Cruises can be expensive, and getting nickled-and-dimed for optional port excursions after paying for the initial cost of the cruise is about as fun as putting antibacterial gel in your eyes. So, a huge advantage of sailing with Regent Seven Seas is that you get unlimited free excursions–a wonderful value…unless the excursion ends up being a dud.
Taking a break from the rumbly jumbly ATV tour of St. Maarten.
On St. Maarten, Rick, Jackie, and I got an early start with an ATV ride. We roamed from the port to beaches of the nude and standard varieties along a sapphire blue waterfront on the opposite end of the island. The ride itself was mostly forgettable, except for the ringing in my ears from the noisy motors and numbness in my wrists from the iron grip I had on the shaky handlebars, both of which lingered for the rest of the day. The only real saving grace was that we hadn’t paid extra for the 3 hours of boredom.
Andy, on the other hand, had signed up for a morning sail: The America’s Cup Challenge. Actually, we had all signed up for the afternoon session, but since it was such a popular activity, the cruise ship scheduled an additional excursion for the morning. As an avid boatman (he has his captain’s license and regularly sails in the Puget Sound and wherever he can in Europe), Andy jumped at the opportunity to sail twice in one day.
And this was more than a ride on a boat. Participants would be temporary crew members. While no experience was necessary, being fit having good hearing would be a huge plus.
Getting our yacht and crew assignments.
In the afternoon, our family and about 40 of our fellow shipmates huddled around one of the instructors on the dock. He explained how this Challenge would work. Three magnificent yachts–Stars and Stripes, Canada II, and True North, all former competitors in the America’s Cup–would race one another, completing 4 circuits (imagine an aquatic racetrack). The first to cross the finish line wins. A professional crew of three would man each ship and would be in charge of skippering, calling out commands to us lowly deckhands, and making sure we didn’t injure ourselves.
The America’s Cup 12-meter Challenge in St. Maarten
I wanted Stars and Stripes, Dennis Connor’s former yacht and winner of two America’s Cups. In San Diego in the 80s, my hometown swelled with pride, watching S&S out-sail her competitors on our home turf (or surf, if you will).
We ended up on the Canada II, a younger, sleeker, and, arguably, better yacht. Andy was delighted. His team had already won the morning session on Stars and Stripes, and he was hoping for another win on this ship.
While each of us had assignments (cranking some rig or another, keeping time, bartending–that would be Jackie), Andy–because of all his experience–got the best job: co-skipper.
Andy expertly co-skippers the Canada II while we inexpertly go along for the ride.Hard at work on the Canada II.
There’s a lot of labor that goes into manning a racing yacht and I relished the intense physical exercise, but it left little time to just enjoy the indigo waves, the strong yet silky breeze, and the paradisiacal views. Because we had more (wo)man-power than truly necessary (three too many people aboard), I was glad–along with my now-sore muscles–when one person finally took over my job after the next-to-last leg of the race.
Having time to just observe, I got to cheerlead, too. Our team was so far ahead of the other to sailboats (thanks to Andy and our lead skipper), we started celebrating this shoe-in early. Jackie handed out out beers, sodas, and waters like a pro, and all of reveled in our eminent victory.
But there’s a saying about counting chickens before they hatch, and we were about to lay a big fat egg.
Coming around the last leg, each yacht can decide to come down the “lane” on either side of the marker. Logic would have you come around the right side, as we did, because the winds were favorable. But the 2nd-place yacht gambled and went left. They were closing the gap. The lead skipper took over barking out nautical commands that sounded like gibberish to me but had his professional crew and our inexperienced volunteers scrambling.
The motley crew of Canada II (photo credit: Lazlo Hevesi)
Still, confidence was high. We opened the gap again. We were within 200 meters of the final buoy when suddenly the winds changed, literally. They just died. Stars and Stripes was now aiming right at us. Our skipper expertly maneuvered our Canada II to starboard, but Stars and Stripes came so close to us that the tip of her bow swung just above our stern. I don’t think any of us blinked or managed to breathe at that moment.
In the end, their gamble paid off, and Canada II lost to Dennis Conner’s sailboat by a nose.
While we may not have won, Andy, Jackie, Rick, and I will never forget that amazing race.
Sailing happily in St. Maarten with Andy, Jackie, and Rick.
After Tarzan-ing through Puerto Rico’s tropical forest, we freshened up on the ship and headed back out into the city of San Juan. We opted out of a ship excursion because we craved an authentic feel for the place. But we’d already discovered that the guidebooks we bought were lacking in any real content, context, and depth. Sure, opening hours, prices, and addresses were listed, but with a limited time to get to know a place, you need a guidebook that’s going to teach you at least a little bit about the culture and history of a place, not just spew Googled factoids.
Our great tour guiding cabbie, Ariana, takes us all around her hometown of San Juan.
We hired a taxi and asked our driver to give us a “guided” tour of the town. We spent $80 for two hours with our San Juan resident and cabbie, Ariana (that’s just $10/person/hour). She took us from the downtown touristy area of Old San Juan through the government district. We explored the Condado neighborhood in New San Juan and took a coffee break at the humble covered market Mercado Santurce. You come here if you want fresh-picked coconut and bananas, almost obscenely gigantic vegetables, tightly rolled cigars, super-strength coffee, and a dose of boriqua daily life (Borinquen was the pre-Spanish invasion name of the island).
Mercado Santurce offers everything from cigars to coffee to freshly picked produce.We learned so much about Puerto Rican life from our cabbie/guide. (photo by Rick Steves)
As a U.S. Commonwealth since 1952 (previously a U.S. territory since 1917 and under Spanish rule prior to that), Puerto Ricans–who are, of course, U.S. citizens–enjoy the same benefits as mainlanders, such as federal assistance, globalization commerce, and a stable democracy. Still, P.R. retains its own brand of relaxed island flair. That has its pros and cons. We bombarded Ariana with direct questions about her country’s economy, political scene, unemployment, education, hopes, and struggles. I thought she’d pull punches, but she was open and frank about the island nation’s realities and was visibly glad that tourists would take a genuine interest in her life and that of her countrymen.
The beautiful island of Puerto Rico thrives on industries like tourism, pharmaceuticals, and manufacturing.
While Ariana works nearly 60 hours a week to support her family, she acknowledged that there are fellow boricuas who take advantage of a system that provides many subsidies for housing, food, utilities, and basic necessities. Life can be good here despite not having stable work. “Everything” is paid for by the federal government. She remarks, “Is that really much different than big businesses that come here for subsidies in the form of tax breaks and government assistance for tourism, manufacturing, research, and pharmaceuticals?” I don’t know, but it does make you think.
