiN6wRDX5NZ96IH5uewXn3CEMzdiihGXyZ1QHtWz38hKo3C_cOt1PR3aFV/s1600/IMG_1108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_scp5ujjk6Lm7v4RBNkB9_bhCoL8GYnvmgBJ46KVlKRqPwGqqpDaAXJ6nHdrNUVR_8wN4JaBxf5CxBwe7Z7uiN6wRDX5NZ96IH5uewXn3CEMzdiihGXyZ1QHtWz38hKo3C_cOt1PR3aFV/s320/IMG_1108.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Patrick digs in</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b> </b></span></span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">must </span></span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">have been at least 10 separate dishes at
every meal--not all entirely identifiable, but each prepared elegantly. They absolutely took care of us at every turn, especially during </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">the crab feast. Winter in Kinosaki is crab season and a visit to the town is not complete without enjoying crab fresh from the Sea of Japan. In traditional Japanese fashion this involved enjoying every last bit of the delectable crab, from the mouth-watering crab meat right down to homemade udon noodles and rice immersed in the crab broth. We were eating crab for hours. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After
two days we were feeling incredibly clean and relaxed, so we hopped
aboard a train south to Okayama. Best known, at least to the Japanese, as the setting for the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Momotar%C5%8D" target="_blank">Momotaro</a> folktale, Okayama could be easily overlooked as one whizzes by on the shinkansen to and from nearby Osaka. The immediate draw for us was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Korakuen</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, one of Japan’s three most beautiful gardens. Though winter is probably not Korakuen at its best, it was still lovely in all its precisely manicured
glory. One could easily spend an entire day roaming the serene grounds, occasionally snacking on kibidango for fuel. Kibidango you ask? This </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">peach-flavored mochi-like
confection is what the aforementioned Momotaro, or literally translated, Peach Boy, used for sustenance during his epic quest against a band of demons. So whether it's vanquishing villians or perusing plum trees, kibidango is surely the way to go. </span></b></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTB_4u4VCVTwfjVSDNTHdCWGfNXtQIV20PpjfqVJ0n2Rlj_k99h3hKMNUSdp4Gd7BzrZ98bas7kguMJiqE-UhWncqtjAg4SY18r23Usgsgu27bfEV5VEMU__rSfJdY_Y66JZ7L89_MG5P/s1600/IMG_1156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTB_4u4VCVTwfjVSDNTHdCWGfNXtQIV20PpjfqVJ0n2Rlj_k99h3hKMNUSdp4Gd7BzrZ98bas7kguMJiqE-UhWncqtjAg4SY18r23Usgsgu27bfEV5VEMU__rSfJdY_Y66JZ7L89_MG5P/s320/IMG_1156.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Korakuen</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">While in Okayama we
also ate delicious ramen at Tori Soba
and had an awesome yakiniku experience--where you grill your own meat
at the table--at Ichi Ban Kan. We found Ichi Ban Kan when we
were walking down a dark side street and noticed it first
for its intoxicating meat aroma and second because it was the first full
restaurant we had seen all night. When we walked in they immediately
provided us with a trash
bag to protect our jackets from the smoke-filled air. We were sat next
to a table of boisterous and red-faced businessmen who had clearly been
eating (and drinking) there for a while. Then the challenge of the menu:
all Japanese and no pictures. Our waiter found the one person on staff
who spoke some English, who then helped us order with descriptions like
“gentle taste”. Beef and pork is what we think we ended up with, though we are not sure
about that. However, we are sure whatever we ate was absolutely delicious!</span> </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLSw0waGqWy7jFOuWs_g-9jFJFvbFA4LcVml-35qWfd8ywuW5PlmszBFcih8F_2QHk9Mu59r57SwRdWTbQ_GKuYM8Ov2XsDNUMv_3_4Hir9jFdbfg-cB4uqkMPhM4oNhEOolx9DixlmBm/s1600/IMG_1245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLSw0waGqWy7jFOuWs_g-9jFJFvbFA4LcVml-35qWfd8ywuW5PlmszBFcih8F_2QHk9Mu59r57SwRdWTbQ_GKuYM8Ov2XsDNUMv_3_4Hir9jFdbfg-cB4uqkMPhM4oNhEOolx9DixlmBm/s200/IMG_1245.JPG" width="200" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Cycling the Kibi Plain</span><b><br /></b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
spent a second day in Okayama bicycling through the nearby Kibiji District. It
really was a fantastic way to see the Japanese countryside in a way we couldn’t appreciate chugging through on the train. Our route took us
through endless rice fields to several Buddhist shrines and a gigantic
pagoda--and Patrick managed to stay upright nearly the entire time! That crash course a few years back in <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2009/09/mendoza-argentina.html" target="_blank">Argentina </a>really paid off. The upside of our journey was we had the
route entirely to ourselves but this was mainly due to the downside- it was super cold and windy. By the time we got to the end of the route we’d turned
into popsicles. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Finding
ourselves with a few unplanned hours and armed with our rail passes, we
decided to check out the nearby town of Kurashiki, famed for its historic mercantile quarter. About half an hour later
we’d determined that historic mercantilism wasn't our thing so we got back on the train
and this time took a shinkansen down to Hiroshima. Though we only had a few hours that was plenty of time to hop on the streetcar and pay a visit to the A-Bomb Dome and Peace Memorial Park. Both sites were incredibly moving, especially experiencing them along side Japanese school groups as they paid homage to their fallen ancestors. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGzl966F_1ugEXc4hnnN-_roEC5CuMaLNDkAVvAJw71wiAuyNDITvTpBJgdruLFktx6G3EBs00Y5eAakUbWZiYGcRPaUk7IMkb__kaciUJ1y4-Bmk5Ir1SKBBka2z5XWOntJ3u5OyYHbt/s1600/IMG_1301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGzl966F_1ugEXc4hnnN-_roEC5CuMaLNDkAVvAJw71wiAuyNDITvTpBJgdruLFktx6G3EBs00Y5eAakUbWZiYGcRPaUk7IMkb__kaciUJ1y4-Bmk5Ir1SKBBka2z5XWOntJ3u5OyYHbt/s200/IMG_1301.JPG" width="149" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Okunoin</span></b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Our
next stop on our tour through Japan was Mount Koya: the world
headquarters for the Shingon sect of Buddhism. This small town nestled in the
mountains is made up almost entirely of monks and temples and feels
about a million miles away from modern civilization. Upon arriving we
took a walk through the darkening woods of Okunoin, a massive ancient cemetery that serves as a prologue of sorts for the main attraction- the mausoleum of Kobo-Daishi, the founder of
Shingon Buddhism. Born in 774, it is believed that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Kobo-Daishi never actually passed away but rather sits in an eternal state of meditation in the mausoleum. As we departed</span> the grounds a thick mist danced with the departing sun's rays. A more mystical setting we cannot remember.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Besides ancient cemeteries and shrines Mount Koya is known for its countless Buddhist temples that also serve as lodging for pilgrims and other guests like us! </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We booked our stay at </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.japaneseguesthouses.com/db/mount_koya/shojoshinin.htm" target="_blank">Shojoshin-in</a></span> rather easily through <a href="http://www.japaneseguesthouses.com/index.htm" target="_blank">Japanese Guest House</a><a href="http://www.japaneseguesthouses.com/index.htm" target="_blank">s</a> but since we hadn't communicated directly with the temple we weren't quite sure what to expect upon arrival. Pretty quickly we learned that we were in fact honored guests</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. We </span>were warmly welcomed by a soft-spoken, exceedingly polite