San Juan’s neighborhoods are full of people whose families have lived there for generations and of new arrivals from nearby islands.
The P.R.’s commonwealth status attracts many people from neighboring and poorer Caribbean islands. They emigrate here, hoping to eventually leapfrog their way into the U.S. Most people want a better life than what they can achieve in their own country and are willing to work hard for it. If they can’t make it to the mainland, they remain in P.R., creating new neighborhoods, infusing the local culture with their own native cuisine, and stimulating the local commerce by opening their own businesses. I asked Ariana if locals have negative feelings toward the migrant community. She said, for the most part, no. People respect how much they contribute to society and how hard they work. “Puerto Rico has always been made up of different races, colors, and beliefs. It’s part of who we are.”
History, tradition, decay, and hope.
We wound our way to white sand beaches, through bustling commercial boulevards, pristine neighborhoods, rough and tumble projects, and historic districts. Tradition and historical status prevent renovations and new constructions. Antique buildings, wanting for more TLC than they’re accustomed to, had long crackled under the Caribbean heat and briny air. Bright yet fading pastel façades seemed to echo a nostalgic, Spanish colonial past while retaining a warm optimism particular to Latin America. An elegant apartment building shouldered an abandoned and semi-demolished structure. Despite its evident neglect, life and hope seemed to cling to it and to the strange, massive tree that had grown through its center.
Aerial view of El Morro, one of the oldest forts in the western hemisphere.The only people “attacking” the five-centuries old Spanish fort these days are tourists.
Ariana dropped us off at the former Spanish fort Castillo San Felipe del Morro, or El Morro, one of the oldest forts in the Western Hemisphere. Puerto Rico, was a strategic location where ships could restock their necessities on the their way to “The New World” or back to the motherland. And Spain had needed a mammoth fortress there to defend its newly gained lands. Wandering along its massive walls (some of which date back to 1589), through soldiers’ quarters, and up into the lighthouse, it was easy to visualize Spaniards watching for nearby vessels, intimidating would-be enemies, and firing cannonballs at U.S. warships during the Spanish-American War. Now, the only battles fought on this famous San Juan site are between tourists squeezing by each other in tight spaces.
Having fed our hunger for sightseeing, we hungered for some local food. Rick, Jackie, and I went on a mission to find a non-touristy place for dinner–a challenge but a manageable one. Andy decided to get a haircut from a local barber, and we’d text him with our restaurant location. As with any tourist destination, if you leave the busy streets and meander along the smaller back streets and side streets, you’ll often find where the locals are hanging out and discover authentic meals for local prices.
It was the savory scent of pork that stopped us in our tracks. The entry way looked nothing like a restaurant. Rickety stairs led to a fluorescent lamp-lighted, turquoise stuccoed hole-in-the-wall, and locals filled all six tables. Los Yeyos would be our Puerto Rican food mecca, and it looked worth the wait.
Travel tip: Get a haircut at a local barbershop or salon. Like Andy, you’ll make new local friends and look good doing it.
To kill time, we went to find Andy. While he speaks very little Spanish (his forte is Italian), he was having a grand old time with his new friend, the barber. It was cool to see him engaged with the locals and doing what residents do there every day. More than a place for a haircut, it was a social gathering where they could catch up on the latest news, gossip about friends and neighbors, and visit with the barbers and hairstylists that they’d grown up with.
Spiced chicken and mofongo are a perfect combination and a traditional favorite among San Juan locals.
Back at the Los Yeyos, we asked local diners what we should order. “Mofongo. You want the pork mofongo. The chicken’s good, too. Don’t forget the rice. Oh, and you need the beans, too.” “What about sweet plantains?” I asked. “Do they have those?” “!Sí, claro! Yes, of course! Those go great with the mofongo, which is a mashed, pan-fried savory plantain.”
Mouths and bellies full of tasty local dishes, we left Los Yeyos happy.
We ordered exactly what was recommended to us, and our mouths and bellies were thankful. The spices served as potent reminders of P.R.’s trading outpost history with Spain and the Old World, while the sweet, tropical flavors reinforced the notion that Boriqua cherishes its own distinctiveness, too.
Feeling full and well exhausted from our 12-hour adventure in San Juan, we made our way back to our ship. Big comfy beds awaited us. We slumbered soundly as rolling waves rocked us gently across the Caribbean and on to our next port.
Keep following The Travelphile for more stories about our family cruise to the Caribbean.
Sunscreen: check. Bathing suit: check. Eager-beaver attitude: check. Our first port was calling our name, and I, for one, was ready to hit the beach and take in a year’s supply of Vitamin D in the form of Caribbean afternoon sunshine. As we packed our day bags with our necessary gear, a husky Italian voice comes over the P.A. system. He introduced himself as the captain, and I detected a hint of an apologetic tone. We were anchored a mile or so off the island of Turks and Caicos. From there, we’d to tender, or take small passenger vessels, to the shore to explore the beaches of Grand Turk. “Unnnnnforrrtunately,” said il capitano, “the winds are quiiiite strrrong, and the sea is too choppy to safely rrrun our tenders to the shore.”
Cue hearts sinking all over the ship.
But our man of the sea had a plan. A grand one. We’d weigh anchor and set sail for our next destination: San Juan, Puerto Rico. If we left now and sailed through the night, we’d get six extra hours in the U.S. commonwealth’s capital and have more than enough time really get to know the city.
Cue applause all over the ship.
Skybuckets coast high above the rainforest canopy of La Marquesa National Park.
The next morning, we awoke to still waters in the San Juan harbor. With the additional time here, new excursions were added to the morning itinerary. And because all these excursions were free (included) on the Regent Seven Seas Navigator, our family decided to move our La Marquesa National Park Canopy tour to 9am, freeing up our afternoon to do an in-depth exploration of the town.
Andy, Jackie, Rick, and I (and a pterodactyl) are ready for our Puerto Rico zipline adventure.Rick is an old pro at ziplining and is all smiles.
While Rick, Andy, and Jackie had done this kind of treetop adventure before in Costa Rica, I was the neophyte, wide-eyed and nervous about sliding from one trunk to the next on what looked like black garden hoses. Already feeling awkward with a harness wedgie, a cracked helmet, and tattered gloves that were one size too small, I listened intently to our native Puerto Rican instructor as she explained what to do in her thick, boriqua-accented English. Let the guides clip you in, sit down, hand behind the clasp, don’t grip the tube too early or you’ll stall your momentum, slide your hand back if you swivel, press down on the tube when they tell you or you’ll slam into the tree. Oh, God, I’m going to end up with a concussion.