monk who acted as the host for our stay. The monks served us an elaborate vegan dinner and upon
returning to our rooms hot water bottles had been snuggled into our
bedding. We were invited to join them for morning prayer and they even
provided space heaters and optional benches for us visitors. The monks
themselves braved the cold and you could see puffs of their breath with
every chant. Katrina wanted to at least kneel on the ground like the
monks and learned that it is not as easy as it looks. When it was time to
go she needed a few extra minutes to get feeling back in her legs before
hobbling back to our room, and even nursed a prayer injury on her foot
for a few more days. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Later
that day we traveled back down the snowy mountain to Osaka, and once we
arrived it was nearly impossible to imagine that Mount Koya existed in
parallel to this buzzing city. There were <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>s</b></span>kyscrapers, flashing lights, and miles
of shopping from international names like Louis Vuitton to local
specialties like “Womb”--unexpectedly more for the Abercrombie and Fitch
clientele than Pea in the Pod shoppers. We browsed shops full of colorful wigs
and santa costumes. We ran into a candidate campaigning for the upcoming
election. But after the sun set was when the fun really began.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As
a big fan of Vegas and all things gambling, Patrick was dying to hit
the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pachinko" target="_blank">pachinko</a> parlors. Pachinko is somewhat similar to slot machines but
there is a small degree of actual skill involved- guiding tiny silver balls into an incrementally less tiny hole. He put in 500 Yen and
almost instantly lost it all. Then it was Katrina’s turn. She deftly maneuvered those metallic spheres to their home initiaiting all sorts of lights, music and announcements of
“super lucky”. In the span of 15 minutes Katrina had seemingly turned 500 Yen into 3000 Yen. We were so
excited to cash out! </span></b></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGKd2GqPmHUUPdMPvWA7wra1XyBRN6zNzd8DC1palULkWnvm_pkP76aOMBdsoGuPs4cbJlcWOJGuU8doPVFqbiMeVuAxuKhO6I9lqxJngOnfcuKZtZDMF9UPeeAJ2CqhSX-VCLDGlS_LN/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGKd2GqPmHUUPdMPvWA7wra1XyBRN6zNzd8DC1palULkWnvm_pkP76aOMBdsoGuPs4cbJlcWOJGuU8doPVFqbiMeVuAxuKhO6I9lqxJngOnfcuKZtZDMF9UPeeAJ2CqhSX-VCLDGlS_LN/s320/IMG_1400.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Katrina shows Patrick how it's done</span><b><br /></b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">However when we brought our receipt to the Chuck E Cheese-like
prize area the cashier took a look at our stated winnings and
pointed us to a selection of various trinkets and a shelf of uncooled cans of beer to choose from as our
prize. Crestfallen, Katrina selected a room temperature Asahi and as the cashier placed
it in a bag he also handed us bars of metal wrapped in paper. Somewhat confused as to what to do with said metal, we were
immediately escorted outside to a small window where a hand shot out.
Our chaperone placed down the metal bars and suddenly appeared 3000 Yen. Voila!
Turns out gambling is illegal in Japan so this elaborate scheme was
invented to circumvent the law. Slightly crazy, yes. But totally
awesome.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">With
our winnings burning a hole in our pockets and fueled by the now surprisingly refreshing warm beer, we made a beeline to a
karaoke parlor to book a room. In Japan they don’t make you embarrass
yourself in front of strangers, just your friends (think <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0335266/" target="_blank">Lost in Translation</a>). When asked for how long we’d like to book the room,
Patrick responded two hours--which Katrina thought was crazy! How would
we even fill an hour with just the two of us singing to each other? But
once we got singing (and calling for more food and drinks on our direct
phone line to the kitchen) there was no stopping us. Over three hours
and four renditions of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXlnMveRt-Y" target="_blank">Summer Nights</a> later, we had to tear ourselves
away.</span></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-6YZNqAhI5WchhGYrRBWc46G4Rn8dxCN3UWbRObWBrl6o5TIjNl6tQEd0Joq3WwRrhaikqKD16oitqRSludfk1zusJPh68QG_sN2VfdWzHhWbB21ihyphenhyphentlz0fsfE7zRugX8CK_WFH_9z5/s1600/IMG_1358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-6YZNqAhI5WchhGYrRBWc46G4Rn8dxCN3UWbRObWBrl6o5TIjNl6tQEd0Joq3WwRrhaikqKD16oitqRSludfk1zusJPh68QG_sN2VfdWzHhWbB21ihyphenhyphentlz0fsfE7zRugX8CK_WFH_9z5/s200/IMG_1358.JPG" width="149" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Katrina's Capsule</span><b><br /></b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That
night we slept in private pods at</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> <a href="http://www.asahiplaza.co.jp/capcel/english.html" target="_blank">Asahi Plaza Shinsaibashi</a>, a capsule hotel. Basically a
modern version of a hostel, each guest is assigned a private pod with
its own lighting and TV with shared bathroom and sauna facilities. In
effect a very novel way to provide quality, inexpensive lodging, but
hard to get over that it looks like where they keep the dead bodies on
Law and Order.</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When
we were researching our trip to Japan, we were delighted to discover
that the birthplace of instant ramen was located just outside Osaka. In
fact we might have planned around that. The next day we traveled to Osaka's northern suburbs to visit the <a href="http://www.instantramen-museum.jp/index.html" target="_blank">Momofuku Ando Instant Ramen Museum</a>. After wandering through an
unassuming residential neighborhood we knew we were in the right place when we stumbled upon a statue of Momofuku Ando himself, inventor of instant ramen, standing on
a giant stone Cup Noodles! </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Inside,
we learned that this museum was built on the very site where Momofuku
Ando first invented instant ramen. Hundreds of historical <a href="http://www.nissinfoods.com/cupnoodles/" target="_blank">Cup Noodles</a>
containers lined the walls and a map showed annual consumption of
instant ramen around the world. There were some real surprises--we’re
looking at you 1.4 billion-worth Nigeria. But the main attraction was
the “My Cup Noodle Factory” where we got to design our own flavor from
14 optional ingredients, decorate our own cup, and they sealed and
vacuum packed the product for us to take home! There was also a class on
making your own instant ramen from scratch, but you have to sign up
weeks ahead of time and we missed that memo. We won’t make that mistake
next time!</span></b></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2HFPXx8aieKquDIe-_e4seAOc0VhWFnBBQW3UhEpyCGgYhRGMitxyciEwoDYOefaDkuKZ2v7dBOM4TStartlTKKie7mVqZnQKKx4aYzs-jloCCYwWA5Sef4aFkekLnN-FmfnaVxqSbph/s1600/IMG_1420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2HFPXx8aieKquDIe-_e4seAOc0VhWFnBBQW3UhEpyCGgYhRGMitxyciEwoDYOefaDkuKZ2v7dBOM4TStartlTKKie7mVqZnQKKx4aYzs-jloCCYwWA5Sef4aFkekLnN-FmfnaVxqSbph/s320/IMG_1420.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Patrick makes his Cup Noodles</span><b><br /></b></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That
night we took the bullet train back up to Tokyo to spend our last night
before our flight home to Boston. During the trip we’d already stayed
in a traditional ryokan, business hotel, Buddhist temple, and capsules.