Andy, The Brave, shows us how it’s done.
I gave myself a pep talk as I inched my way onto the rickety wooden platform. Fifteen people in my group went before me, none got injured, and I convinced myself that I’d be OK. Slow deep breaths, no looking down. Lickety split, my guide clipped me in, ordered me to sit down and go. I’m good at doing what I’m told. There’s only one way to get across this jungle chasm, so here I goooooooo…
Jackie makes it look so easy.I love this ziplining thing, and I can’t wait to do it again!
The high-pitched whirring of metal on rubber tubing penetrates my ear drums and is quickly replaced by the cacophony of a tropical bird chorus, the rustling of thousands of rainforest trees, and my own voice screaming “Wooooo-hoooooo!” My senses are on high alert, and I feel alive, brave, and exhilarated. Within seconds, another guide catches me at the next wooden landing, and all I can think is “Again! Again! Again!”
More adventures lie ahead in San Juan. Stay tuned for the next post to learn about the rest of our experiences in Puerto Rico’s capital.
After an exhaustive search for just the right cruise for our family vacation, we settled on a small cruise ship (450 passengers) that went to Eastern Caribbean ports that enticed us; provided enough variety for dining, entertainment, and activities; and included everything from great accommodations, all drinks, and specialty dining to round-trip airfare, transfers, shore excursions, and tips. It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t much more than if we had chosen a better known cruise line offering cheap rates and then charging for every extra and footing the bill for our flight. Can you guess which ship we picked?
The Regent Seven Seas Navigator: our floating home for 12 days in the Eastern Caribbean.
If you guessed the Regent Seven Seas Navigator, you sure know your cruise lines. Interestingly, we had never heard of them until we exhausted all other options. How they’ve stayed so under the radar is surprising, but as we found out for ourselves, people who know this cruise line really love it.
Our eastern Caribbean cruise itinerary (photo-graphic: Regent Seven Seas Cruises).
Our 12-day itinerary was slated to look something like this: Board in Miami; day at sea; Grand Turk, Turks & Caicos; San Juan, Puerto Rico; Philippsburg, St. Maarten; day at sea; Gustavia, St. Barts; Tortola, British Virgin Islands; Cayo Levantado, Dominican Republic; day at sea; Nassau, Bahamas; Miami. But as any good traveler knows, plans don’t always go as planned.
Even Rick can get into the fun at the casino…despite ending up with only $.05
Still, our ship was a beauty and was a perfect floating abode. She was small enough to get to know the layout and our fellow passengers really well, and large enough to have a slew of activities to choose from when cruising from one tropical port to the next, or–as ended up happening more than once–readjusting our course when we couldn’t go to the scheduled port (more on that in upcoming posts). Traditionalists favored soaking up the sun on the pool deck, indulgers decompressed at the spa, partiers danced the night away, risk-takers hunkered down in the casino, fitness buffs hit the gym, the studious read in the library, and everyone made their way at least once to the theater to take in show.
Jackie, our resident foodie, delights in all the wonderful food Marja and her colleagues suggest to us.
The crew was a delight and hailed from all corners of the world. They were a veritable United Nations of the Seas, embodying the ethics of hard work, attention to detail, and genuine kindness. Every morning in our hallway, Fatima and Puri, who tended to our room, greeted us with smiles, as did their jovial colleagues throughout the ship. Our favorite wait-staff–Doni, Alvin, Guiliano, and Marja–came to know our food preferences so well, they practically knew what we’d order even before we did.
A really fun event was “hallway open house” when we got to socialize over wine and appetizers with our fellow hallmates and some of the crew.Getting to know some of our crew over dinner was a real honor and learning experience for us.
Given Rick’s work as a travel writer and travel show host, we were afforded the opportunity to dine with the Staff Captain as well as with the General Manger, who generously shared stories about life and work on the ship. And at the end of each thrilling day on land or any time we needed to wind down, our bartending sensei “Elvis” (we still aren’t sure if that’s his real name) would patiently and gleefully teach us all about exquisite liquors and fruity libations we had always heard of but never tried.
Our bartending sensei “Elvis” teaches us all about the best whiskey.Thumbs-up for our shore excursion staff!
Our shore excursions organizers became familiar cheery faces as they greeted us in the ship theater each morning we arrived at a new port. Organizing 450 people’s free time can be daunting, but they handled it like pros and bent over backwards to make sure everyone had the experience they were hoping for.
Seeing our impressive bridge and getting to chat with the bridge crew gave us a better appreciation for how much they care for our safety on this ship.
One of the major highlights on the ship was when Rick, Andy, Jackie, and I got a behind the scenes tour of the ship. It’s a wonder how anyone could navigate the labyrinth of these typically “Crew Only” areas (I have enough trouble figuring out which way is port, starboard, bow, or aft when I’m out on an open deck). We serpentined through the loud and fresh-scented laundry room, the lively and unceremonious crew rec area, the kempt officers quarters, the ship’s massive and bustling main kitchen, and most impressively, the ship’s stately bridge. Besides the constant thought of “whoa!” that ricocheted in my mind with every new thing we saw, I kept thinking that it’s impressive how many people it takes to run a ship properly. Every crewmember on the Navigator did their utmost to keep every passenger safe, healthy, entertained, relaxed, informed, fed, quenched, fit, pampered, cleanly, and happy. And they did a stellar job of it.
When it comes to cruising, it’s not just about where you go but how you get there. It took lots of work to find the right cruise itinerary and cruise line for our family, and we’re confident we picked the perfect ship for us.
To find out about all the exciting, tropical destinations our ship and crew took us to, stay tuned for upcoming posts.
My eyes felt like shriveled raisins, abandoned on the vine under the harsh glare of a seething sun. After having stared at my computer screen for so long, I couldn’t tell if my vision was going or if my haggard brain had simply stopped sending messages to my eyes about how to function. It was my task to hunt down the best options for our family vacation–something that Rick, his son Andy, his daughter Jackie, and I could all rally around. How many hours had I been searching? Two, three, five? Something closer to the latter is what it must have been. The rare, sun-drenched, blue Seattle sky that had brightened my workspace for most of the day had metamorphosed into an ebony canvas speckled with pinpricks of faint light. It was my second full day of scouring the Internet, and this was taking way too much time.
Deciding on a Caribbean family vacation is easy. The tough part is picking the perfect cruise.
Weeks earlier we had agreed to take a winter vacation in the Caribbean. We were craving family time, new vistas, and the kind of light and heat that never manifests in the Pacific Northwest. Cruising would maximize our time and allow us to visit many places none of us had ever been to. It seemed like an easy option…until I had to research all the options.
With all our busy schedules and obligations, we could budget 10 days for our trip, including flight days. We wanted something fun, but not too wild. We wanted to be able to enjoy a variety of activities and excursions, but we didn’t want anything generic, dumbed-down, or overcrowded. We wanted quality dining, entertainment, and accommodations but didn’t want to be nickeled-and-dimed into paying more and more above the base price with every “extra” we chose.
With so many cruise lines, itineraries, and options, how do you decide what’s right for you?
Throughout the day, I emailed Rick with questions, suggestions, options, and rejections. Between the haystack of numerous cruise lines, their staggering array of itineraries and departure dates, and their wide range of pricing, it was a wonder that we were able to pull several cruise vacation “needles” that could possibly work for our needs. I narrowed it down to 5 itineraries–while they were with different cruise lines, they were all going to the same destinations, all on the same days, all within our budget, all with enough of our wish list options. We could have been satisfied with any of them.
As Rick and I discussed the possibilities on the phone, we realized that if each of these 5 ships had at least 3,000 passengers docking at the same ports on the same days, we’d be miserably swamped with touristy hoards everywhere we went. There had to be another option.
Could this be the perfect ship for our perfect cruise?
And there was. After more research the next day, I found the perfect trip, perhaps. It was on a smaller ship (450 passengers), went to less-frequented small ports, included everything (drinks, meals–even at the specialty restaurants, excursions, tips, and airfare). The problem: it was two days longer than we had wanted, and it went beyond our preferred budget. Could we make this work? Sure we could. A dream family vacation was worth it to us. And as it turns out, the price with everything included was only slightly more than what we would have paid for any of the other cruises plus the cost of the add-ons, excursions, tips, and flights. It was an important reminder that going for a budget vacation isn’t always a bargain deal. Doing your research to find what fits your needs and really doing the math to know the true bottom line is always worth it.
So which cruise line did we pick? Stay tuned for the next blog post, and I’ll tell you all about it.
Have you ever met someone who’s repulsed by just the thought of going to Disneyland? “How can you stand it? The lines are ridiculous! It’s so fake! It’s too expensive! It’s so commercial! It’s so lame! Have you seen the kind of people that go there? They’re total Disney freaks!”
As much as I love Disneyland, I understand where they’re coming from. On a bad day, trying to walk from one land to the next in the Magic Kingdom is just as aggravating as waiting in a two-hour line for a ride that’s over in 60 seconds. You shuffle through a dense maze of sheep-like hoards of people in silly hats and childish outfits that they should have outgrown thirty years ago. Finally a pocket of space opens and bam!–someone decides to freeze right in front of you, map in hand, confused look upon the face, neck craning to find friends, the restroom, a $6 chocolate-covered frozen banana, Belle, or the Tea Cups. Everyone is so engrossed in their own needs and Disney freakdom that they’re oblivious to everything else around them. It’s enough to make anyone feel like a grumpy dwarf about Disneyland.
But traveling anywhere–including to Disneyland–means making smart plans, having a malleable mind that’s open to new perspectives, and allowing yourself to learn about a culture that might be completely different than what you’re accustomed to. Instead of being a hater, choose to think like a traveler, and you’ll have a completely different experience.
Don’t Hang Out with the Popular Crowd
Like travel to any popular destination, Disneyland has its high and low seasons and its peak days. The determined go whenever they can. The wise go on the least popular days. If you hate crowds, avoid them. If you have the option, skip spring break, summer, Christmas, and New Year’s. If you can’t avoid those periods, escape the midday crush by going early in the morning (Magic Morning early admission is also available for an additional cost) and returning late in the afternoon or early evening. If you split your visit over multiple days (see below), all the better.
Come Back Another Day
Disneyland can’t be done in a day. Not if you want to do it right, anyways. There’s so much to do, so many details to appreciate, so many churros to eat. Take the stress out of your (and your family’s) visit and break it up over a few days. Park-hopper and multiple-day passes are ideal if you have a compact amount of time. But if you can come back at different times throughout the year, splurge on an annual pass (Southern California, Deluxe, Premium). Focus your trips in a time-effective and fun way: do one land a day, do only the kiddie rides, just watch shows and parades, sit on a bench and people watch, or come just to visit with the characters. Disneyland is constantly changing in small and big ways, and if you take time to explore the park over multiple visits, you’ll better appreciate just how varied, entertaining, creative, and innovative this place really is.
Change Your Mind…Often
Every evening before sunset, a flag-lowering ceremony stirs the patriotic hearts of Disneyland visitors.
Have your heart set on riding Space Mountain but it’s a 2.5-hour wait? Don’t get frustrated. Go to Innoventions instead–the interactive high-tech facility featuring gadgets of tomorrow. Then come back to SM when the line is shorter. You’ll use that precious time wisely and learn something new, too. You really wanted to go on Indiana Jones, but it’s broken…again…still? Oh, well! Go watch the moving and entertaining flag-lowering ceremony in Town Square. You’ll swell with patriotic pride instead of fester with ride rage. The park has a plethora of ways to keep you entertained, and if you can’t do the thing you really want to do right now, change your mind. Do it later or just do something else. You’ll never be at a loss for something to do.
Use the Disneyland Daily Schedule and Strategize
Lines are shorter for popular rides like Big Thunder Mountain when a parade is going on.
I love a parade! Who doesn’t? But I’ll skip out on one if that means lines will be shorter for my favorite rides. Same thing goes for showstoppers like Fantasmic or the Fireworks Spectacular. While everyone else is oohing and ahhing at floats and pyrotechnics, you can be screaming eeeiiiiiiaaaahooo on Big Thunder Mountain.
Always Think “Efficiency”
Making a reservation for dining options like Big Thunder Barbecue is smart and efficient.
Whether with a large group, a few friends, or even visiting Disneyland solo (I’ve done that more times than I can remember), maximize your time and experiences by making choices that save time and energy. In groups, divide and conquer. One person can get FastPass tickets for everyone while the group walks to the next ride to stand in line. When getting food, if it makes more sense to have one person pay while someone saves a table, a spot on the parade route or at a show, or–dare I say it–your place in line for a ride, do it. And take time to plan ahead. You can book on-property restaurants (including those in Downtown Disney) like Blue Bayou, Big Thunder Barbecue, and Catal up to 60 days in advance. As a singleton, cut some of your in-queue wait time by taking advantage of Single Rider Passes for Matterhorn, Indiana Jones, and Splash Mountain. And this also works great for families where parents have to trade off watching the baby in the stroller or wait with kids too scared or too short to go on the “big rides”.