What was left? A love hotel! These establishments specialize in hourly
stays in themed rooms during the day for couples looking for some
privacy. Since night time is their slow time they offer affordable
rates if you check in after 10pm. We knew we’d found Tokyo’s “Love Hotel
Hill” when Patrick was solicited while Katrina checked out a store. </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
scoped out a few places and were disappointed not to find a really
over-the-top themed place (we’d read about jungles, supply closets, and
outer space). Eventually we settled on a colorful French-designed room selected
from a touch screen computer menu in the lobby of one of the dozens of establishments on the hill. No staff in sight--discretion is key.
We got a ticket with the room number and found it on the second floor. </span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">We </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">cautiously</span></span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> opened the door to find a tiny vestibule with a vending
machine-like ticket dispenser. The real room door was just on the other side.
Unfortunately, zero English. Determined, we left our luggage in the hall and spent close to 10 minutes massaging the machine with random button sequences and the occasional 1,000 Yen note. To our delight our
request was finally processed and the room lights turned on. </span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But t</span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">o our dismay we hear</span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">d </span></span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">the first
door immediately lock behind us. We were trapped, and even worse our luggage was still in the hallway. We started frantically
pressing buttons once again until the door unlocked. Whew, that was close. But then the lights
turned off and a minute later the phone started ringing. The genial voice on the other end was surprised w</span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">e <span style="font-size: x-small;">had finished <span style="font-size: x-small;">so qu<span style="font-size: x-small;">ickly...tur<span style="font-size: x-small;">ns out we <span style="font-size: x-small;">had checked out!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> After much discussion they were
able to reactivate our room and explain that we were locked in until we
checked out. We're not sure why the Japanese tryst-ers prefer to be
trapped in their love nests, but we were just happy to finally be safe
and sound in our room.</span></b><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span>Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-85076607211362057942013-01-09T12:08:00.000-05:002013-02-19T11:48:35.257-05:00Madrid, Spain
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.7286056072916836"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twenty Eight. The number of days in February, usually. The number of dominoes in a standard set. And in May 2012 it was the number of months since we had returned from our honeymoon in January 2010. At this point the travel bug was in full viral overload. It was time again for international travel.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Katrina was already heading abroad to visit Ghana as part of a work trip and since she was connecting in Europe it was the perfect opportunity for Patrick to meet her. There were about 10 possible connection cities and we settled on Madrid because... well, its Madrid. Who could say no to spending a week in spring under the warm Spanish sun noshing on all the jamon one could eat? Certainly not us.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was tough to say goodbye to our little man. Jack was just over one and neither of us had been away from him for more than 2 or 3 days. Luckily we had grandparents salivating at the opportunity to tend to his every need. And let’s be serious: he was 15 months old--he would've be happy with anyone with an arsenal of bananas and bubbles at their disposal.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first order of business once we rendezvous'd in Madrid was sleep.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Those transatlantic red-eyes are definitely a lot harder the older you get!<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>We made a quick stop at a restaurant across the street from our hotel, <a href="http://www.hostalgala.com/" target="_blank">Hostal Gala</a>, to chow on a few varieties of pig and then entered a blissful food/jet lag coma. A few hours later were were awoken by bustling activity in the square below. Though it was 11pm, we pulled ourselves together and hit the town ending up at one of the many nearby outdoor cafes for more ham (sensing a theme) and some ca</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ñas,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Madrid's ubiquitous offering of draft beer in a small glass to ensure that it is always crispy cold in the aforementioned Spanish sun.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Sightseeing-</span></span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our first destination while in Madrid was the beautiful Palacio Real.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Though the maze through the notable salons of the estate is typical palace fare we never grow tired of the opulent decor and and imagining extravagant soirees of yesteryear that took place in those very rooms. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCm9V46LmW9zBxPhx8L5q3MjmE-9g0pjh6fJYZ_Ez81Q2wJhhfQ2k_vDr18HkMrUiv86Rjl58hJHVPpxz54P1dXmaVNa-21VpSmvG3WoJAcUx-YCbzyEh4qZF2ImuU0lS8fdF1KlOQSm_O/s1600/IMG_0286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCm9V46LmW9zBxPhx8L5q3MjmE-9g0pjh6fJYZ_Ez81Q2wJhhfQ2k_vDr18HkMrUiv86Rjl58hJHVPpxz54P1dXmaVNa-21VpSmvG3WoJAcUx-YCbzyEh4qZF2ImuU0lS8fdF1KlOQSm_O/s1600/IMG_0286.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Almudena Cathedral</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next stop was the adjacent Almudena Cathedral where we stumbled upon a massive crowd waiting outside as recent La Liga champions Real Madrid blessed the trophy inside. Being a fan of European soccer, it was pretty amazing for Patrick to stumble upon the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo and Iker Casillas emerging from the cathedral to the roars and swoons of the adoring Madrile</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ñ</span>os. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The cathedral itself is definitely worth a visit but two notes of caution.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>First, if you are expecting an ancient, historic cathedral you are in the wrong place: Almudena was constructed in 1993. Second, there is a museum entrance directly across from the Palacio that charges admission which we thought was the only way in. It wasn’t until after we surveyed the museums many many vestments, and took in the view from the top of the Cathedral (Madrid does not need to be seen from above, sorry Madrid but you know it is true) that we realized that there is an entrance on the side of the cathedral that is free of admission charge. It is worth a look around just to see a modern take on a major Catholic cathedral, flat screens and all.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Madrid is home to impressive art museums including the <a href="http://www.museodelprado.es/en" target="_blank">Prado</a> and the <a href="http://www.museoreinasofia.es/index_en.html" target="_blank">Reina Sofia</a>. We’d read that the Prado rivals the Louvre and Hermitage as one of the best museums in the world--we’re not quite sure its on that level, but the collection is massive and they really do a wonderful job of highlighting Spanish artists like El Greco, Goya, and Velazquez. And if you go after 6pm, admission is free! The highlight for us was the collection of Goya's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Paintings" target="_blank">Black Paintings</a>. The Reina Sofia was a nice change of pace with its modern art collection--and seeing Picasso’s <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guernica_%28painting%29" target="_blank">Guernica</a></i> in person is worth the visit alone.