Riding the omnibus from Town Square to the Hub is relaxing and a fun way to see the park.
And take advantage of in-park transportation, too. Hop on the omnibus, the train, or a turn-of-the-20th-century car. You’ll can rest your aching feet, see the park from a new perspective, and save yourself some precious time.
Stop and Smell the Roses…Literally
No detail is spared in Disneyland, especially when it comes to the plant life that fills the park.
Disneyland employs a talented team of horticulturalists to keep the park beautiful, fragrant, seasonal, and appropriately themed. Visit in the winter and you’ll find poinsettia strategically planted by color along with landscape designed to help you get in the Christmas spirit. Come back in the summer, and you might find fresh vegetables where the winter plants were. Walt Disney was extremely particular about how he wanted his crafted creation to look in order to enhance the guest experience in each land and within each attraction. Next time you’re there, stop and smell the roses, fan yourself with the palm leaves, rest under the dappled shaded of the melaleuca. And if you’re really into botany, let out your inner gardener and take the “Cultivating the Magic Tour”. You’ll not only learn about the plants of Disneyland, you’ll hear legendary Disney lore and get to cut the line on two classic rides.
Why Don’t You Take a Picture? It’ll Last Longer.
Taking a picture of this picture saved us $25. Not too shabby!
Don’t get suckered into buying random souvenirs that you’ll never use. Just put on that bizarre hat and strike a pose. Take a picture with the balloon vendor and pretend like you’re both in the movie Up. Instead of shelling out $25, take a picture of the picture from that crazy ride. Take a video of you versus your friends in an epic battle of bedazzled, light-up princess wands and Jedi light sabers. Those toys would just gather dust at home or end up in the trash, but those photos and videos make entertaining and long-lasting memories…especially once you post them on social media.
Pinch Your Pennies
I don’t mean in those penny-squishing souvenir machines. I mean, be wise about spending your hard-earned dough. Disneyland is not a cheap vacation, especially for a family, but it can be much less expensive than you think. Split a hearty meal, or better yet, bring in your own snacks to ward off hunger pangs throughout the day. Instead of paying triple what you would outside the park for a bottle of water, use the water fountains to fill up your own bottle. And remember that discounts are available to annual passholders for food, merchandise, and activities.
Indulge Yourself in the Experience
By taking a tour, my parents, Jerry, and I got an exclusive look at the Disneyland Dream Suite.
Being budget-conscious is smart, but don’t let that prevent you from having extraordinary experiences. When my parents, my friend Jerry, and I recently took the “Walk in Walt’s Disneyland Footsteps” tour, our expert guide made the life and history of Walt Disney and his famous park come to life with her heartfelt stories and with soundbites of Walt himself talking about his masterful creation. We actually cried at the end of the tour. Taking the tour also granted us access to venues normally inaccessible to mere mortals (in our case, the Dream Suite in New Orleans Square), line-cutting privileges on two classic rides, and a hearty post-tour lunch. For us, it was a whole new way of experiencing this place that we love so much–one that gave us a deeper connection and broader understanding of what this park meant to its creator and what it has come to mean for its legions of fans.
Let Your (Disney-)Freak Flag Fly
It’s easy to be quick to judge when it comes to Disney Freaks, but what if you just went with it? What if you allowed yourself to get giddy when Donald Duck waddled by and waved at you? What if you went on a treasure hunt for all the “hidden Mickeys” in the park? What’s the worst that could happen if you went around wearing a Princess Jasmine t-shirt or a Captain Hook hat? What if just for a moment, you let yourself get swept up in the all the magical, whimsical, fanciful, unbelievable things that make Disneyland, Disneyland? And what if you stopped to realize that the “freaks” that already do that are having the time of their lives in the Happiest Place on Earth?
Rick lets his Disney Freak Flag fly!
Walt Disney wanted Disneyland to be “a happy place…where parents and children can have fun together.” I think he not only achieved his goal but surpassed it. Disneyland is where anyone can be a kid again. It’s where everyone–no matter their age–can be silly, adventurous, sentimental, thrilled, inquisitive, fantastical, brave, loving, and, above all, happy…even the haters.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land called Anaheim, I went to Disneyland five days a week for two years– I’m not saying that I worked there, but one might say that I was a “good friend” of Pocahontas…and an original one at that. ‘Twas a magical place, and even after a full day in the park, I still loved re-entering as a civilian (guest), going from ride to ride (attractions), and taking in all that makes Disneyland, Disneyland (magic). With its meticulously manicured plants decorating all corners of the park; ever-smiling cast members pointing with two fingers to politely show you where to find the Matterhorn, Cinderella, stroller parking, the restroom, or your lost family members; ambient music perfectly picked for each “land”; immaculate streets and sidewalks cleaned constantly by custodial staff in expertly pressed whites, and the delicious smells of popcorn, cotton candy, churros, corn dogs, and big fat turkey legs wafting through air and somehow convincing you that calories do not exist in The Magic Kingdom, Disneyland is designed to make you happy.
Disneyland corndogs always make me happy.
And for me, in many ways, it is “The Happiest Place on Earth”. My earliest memories of Disneyland go back to a time when I had a cross between a bowl-cut and a Dorothy Hammil ‘do; when green polyester textured bellbottoms with a striped turtleneck were acceptable–nay, fashionable; when Mickey Mouse looked (in retrospect) kind of creepy; and when E-tickets were hoarded until the end of the day so as not to be let down by the “baby rides” too soon. I recall the elation I felt when I was finally tall enough to ride Space Mountain, just 6 years after it made its debut. There was the time when my cousin first went through the Haunted Mansion, and we shrieked with delight and feigned fear at the ghostly ghouls as we cruised along in our “doom buggy”. The first time I went without my parents was a big deal. Budgeting my money for the day, I felt like a grown-up; giggling virtually non-stop the whole day through with my best friends, I felt like the teenager I was.
Trying to rock the pirate look with Goofy…and failing.
Grad Night brought a slew highlights: having the run of the park with my classmates and a handful of other schools, dancing to Jodi Watley and Keith Sweat at their private concerts, riding Space Mountain back-to-back five times with hardly any line, and a photo of me and Goofy with permed hair, a ruffled blouse, and high heels (me, not Goofy).
The Mark Twain and a cast of Disney favorites on the Rivers of America during the spectacular finale of Fantasmic.