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZB-QDHya74MXs_OOH56-8MpPUq5lZ09GCHUE66fQzRuXkK1eBnvpgwurSVdd5EsPKEGWw7bjnKRs9k3OrE66wX_WLYoJeQp_JmAgtXuEnahNDI73FtTlDeVQhmqhfRUnpKdIC_b5bsZJU/s1600/IMG_0344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZB-QDHya74MXs_OOH56-8MpPUq5lZ09GCHUE66fQzRuXkK1eBnvpgwurSVdd5EsPKEGWw7bjnKRs9k3OrE66wX_WLYoJeQp_JmAgtXuEnahNDI73FtTlDeVQhmqhfRUnpKdIC_b5bsZJU/s1600/IMG_0344.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">El Retiro</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A great spot to visit in conjunction with the museums is the nearby gem El Retiro. This beautiful park formerly belonged to the monarchy and was opened to the public in the 19th century. A highlight in the park is the Monument to Alphonso XII which is surrounded by a large pond by which you can explore via rowboat. We passed since it was midday and the pond has no shade and instead spent a good deal of our time in the Rosaleda, the park's large rose garden, which was cooler and much more fragrant.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another outdoor space worth a visit during a longer stay in Madrid is the Casa de Campo. Another piece of former royal land, in this case a hunting estate, the sprawling park is perfect if you are looking to escape the clatter of the city for a little bit. There is a metro stop on the outer edge of the park or better yet there is <a href="http://www.teleferico.com/" target="_blank">cable car</a>, that runs from the northwest part of Madrid to Casa de Campo. We are absolute suckers for cable cars and though this one was scary-old and had a cheesy narration during the ride it was fun nonetheless. There is an amazing network of trails both beaten and not that criss-cross the park, perfect for a day of bike riding or a long run as Patrick can attest. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are sorry to say we had a few sightseeing disappointments during our stay. The El Rastro open-air flea market is billed as a must-visit Sunday morning event, but aside from being massive (it really never seemed to end) we found the goods being sold lacked character and it would be more appropriate for getting your errands done than snagging unique fashion finds or artisan crafts. We woke up early that morning to make sure we could visit before catching our flight home...and rather wish we’d skipped it and maybe enjoyed a leisurely breakfast instead. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were also none too impressed by Puerta del Sol, a public square that came up in every guidebook. Now this place is probably fantastic when there is a major event or celebration going on. But when we visited it seemed like just a big open concrete space...kind of like City Hall Plaza in Boston. And if we ran into some tourists in Boston we certainly wouldn’t be like, “You know what you really need to check out, City Hall Plaza. Thank us later.” There are plenty of more alluring small plazas sprinkled throughout the city that would make a more pleasant oasis while sightseeing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Bullfight and Soccer Match-</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were lucky to be in town during the festival celebrating Madrid’s patron saint, San Isidro, which included bullfights every night at the famed Plaza de Toros. Patrick had perhaps what will go down as his best exchange in Spanish ever at the ticket office with two elderly Madrile</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ñ</span>os. We were a little concerned before we arrived in Madrid that the bullfights would be sold out, but as Patrick gathered there were tickets available for every night during the festival, albeit some nights were a lot more pricy than others. We opted for the cheapest ticket which was that evening's novillada bullfight, basically novice bullfighters and younger bulls. Despite this we feel like we got the full bullfight experience and even if we didn't it was our first so we didn't know any better. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In our research before the trip we had read that it was common for people to bring in their own picnics so before the bullfight we went to a local market to stock up on beer and ham. We also picked up a bag of sunflower seeds which we found were a very common snack among Spaniards at sporting events. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Both of us had our reservations about the bullfight....watching an animal be toyed with and subsequently killed seemed like an odd thing to pay to see. But once the event started those reservations were swept away by the artistry and grandeur of the event. On the docket were three bullfighters, or torreros, each fighting two bulls a piece. The first torrero was actually a torrera who was immediately overshadowed by the ineptitude of her henchmen, or whatever the technical term is for the bullfighters assistants. One had his cape stripped away by the bull and then was chased into the boards and nearly gored. After a quick leap to safety over the outer boards of the ring the bull then proceeded to roam menacingly around the ring with a unmistakeable aura that read “Who else wants a piece of this?”. It took 15 minutes for everything to sort itself out....eventually the bull was escorted off to what we hope is a lifetime of safety on a ranch to tell the tale to younger generations of bulls of the night it owned the ring at Plaza de Toros. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstSxYDdH1hgXF78Q3MCIsvlkjMlzRJTN7IJI-HaQiSxGqESUv8IgraF9E2bWXl3mbXSFNW_V2iwNaVeKNGKFCMUciv3-n_STel43YXIvMDiMSbnIAg2X5T_IbtEyEuvtexhlQyWNjQnHV/s1600/IMG_0302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstSxYDdH1hgXF78Q3MCIsvlkjMlzRJTN7IJI-HaQiSxGqESUv8IgraF9E2bWXl3mbXSFNW_V2iwNaVeKNGKFCMUciv3-n_STel43YXIvMDiMSbnIAg2X5T_IbtEyEuvtexhlQyWNjQnHV/s1600/IMG_0302.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Bullfight at Plaza de Toros</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next torrero and his team also didn’t seem up to snuff and as the second intermission began you could certainly tell the crowd was restless.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>We don't know the first thing about bullfighting (actually, yeah we do....don't get gored) but we could tell that the first two torreros had not performed well.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>We took some time to scarf down some food during the intermission and it quickly came to our attention that Patrick is not very graceful at tearing bread. Combined with a slight breeze from our right it resulted in a bread crumb shower for the women seated in front of us and they seemed none too pleased. Americans, right? The worst.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But ineptitude and crumbs were all soon forgotten as one Gonzalo Caballero took the stage for his Plaza de Toros debut. Decked out in a pristine white and cream traje de luces (“suit of lights”) Caballero’s boyish good looks and silky smooth moves quickly charmed the crowd including Katrina who was suddenly day dreaming of the life of a matador’s wife.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Caballero’s maneuvers were precise yet elegant and were met with crescendoing olés after each successful pass of the bull. Once the fervor had reached a peak he plunged his sword into the bull for the kill, the bull’s knees buckled and the matador’s attendants rushed in to finish the job as was needed for the previous two matadors. But Caballero knowingly waved them off....extended his arm towards the bull and performed some sort of voodoo mind trick that willed the bull to the ground and his ultimate demise. The triumphant matador took a victory lap around the ring collecting bouquets and women’s scarves with which he would swiftly wipe his glistening brow and return to his new devotees. A star had been born.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being Spain, Patrick was also very intent on taking in a soccer match while we were there. He was disappointed however to discover that the season for Spain's top soccer league, La Liga, ended the day we arrived. Determined Patrick scoured the internet for alternatives and found that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Segunda_Divisi%C3%B3n" target="_blank">Liga Adelante</a> was still in season. There are usually a number of teams in this league on the outskirts of Madrid, reachable by the suburban rail network. He settled on AD Alcorc</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ón and though the ticket prices were La Liga prices and the town itself didn't have much to offer, it was still an unforgettable experience as we sang and cheered with the faithful in the diehard fan section right behind the goal. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-San Isidro-</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdrGcQTp96DhBft01NWhyphenhyphenPSbOodJXJYsrjUUdCYxM00hi20ghtJx86zvK5CBOkX0SWcHKOI59_yn9ZG0AOyOqr1X7k5aDcK_LYGdE_sfykyvjzyBkBBgRat28JLukIs-KXHS8ok4R_IJx/s1600/At0xHd5CIAAUN9h.jpg+large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdrGcQTp96DhBft01NWhyphenhyphenPSbOodJXJYsrjUUdCYxM00hi20ghtJx86zvK5CBOkX0SWcHKOI59_yn9ZG0AOyOqr1X7k5aDcK_LYGdE_sfykyvjzyBkBBgRat28JLukIs-KXHS8ok4R_IJx/s1600/At0xHd5CIAAUN9h.jpg+large.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Jack in his best chulapo gear</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The actual saint day for the patron saint of Madrid, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isidore_the_Laborer" target="_blank">San Isidro</a> was one big party. Can’t say that we learned too much about San Isidro but we certainly enjoyed celebrating his sainthood. We started the day by enjoying some tapas on Plaza de Santa Ana, watching families emerge in their chulapo/a outfits, traditional Spanish clothes that are worn on special occasions. (We made sure to get Jack one before we left). After tapas we found a stage that was hosting concerts with traditional Spanish music and dancing. We sat back in the midday sun and enjoyed the entertainment as we sipped </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ca</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ñas</span> and our new favorite drink, tinto verano, which translates to ‘Summer Red Wine’. It is basically a quick and dirty sangria made of red wine, carbonated water and a sugary citrus element such as lemonade. Mighty refreshing on a hot day. Towards the end of the evening we were riding the metro and noticed the train was unusually crowded. Then we arrived at the Retiro stop and the train became unusually empty. We immediately remembered the old travel adage..."Follow the crowd", hopped off, and secured a prime spot at El Retiro for magnificent fireworks over the statue of Alfonso XII to cap off the day's festivities. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Toledo-</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Visiting Toledo is a popular day trip from Madrid...and for good reason. It’s just a half hour direct train from Atocha station to get to this fortified, hillside city full of history and charm. The cathedral is hands down the main attraction and for good reason. Upon entering this gothic marvel one is immediately taken a back by the sheer magnitude of everything inside. Though one could spend hours viewing the altarpiece alone make sure to save some time to explore the various chapels and other rooms as they all have remarkable pieces. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Toledo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toledo is also known for being the home of the painter El Greco during his later years and you can find his work scattered around town in the most unassuming places. Our favorite was the magnificent </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Burial_of_the_Count_of_Orgaz" target="_blank">Burial of the Count of Orgaz</a> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">housed in the Iglesia de Santo Tome. At night, Toledo transforms from a bustling tourist destination into a peaceful little town powered by the hum of the outdoor cafes situated in every nook and cranny of the maze of cobblestone streets. We stayed just one night at the well-located and very affordable <a href="http://www.hotelsantaisabeltoledo.com/" target="_blank">Santa Isabel Hotel</a>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apparently Toledo is known for its sword construction, so shops really push them as the must-have souvenir. Since we didn’t think we’d make it through airport security, and had no idea what one does with a souvenir sword, we opted for the #2 Toledo item, the Spanish-style almond confection Mazapan. Yum!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Eating-</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_oJoHgzDc6beMFsP5mnfycoOoGCkF2m1Q3vZf9DZJQn3mi_A2ypgse5wFnxLmE_RD04X2719b-ly7aklOiTyAbc-YFEajy7JBoH-qEGFY_M9jyMy-zPOB1tcZapPoSn8Yb3fViL76FKL/s1600/IMG_0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_oJoHgzDc6beMFsP5mnfycoOoGCkF2m1Q3vZf9DZJQn3mi_A2ypgse5wFnxLmE_RD04X2719b-ly7aklOiTyAbc-YFEajy7JBoH-qEGFY_M9jyMy-zPOB1tcZapPoSn8Yb3fViL76FKL/s1600/IMG_0332.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">La Latina Tapas</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now finely for the main attraction...food. La Latina is<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Madrid’s go-to tapas neighborhood, so we did it justice with a full-blown tapas crawl. One street in particular, Calle Cava Baja, is tapas joint after tapas joint. We spent two hours walking around, popping into places that were busy and interesting, and filling up on delicious morcillio, patatas bravas, croquettes, and other items whose identity we were unsure of now and then. Thinking we were fully satisfied we started back to our hotel, but 10 minutes later we found ourselves tempted by the <a href="http://www.mercadodesanmiguel.es/" target="_blank">Mercado de San Miguel</a>. The mercado, a modern indoor marketplace, hosts 15-20 vendors serving artisan treats from ham (of course) to flan and other sweets. We picked up some delectable ham chips and a local favorite, white anchovies.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For a lower key tapas experience, head to the <a href="http://www.laardosa.com/" target="_blank">Bodega De La Ardosa</a>: a tiny place on Calle de Colon serving up the best croquettes we had in Spain. If you can’t snag one of the handful of barrel tables in that tiny hole in the wall, walk a few blocks to <a href="http://www.lateral.com/" target="_blank">Lateral</a> for an expansive menu and chic ambiance. We strongly recommend the Pimientos del piquillo rellenos de carne.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another favorite stop of ours was the chain <a href="http://www.100montaditos.com/us/" target="_blank">Cervecería 100 Montaditos</a>, which serves a bevy of a little sandwiches, or montaditos, with basically any combination of fillings you can imagine. Add some papas fritas and one euro ca</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ñ</span>as and its the perfect place to finish off a long night of drinking and eating. Another great place to finish off the evening is at <a href="http://www.chocolateriasangines.com/Chocolateria_San_Gines/Bienvenidos_a_San_Gines.html" target="_blank">Chocolateria San Gimes</a>, just off Calle Mayor and down the block from a Montaditos; this place has specialized in serving creamy hot chocolate and churros since 1894. Definitely super touristy but super delicious nonetheless. And one final shout out to <a href="http://www.museodeljamon.es/madrid/?lang=en" target="_blank">Museo Del Jamon</a>--Madrid’s McDonald’s if you will. Here the value menu is a must: for a solitary euro you can get a full plate of ham or other tapas favorites. The place is called Museum of Ham...how can you go wrong?