And even to this day, two decades after Fantasmic premiered (watch the full show here), whenever I watch this show on the Rivers of America, I allow myself to get caught up in the fantasy, the oh-so-stirring music, the technology, the pyrotechnics, the gorgeous costuming and sets, the weaving together of seemingly disparate stories and fairy tales, the battles against good and evil, the creativity, and–most importantly–the joy of believing in the magic that epitomizes everything pure and good that Walt Disney intended this place to be. At the end of the show, Mickey Mouse stands on the roof of the cabin on Tom Sawyer Island, conducting the majestic, swelling music and a skyfull of fireworks, light flashes, and lasers. And with a pow!, zing!, zam!, pyrotechnic Mickey-fingers, and a cloud of smoke, he suddenly appears down on the main stage, giggling, “Some imagination, huh?” And with thunderous applause, raucous woo-hoos, and tears streaming down (at least from my eyes), everyone in the audience agrees.
Crowds line Main Street to catch a glimpse of their favorite characters on parade.
As an adult, my appreciation for this place has grown, not just deeper but broader. It’s not just about the fairy tale rides or the scream-inducing roller coaster rides, the corny shows and the elaborate Main Street parades, or the characters that seem to have stepped out of the celluloid film and into a fantastical reality. It’s that there’s even more detail, effort, and yes, magic beyond all of those wonderful things that make Disneyland unique and special. Every visit here is somehow different. There’s always something that you might not have noticed the last time you were there, something new to discover, to rediscover. There’s a verse in a Pocahontas song that says, “What I love most about rivers is you can’t step in the same river twice. The water’s always changing, always flowing.” Disneyland is like that. You’ll never have an identical experience, especially if you let yourself be mesmerized by the details, the nuances, and all the little and big things that make The Magic Kingdom so magical.
The “Partners” statue–Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse–in Disneyland’s Hub (in front of Sleeping Beauty Castle) and my mom, Virginia, who is always young at heart at Disneyland.
Walt Disney once said, “Disneyland will never be completed. It will continue to grow as long as there is imagination left in the world.” As Disneyland evolves, it somehow seems to remain true to its roots. It may not be as it was when it opened in 1955 or even as the first time you or I visited the park. It’s bigger, fancier, busier, bolder, more elaborate, more commercial, more streamlined, more imaginative, and more cutting-edge. But it manages to always hold onto the essence of the Disneyland of my memories. It has tapped into a kind of fountain of youth that keeps it fresh and exciting and keeps all those who experience it young at heart.
I hope you’ll follow me in a short series of posts about my recent trips to Disneyland with my loved ones and my friends to see what’s new, what’s the way you remember it was, and to discover things you may never have realized about “The Happiest Place on Earth.”
Cruising the Grand Canal on a vaporetto is relatively cheap…if you get the right kind of ticket for your purposes.
Centuries-old former palaces crackle and peel away in the thick, briny air. Bottom floors of old merchants’ warehouses sit empty and still cling half-heartedly to their romantic patina of a time long past, slowly but beautifully decaying under the Venetian heat, humidity, and rising waters. As I glide down the canal on a slow vaporetto, each stop at a floating dock gives me more time to drink in the Venetian palette and to ponder its decadent history. If I were only traveling one stop on this public waterbus, the €7 ticket would be a rip-off. But taking this as a one-way trip of the entire Grand Canal becomes a bargain photo safari cruise of one of the most photogenic cities in all of Italy. Better yet, for €13 more, it’s a self-customized 24-hour hop-on-hop-off tour, saving you walking time, letting you get wander the islands of the lagoon as you please, and maximizing your sight-seeing.
Venice (and its neighboring islands) can be notoriously expensive. Being an island whose main industry is tourism, all goods have to be brought in by boat. And that comes at a high price, which is unapologetically passed on to the consumer–locals and tourists alike. But if you make savvy choices that are of good value, you can have a richer and less touristy experience.
Massimo of Gran Caffè Lavena makes the best Bellinis in town.You can buy a drink to sit with the band, or stand and dance for free on the Piazza, or find a caffè that’s closed and sit without forking over a single Euro.
Value is subjective. For me, I’ll gladly pay €12 for a fizzy, peachy Bellini at Gran Caffè Lavena…if that means I can sit on St. Mark’s Square for as long as I want, enjoying impeccable live music from three different quartets. It’s a tremendous value. For a less expensive Bellini without the view of the band, I order and stand at the bar and still get to hear the lovely tunes. But I can be even savvier by having an equally delightful yet free experience by standing beyond the caffè terraces, with room to dance with my favorite travel partner to the music that can be heard perfectly from any spot on the piazza. And when my dancin’ shoes start to ache, I look for the caffé that’s closed that evening and just sit in one of their many empty chairs.
Make yourself an inexpensive lunch from fresh produce at the Rialto Market, and you’ll get to meet lively locals like this lady.
Restricting your visit to the areas around and in between Piazza San Marco and the Rialto Bridge can easily find you shelling out molto money, especially on food. With the exception of making a picnic lunch from the fresh produce at the Rialto Market, it’s challenging to find good quality for good value around those parts. So why not venture farther afield?
So many tramazzini, so little time, so little room in my belly.
For a quick and cheap bite, especially if you’re near the Accademia Museum, you can walk 200 yards to Calle de Toletta–with a few turns along the way–and pop into Bar al Maravege (one of my latest finds while doing research for the 2015 editions of the Rick Steves’ Italy and Venice guidebooks) for a tramezzino–an overstuffed, crustless, white bread sandwich. You can find this local favorite throughout the island, but this place is among the friendliest and the least expensive options. Don’t know what to get? Stand behind the locals, see what they get, point at the same thing, and say per favore with a smile. They’re plenty filling, and splitting a few different ones with your travel companions lets you sample several flavors for next to nothing.
For lunch, I get two different tramezzini and a drink for less than €5.
But value isn’t just about saving money. It’s about maximizing your precious time and experiencing the local culture, given the money you choose to spend.
I maximize my €8 ticket by staying as long as I want at the top of the campanile, reducing the stress of jockeying for a good spot, and getting my “perfect shot”.Walking arm-in-arm with this 72-year-old nun back to her convent after Sunday mass was probably the 20 most precious minutes I’ve ever spent in Venice.