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One note of caution about restaurant dining: a lot of stuff closes early, even on the weekends. We were under the impression that Madrid was a 24-hour metropolis where the party never ends. We basically found the party ends unless you want to go to a club. On a Friday night around midnight, we were stunned to go from establishment to establishment that was either closed or closing, including Montaditos. Eventually we resorted to a charcuterie that was closing up shop for some ham and bread and a beer from a man hawking beers from plastic bags on the street. The bag beer was very satisfying though. Also the metro doesn’t run all night, we were lucky to catch the last train around 2am one night. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Accommodations-</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We spent most of our nights in Spain at <a href="http://www.hostalgala.com/" target="_blank">Hostal Gala</a>, an incredibly charming little place with big windows looking down on the small square below. This was a great location for sightseeing, eating, and generally accessing Madrid. Don't let the name fool you....all the rooms are private with a bathroom ensuite that has an awesome shower. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Plasma Floor at the Puerta America</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We also spent two nights at the very unique <a href="http://www.hoteles-silken.com/hotel-puerta-america-madrid/en/" target="_blank">Puerta America</a> design hotel thanks to <a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/02/travel-tip-tuesday-cracking-priceline.html">a successful priceline bid</a>. While further out of the city, it was fun to stay in these highly stylized rooms, each floor by a different designer. The elevator would open on one floor to white plastic hallways, the next to a lobby covered in lights. Our floor was 3D, reflective, geometric walls and the room shared the same theme.</span></span><br />
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Patrick and Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15438207071671209772noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-13808228357044890932010-07-02T13:05:00.002-04:002013-02-19T11:49:07.510-05:00Freelance Friday: Travels with Vivi, Cambridge Massachusetts<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/06/freelance-friday-travels-with-vivi.html">We last left off </a>when the family moved back to the United States from Germany...</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In Fort Sill, Oklahoma, George finished his course of duty with the military, and the family returned to his native Cambridge, Massachusetts, where George took a position as a librarian at Harvard’s Yenching Institute. They moved into an apartment in Hammond Street, a unique community of Harvard graduate students and employees, some with young families, and many with international backgrounds--all of them idealistic, intense, and politically engaged. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The stories of the life on Hammond Street are legendary – the mutual support in times of crisis, the wild and crazy parties, the amount of champagne consumed, the raucous meetings of EOS, Inc, (membership only open to those who do not live up to their potential), and the happy evenings sitting on the stoop with all the neighbors...the list goes on. The small apartment had also, again, become a haven for all who needed a place to stay – recent immigrants and visiting scholars from the Far East, partners during break-ups, children during family feuds, and of course a never-ending series of visiting friends and relations from Europe. Vivi kept the tradition of absolute hospitality alive, as she had learned and experienced herself in Japan. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The family eventually moved to a new Cambridge home: a coop in Putnam Avenue provided a similar community as the Hammond Street apartment. They soon became a drop-in center for the coop members, and were known for their readiness to provide an open ear to anyone, accompanied by a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, depending on the time of day. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last three years of Vivi’s life were affected by tragedies: In 2007, George died suddenly of a heart attack, on the day of their 61<sup>st</sup> (military) wedding anniversary. Later that same year, her oldest nephew sustained significant brain injury in an accident. One year later, her son Jan committed suicide. Meanwhile, it was apparent that Vivi was experiencing progressive stages of Alzheimer's. It is not clear how much she was able to really take in the extent of these sad events.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In her last year of life, she was cared for diligently by her many friends, who enabled her to stay in her house until her death. She enjoyed life to the last moment and reflected on how good it was. She passed away quietly on April 26<sup>th</sup>, the day of her 64<sup>th</sup> (church) wedding anniversary, thus bringing to an end a truly remarkable life.</span></span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This is the final installment from guest blogger (and Katrina's mom) Kerstin Potter. </i></span></span> </div>
Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-60981040679497564862010-06-21T09:14:00.000-04:002010-06-21T09:14:30.100-04:00Mailbag Monday: June 21, 2010<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b>One of the things that I also read was that you can find English speaking Russians waiting outside the Kremlin to be guides - less expensive. Did you see this? My question now is what did you do for visiting places in further out Moscow. That is Sparrow Hills, University, Izmaylovky Park, Gorky Park, Novodevichy Convent & Cemetary, Cathedral of Christ the Savior, any other suggestions? What is the best, most efficient, safest way to do those? Does the subway have English lettering to make that an option? Taxi? Hire a private car without a guide? Find a group tour at the hotel?</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><i>-Bruce S., Charlotte, NC USA</i></b></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We didn't notice English speaking guides outside the Kremilin but we wouldn't be surprised if there were a few. All the subway maps have the stops in both the Cyrillic and Roman characters so that made taking the subway a little easier and therefore that was our primary mode of transportation. The chaos of the subway and its beautiful stations are a sight in itself!<br />
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We actually walked to Cathedral of Christ the Savior from Red Square (took about half an hour) and then from there visited Park Iskusstv which is filled with sculptures and statues from the Soviet Era. Then basically across the street from there is Gorky Park which was entertaining enough but definitely could be skipped. There are two subway stops not too far from there including Park Kultury.<br />
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On a separate day we took the subway out to Novodevichy Convent & Cemetary and that was definitely worth the trip. Also make sure to visit the park outside the convent walls to the northwest....very pretty and peaceful. From there we walked back into the city along the Moscow river but it wasn't a very scenic walk.<br />