Remember: there are no official time limits on church and museum visits. As long as you’re out by closing time, why not linger awhile? Take a few more minutes to get that perfect shot from the top of the campanile. Stay put in front of a Titian masterpiece and contemplate the colors, themes, and brushstrokes, and take time to imagine what society must have been like in his time. Attend a mass just to understand how important religion is (or isn’t) on this island. Talk with the nun who sits next to you, and help her walk back to her convent. You’ll gain so much not by necessarily spending money, but instead spending time and cultural interest. It’ll be one of the best travel investments you can make in Venice.
Boatfuls of book abound at the Acqua Alta Bookstore.A stairway to bibliophile heaven? Well, at the very least it’s a book stairway to a great canal view.
Need a souvenir fix? Make it a real local and inexpensive memory. Swing by the Acqua Alta Bookshop just off of Campo di Santa Maria Formosa. Run by the portly and jaunty Luigi, it’s stacked from floor to ceiling with new, second-, third-, and fourth-hand books, current calendars, postcards of the contemporary and antique variety, and virtually anything a bibliophile could want. There are literally boatloads of books you can hunt through, a stairway made of books that doesn’t lead quite to heaven but to a canal-view perch, and a tiny courtyard reading area for fanciful bookworms. Luigi speaks great English and is a chatty fellow. His feline friends who wander the shop are pretty friendly, too. On my last visit, I collected a dozen vintage engravings and prints of varying size and spent about €12. That combined with my memorable-to-me photos (some of which I’ve turned into canvas prints back home) and the delightful conversation I had with Luigi made for an afternoon well spent.
Meet Luigi, the owner of Acqua Alta Bookstore, and his feline friends.Save some money and share the moment with some new friends by convincing some people to take a gondola ride with you before 7pm.
As for the quintessential Venetian experience, some would argue that riding a gondola is a tourist trap, but if it’s on your romantic bucket list, who’s to say it’s not worth it? What you can do is skip the €100 evening gondola and save about €20 by going before 7pm. Or make it even less expensive by convincing some strangers to share a boat with you. The total price is the same, whether you have two or six people. It may not be as romantic as a gondola just for two, but with the money you save, you can buy your partner some romantic roses…or jewelry…or Murano glass…or dinner, which might get you some romance in return. Now that’s value and totally worth it!
A vacation is what you make of it. There’s no one right way to do it, but if value is what you’re looking for, think like a local or a smart traveler, figure out what’s important to you (time, culture, quality, savings, cultural experience, romance), and you’ll find plenty of opportunities to make your vacation a valuable and memorable trip of a lifetime.
“Please don’t rain yet. Please don’t rain yet. Please don’t rain yet.” My mind looped this mantra, and I plastered an everything’s-alright smile, hoping my face wouldn’t betray my anxiety. Twenty-eight people were following me through the cobblestone streets of Paris, and I didn’t want their only two days with me in my favorite European city to be flooded with memories of torrential downpours.
Last night was tough enough. With most of them jet-lagged, my eager tour members earnestly willed themselves to stay alert and engaged during our Welcome Meeting, neighborhood orientation, metro lesson, dinner, and Seine River cruise. It’s hard for most people to maintain energy and high spirits after a sleepless ten-hour flight, feeling disoriented in unfamiliar surroundings, and hitting a language barrier wherever they turn. Throw in bitterly and unseasonably cold temperatures and buckets of rain, and even the cheeriest of travelers can get grumpy. We all want our travel dreams to come true, but when you end up either stuck inside a crowded, muggy boat with all the windows fogged up or shivering on the narrow deck, jostling for any coverage to protect you from the chilly rain that’s striking you sideways, travel dreams slowly dissolve into nightmares.
Dark clouds roll in on the City of Light.
Today, I just needed 20 minutes more to finish my Historic Paris walk. The weather had held out the entire morning, but the clouds were shifting from light to charcoal grey, and you could smell moist electricity with every shivering inhalation. We were almost at the crosswalk that would lead us away from Notre Dame into the Latin Quarter when the sky cracked, unleashing its contents all over the city of Paris. Umbrellas couldn’t open fast enough (if you had one to begin with), and instantly, every one of us was soaked. Lightening zapped and thunder pounded, and my tour members looked utterly defeated.
It was impossible to know how long the watery onslaught would continue. Rather than make them more miserable by dragging them through flooded medieval Parisian streets like sad, wet puppies, I ended the walking tour, encouraged them to find a silver lining in these storm clouds, and set them free to do as they pleased. I lingered for anyone who wanted advice on transportation, lunch options, and ideas for what to do next to salvage their waterlogged morning.
When the sun is back out, everyone is ready to embrace any experience in Paris.
What intrigued me is that not one of the wanted to go back to the hotel. Sure, they all wanted to escape the deluge, dry off, mentally recover, and get some nourishment, but every single tour member seized the opportunity to explore Paris. The next morning they told me of the museums they visited, cafés terraces where they people- and storm-watched and where the waiter was “soooo nice;” pastry shops where they found their new, favorite dessert; and charming neighborhoods they wouldn’t have explored had they just decided to hunker down in their hotel room. We couldn’t have anticipated how that day would end up, but all of us made it work. They had all come on this tour to enjoy Europe, and in that moment, they all did exactly that and made me proud.
Now if you’ve ever been to the high Alpine Lauterbrunnen Valley of Switzerland’s Bern-Oberland region, you know that when conditions are right, the Alps are something akin to a paradise on Earth. Crisp air, fertile greenery, jagged cliffs, cut-glass peaks, and cowbell jingles ignite the senses and make you feel more alive than you’ve ever been. But when the clouds come in low, rain and snow make hiking trails treacherous, and all you seem to smell is cow poop–yeah, not so much.
Such was the lot for another one of my tours. We planned to ride the gondola up to the Schilthorn–10,000 feet above sea level–and then come back down to 6,000 feet to hike from village to village along the cliffs above the valley floor. But Mother Nature had other plans for us. She can be finicky and temperamental in the Alps, and if you happen to catch her on one of those days, too bad for you. She welcomed us with snow on the high trails (closing many of them), rain everywhere else (water run-off made it too slippery for many hikers), and thick fog that obliterated views at every level from the valley to the mountaintops. Move along folks, nothing to see here.
Even on a gloomy day, Thun is a lovely place to visit.
We could’ve pouted. We could’ve bemoaned the day we should have had. Instead, we hopped on our bus and headed to the lakeside town of Thun, 15 miles west of Interlaken. Walking through a drizzly town appealed to the group more than sludging through a mud-filled trail you couldn’t even see, so we jumped at the chance to visit this charming Swiss place. We walked across the former watermill that straddled the Aare River, explored cobblestone lanes and public squares, and hiked to the top of the town to its 12th-century castle. There we were treated to views of the quaint architecture below, the placid lake, and the proud mountains off in the distance. It wasn’t exactly a trip to the Schilthorn, but it was lovely nonetheless and a morning well spent.