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Those were the major sights we saw outside the city center and overall we would say the subway is your most economical option for getting around.</span></span>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-39398998802376789962010-06-14T12:23:00.000-04:002010-06-14T12:23:37.285-04:00Mailbag Monday: June 14, 2010<div style="color: #e69138;"><b>We are planning a trip to Moscow and St. Pete in July and I was really curious about something. For central Moscow, do you REALLY need a guide. I've done my research and mapped out everywhere I want to go within walking distance of the Kremlin. The issue is that a Russian told me that you can't simply walk up to the Kremlin, St. Basil's, etc. pay your admission fee and enter. You cannot enter unless you are accompanied by a licensed tour guide or on an official group tour. It would make sense if they were trying to protect their tourism industry, but is this Russian misleading me to help out a tour operator friend? Or is it not required, but highly recommended? That is, you get to jump the line with a guide. Or can you simply walk up, pay and enter?</b></div><i><b><span style="color: #e69138;">-Bruce S., Charlotte, NC USA </span></b></i><br />
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<div>We did not have a guide for any of our time in Russia and did not have any issues accessing the sights. I don't think there are any situations where a guide is required. </div><div><br />
</div><div>As you mention below, tourists with guides are often able to jump lines so that is something to consider. I think the biggest challenge is that not many people speak English, and in our experience people were not really willing to try to communicate with us. So again, having a guide would certainly be an advantage in that regard.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The key to doing Russia independently is to do a lot of research ahead of time and map things out for yourself--which it sounds like you've already done. We think you should be fine without a guide!</div><div style="color: #e69138;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"><i style="color: #e69138;">You can send your own questions for the mailbag to </i><a href="mailto:patrinadoestheglobe@gmail.com">patrinadoestheglobe@gmail.com</a></span></span></div>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-38178013977936957882010-06-11T12:36:00.001-04:002010-07-02T13:06:23.591-04:00Freelance Friday: Travels with Vivi, a Young Family in Germany<div style="font-family: inherit;"><i><a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/06/freelance-friday-back-and-forth-across.html">We last left off</a> with with Vivi booking a cross-Atlantic passage to reunite the family with George, stationed in Germany...</i></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Germany, Vivi divided her time between George in Frankfurt and her mother and sister in Hamburg, taking the children along wherever she went. In 1955, her daughter Lynn was born. It soon became obvious that Lynn had Down Syndrome. There followed a difficult time during which George and Vivi tried a range of approaches and alternative “cures” to deal with the diagnosis. Meanwhile, their house became an open haven for the many friends and relatives displaced during this post-war time: Vivi’s mother moved in, as well as her uncle, including a number of his girl friends, as well as other friends in need of housing. While the children were being taken care of by the numerous house guests, Vivi and George, often accompanied by Vivi’s sister, went on adventurous camping trips through Greece, Spain, and France.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In 1957, orders came to return to the US, this time to Texas. In Fort Hood, Vivi became the center of the neighborhood social life. She especially cultivated friendships with new German wives, giving them support as they adjusted to life in the US. The prevalence of these friends was so high that her children thought German was the language spoken in Texas, and had no difficulty maintaining their language skills. Vivi also consciously promoted German traditions, such as songs, crafts, and holiday activities, as well as readings in German literature, in order to promote an awareness of what she considered “Culture”. Regular art evenings, during which all family members painted together, were also a part of this effort. It soon became clear that while her daughter improved her ballet, her son Jan had exceptional talent in art, a source of real pride for her.</span> </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two years later, the family was sent back to Germany, first to Schwaebish Gmuend, then to Bad Toelz in Bavaria. In this picturesque town with the backdrop of the Alps, the family tried to settle in once again. Meanwhile, the pressure of adjusting to life with a child with special needs was taking its toll. Vivi’s daughter Kerstin was sent to go to school in the north, living with Vivi’s big sister, and her son Jan was considered for placement in a boarding school. Meanwhile, orders came to return to the US, and the family traveled to Oklahoma, leaving Kerstin behind to complete her education in Germany.</span><br />
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</i></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-last-left-off-when-family-moved-back.html">Next up</a>, the family returns to George's native Cambridge, Massachusetts... </span></i></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></i></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">This is the fifth installment from guest blogger (and Katrina's mom) Kerstin Potter.</i></span>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-87454216959671742482010-06-08T20:35:00.001-04:002010-06-08T20:37:07.874-04:00Travel Tip Tuesday: Stashing Cash (and Other Valuables)<div>My dad's parents lived in New York City for as long as I knew them. They lived in a not so nice neighborhood in a building where Grandpa Peter was once mugged for his hearing aid in the main elevator. Grandma Margot was pretty savvy and developed a great system for storing her valuables in a sketchy environment: she carried her money about town in little pockets that she hand-sewed in her underwear. Margot carried a purse, of course, as well, but it was just a decoy. It was always empty.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I fully agree that when in unsafe or unfamiliar environments, it's best to keep your money close. I haven't gone quite as far as underwear pockets but every day of our trip I wore a passport holder filled with our money, credit cards, and (duh) passports diagonally across my body, under my shirt and bra, tucked in to the back of my pants. No one was going to be able to pull that thing off my shoulder or snip the string to allow my valuables to fall. Of course things get a little bit sweaty and gross, so it's good to keep at least the passport in a ziplock inside the pouch to keep it fresh and dry. But in six months on the road, we had zero pickpocket issues.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Side note: yes <i>I </i>wore the passport holder every single day. Neither I nor Patrick trusted him with custody of our valuables. </div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJF6mInzAXCnTXzePjBQRJCRWTDuZoXH-3Qy9KPa0W7d6YtLNbNQfIeGHzlEgIiSVSWBSi49XAA2CRvLBNuMJ4wlCnosZdSxdlKIK7FTJ3zgAV6DHAEfUPaJVXDt718ShyiBH6cp6YrV-P/s1600/brief-safe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJF6mInzAXCnTXzePjBQRJCRWTDuZoXH-3Qy9KPa0W7d6YtLNbNQfIeGHzlEgIiSVSWBSi49XAA2CRvLBNuMJ4wlCnosZdSxdlKIK7FTJ3zgAV6DHAEfUPaJVXDt718ShyiBH6cp6YrV-P/s320/brief-safe.jpg" /></a>But for those of you who really like the underwear idea, no reason not to go for it! Pull out that needle and thread! Or, take it to a whole 'nother level with the <a href="http://www.efindoutthetruth.com/Diversion_Safes.htm">underwear Diversion Safe</a>. These babies feature a secret velcro closure and "special marking<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">s" to deter thieves. As the website boasts, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">even the most hardened burglar or most curious snoop will 'skid' to a screeching halt"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pretty clever, but I'm not sure Grandma Margot would approve.</span></span></div><div><br />
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</div>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-69759757822086590062010-06-04T12:31:00.012-04:002010-06-11T12:44:44.007-04:00Freelance Friday: Travels with Vivi, Back and Forth Across the Pacific<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/05/freelance-friday-travels-with-vivi-love.html"><i>We last left off</i></a><i> with Vivi and George's wedding and the birth of their first daughter, Kerstin...</i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In 1949, George brought his new family back to the US, only to be shipped out immediately to Okinawa. Since the Korean War was going on, families were not allowed to follow. Vivi took the opportunity to book a passage to Germany, where she was reunited with her mother and sister and introduced them to her new daughter. Vivi’s 19 year-old brother had been killed on the Eastern front, and her step-father had not survived the war years in Germany. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, the Korean War ended and families were allowed to follow to Okinawa in 1951. After returning to the US, crossing the American continent in a train and booking a passage across the Pacific, the family was finally reunited. Here, the adventures continued, with numerous almost fatal outings on a de-commissioned PT boat, which George had acquired in the mean time, strandings on coral reefs, confrontations with pirates, and general post-war chaos. A year later, her son Jan was born. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">When orders came return to the US, George decided to sail his little family across the Pacific in the unreliable PT boat, but Vivi summarily refused and thus saved her family’s life. Back in the US, the family drove across the States the long way to get to the new assignment in Alabama; camping illegally in a reservation, running out of water the desert, and almost getting washed out to sea on a Florida beach. </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Alabama, the family lived in a one-room hovel with gun-toting young boys next door, threatening to shoot us for fun. Soon, George's unit was sent to Germany and while waiting to follow, Vivi moved her family out of the dangerous Alabama neighborhood into a relatively safe trailer park in New Jersey, living in a tiny Air Stream trailer. From here, Vivi undertook twice weekly trips into New York with her infant son on her arm to take her daughter to ballet lessons. These all-day trips involved several busses, subways and were a testimony to Vivi’s concern for her daughter’s education. With the beginning of winter, the quality of life in the unheated trailer began to deteriorate and all were suffering from colds and flu. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since no military order to follow to Germany was to be expected anytime soon, Vivi decided to take matters into her own hands and went to book a passage to Germany on her own. Since there was not a lot of money available, she met with the agent and booked a bunk for single passage. When that had been confirmed, she charmed the agent to let her take her little daughter along for the same price. When that had been ok’d, she admitted to having a very, very small additional child she needed to take along...at this point the agent threw up his hands and said “Just go!”</span> </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><a href="http://patrinadoestheglobe.blogspot.com/2010/06/freelance-friday-travels-with-vivi.html">Next up</a>, Vivi and George are reunited in Germany...</i></span> </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<i>This is the fourth installment from guest blogger (and Katrina's mom) Kerstin Potter.</i></span></div>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191508999358851615.post-41410294538676619402010-06-02T22:19:00.000-04:002010-06-02T22:19:08.575-04:00Where Next Wednesday: Lucerne, Switzerland<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUGuNhdvlJHoF48cFSeLXoHTt3LL0a0-MFedN2M46jwS0J3i61a6LqyLr7e9iIut0Am4CcvMZzeHAvtREX9f7qAg4p4qcgAIYcZcxMVCTFW42YET7fHrL-YvVqVexHOBGUmkH04JHtAhl/s1600/lucerne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUGuNhdvlJHoF48cFSeLXoHTt3LL0a0-MFedN2M46jwS0J3i61a6LqyLr7e9iIut0Am4CcvMZzeHAvtREX9f7qAg4p4qcgAIYcZcxMVCTFW42YET7fHrL-YvVqVexHOBGUmkH04JHtAhl/s400/lucerne.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Photos courtesy of</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><a href="http://lonelyplanet.com/" style="color: #caf99b; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Lonely Planet </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/" style="color: #caf99b; text-decoration: none;">Tripadvisor</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b>To Do List</b></span></b></span><br />
When we first opened up this contest, we were surprised to get so many votes for such a specific location. As opposed to sprawling Antarctica or the massive country of China, what do the 11 square miles of Lucerne have to offer? Apparently an utterly charming medieval city located on a picturesque lake surrounded by majestic mountains. Not too shabby.<br />
<ul><li>Old Town is the main attraction, with a labyrinth of little streets and squares and building murals abounding.</li>
<li>Or for a real puzzle, the <a href="http://www.gletschergarten.ch/en/main.html">Gletschergarten</a> (aka Glacier Garden, but doesn't it sound way more awesome in German?) has a mirror maze that sounds super fun! And also a park full of glacier potholes and scratches.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Ascend Mount Pilatus, the peak hovering over Lucerne, by either a four hour hike or a ride up the world's steepest cogwheel railway.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></li>
<li>Tour Lake Lucerne by steamboat.</li>
<li>Walk over Chapel Bridge, the oldest wooden bridge in Europe.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Visit Lion Monument, described by Mark Twain as "the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world."</span></li>
<li>The <a href="http://www.verkehrshaus.ch/">Swiss Transport Museum</a>, for lovers of all things trains, planes and automobiles.</li>
<li>The <a href="http://www.richard-wagner-museum.ch/en/index/index.php">Richard Wagner Museum</a>, for the music buffs.</li>
</ul></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138; font-weight: bold;">Yum</span></b></span><br />
Cheese and chocolate. Need we say more? We have it on good authority that Lucerne produces the best hot cocoa in the world.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138; font-weight: bold;">Get Me There</span></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;">There is no airport in Lucerne itself but the convenient Swiss Railway easily connects you to the major national hubs. Flights to Geneva or Zurich from Boston in September are currently going for $626 on <a href="http://www.united.com/">United</a>.<br />
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</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138; font-weight: bold;">Did You Know?</span></b></span></div></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;">In 1471 a Swiss chicken was found guilty of laying a brightly colored egg and it was burned at the stake.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138; font-weight: bold;">The Word</span></b></span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_181153570">Away Together </a></span><a href="http://away-together.com/2010/05/13/switzerland-first-day/">-</a> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The bridge leads to the Old Town square, full of Alpine architecture with flag-topped turrets and gold-rimmed clock faces that must have inspired the designers of Disneyland’s Fantasyland... </span></span> </i></div></div></div></div>Katrina Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00858475821274212564noreply@blogger.com0