From the top of the 12th-century Thun Castle, the views are quite a sight to behold.
Back at our hotel, I did some weather research and discovered that tomorrow would be one of those beautifully blue, crystal clear, picturesque paradise days that every visitor to the Alps dreams of. Although we were scheduled to leave at 8am for our next destination, I asked my group if they’d like to delay the departure a couple of hours so we could take the early gondola up to the Schilthorn. And even though they would still miss out on an upper ridge hike, they all eagerly said, “YES!”
Making our way up to the Schilthorn in a gondola, we were treated to expansive views of the villages and valleys below.
As we ascended on that bright, early morning, audible gasps of awe rippled through the gondola–some from the height-wary ones but most from those stunned by the beauty above, below, and all around us. Waterfalls tumbled over 1000-foot drops along cross-section cliffs, feeding the Weisse Lütschine River that flows to the Thun and Brienz Lakes. Emerald green fields extended their lushness from the ridge-side villages to the bases of the ubiquitous mountains. Alpine lakes sported their last remnants of snow-white ice and reflected the mountains and skies above.
THIS is what we came to Switzerland for!
At the summit, anyone without his jaw dropped open in awe was the odd man out. There is no greater art than Nature herself, and only a fool can be immune to her majesty and beauty. These massive monoliths of rock and earth that had taken millions of years to form stood like proud sentinels in every direction around us. The Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau glistened a blinding white light as the sun bounced off their glacial peaks. Such views make one feel so gloriously grand and so beautifully insignificant all at the same time.
As we stood on the platform overlooking the alpine landscape, I think we were all counting our blessings for having such horrible weather the day before. Without it, we’d never have gotten to know Thun or seen the Swiss Alps as they ought to be seen.
No matter how much we plan our vacations, travel can be full of surprises, unexpected moments, and plan-changing events. It doesn’t always work out in our favor. As the Scots poet Robert Burns can attest, even the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. But when we accept those travel hiccups as new experiences, we can be rewarded with magical moments we never could have planned. And that’s one of the best things we can hope for in our travels.
Vacations should be perfect. At least that’s what we all think, given how much time, money, and effort it requires on our part to make our vacation dreams a reality. We scrimp, we save, we plan, we organize, and we do all the necessary things to get our travel ducks in a row. And then…it rains. Hard. Or it snows. And the roads are closed. Then the restaurant is closed. And the whole country seems to be on strike.
The woes of a traveler can be great, but they can be minimized when we remember to keep things in perspective. Sure, we’re inconvenienced, but at least we’re all in the same boat with the locals and the other travelers whose plans now have to change. And things could always be worse. Or you could be back at home, sitting in your tiny cubicle, pushing paper under the annoying hum of florescent lamps, and watching the clock tick slowly. The best thing to do is take a deep breath, remember how fortunate we are to travel, and quickly come up with plan B.
As a tour guide, I’ve had to come up with many a plan B, C, and even D to keep my tour members happy, engaged, and active. You can imagine the stress it can cause to quickly scramble together an alternative plan that will satisfy 28 different people who had their hearts set on something else. And yet, it always seems to work out. Why? Because everyone is willing to go with the flow.
In the Bern Oberland region of Switzerland, the magnificence of the Swiss Alps beckons us to hike the high
Many travelers pride themselves on “discovering” up-and-coming, locals-only, or unsung places. Finding these gems, you feel like you’re in a secret club: the I Know Something You Don’t Know Club. But the pride is short-lived. What good’s a secret if you can’t tell anyone? So I share these places with fellow travelers, hoping they’ll have a delicious experience, make a connection with the people, and perhaps get a richer understanding of the local culture through its food. As an ever-evolving expression of a people, food is a gateway to the soul and values of a society.
Sometimes it’s better (and easier) to let a local teach you all about it. That’s why Rick and I signed up for Paris By Mouth‘s food tour of the Marais. Meg Zimbeck (blogger and food writer) started this company to share the great restos, bars, bakeries, food trucks (yes, food trucks), and wine bars of her adopted city. She recently branched out with food tours of various Parisian neighborhoods, led by her or one of her expert foodie-staffer-writers.
We had skipped breakfast and arrived fifteen minutes ahead of our tour, so we popped into the first bakery we saw and split a pain au chocolat. Was it the hunger pangs clouding my judgment or was this one of the most perfect pastries I’ve had in Paris? No time to think about that now: we had to meet our guide on that brisk, grey Parisian morning.
At 59 rue de Saintonge, you’ll find some of the best breads and pastries in all of Paris.
Catherine Down, a U.S. ex-pat and food aficionado, planned on taking us to several places, explaining traditions, techniques, flavors, and history along the way. We’d sample bits and pieces, have a proper sit-down tasting (grazing?), and top it off with some sweets. And guess where our first stop was: the same bakery (59 rue de Saintonge) Rick and I had just patronized. Turns out that baker Benjamin Turquier had just won 3rd Place in Paris’s annual Meilleure Baguette (Best Baguette) contest–he’s placed a couple of times before. He also came in 10th in the Meilleure Croissant au Beurre (Best Butter Croissant) contest just last week–too recent to put up the announcement sticker on his boulangerie window.
Locals in the know come here for award-winning baguettes and croissants.Catherine teaches us all about baguettes.
We headed to a nearby square, mouths drooling in anticipation of tasting these prize-winning concoctions. Catherine explained that a classic Parisian baguette (under the legally protected term of baguette de tradition française de la ville de Paris) must contain only flour, water, salt, and yeast. Quality boulangeries bake throughout the day, not once a day like most places. If you see a decal that says Artisan Boulanger (also a legally protected term), you know the dough is made, rises, and is baked on the premises. Bakers can start as early as 3am to get their baked goods ready for their hungry and discriminating consumers.
Ideally colored, with the right amount of irregular holes, the perfect density, this is how a good baguette should be.
How do you know it’s good? Look for an irregular oblong form and a smooth bottom; this means it was hand-shaped and proofed on fabric, not in a mold that makes itty bitty bumps. Listen to how the crust breaks, crrrrrrrrrrriiiiiik. The inside should be a light yellow/ivory and be pocketed with irregular-sized holes. But the real proof is in the taste. And with as much objectivity as I can muster, I can honestly say this baguette was magnifique!
Go for a “straight” croissant if you want yours made with butter instead of margarine.
The croissant–whose birth, legend has it, is owed to a 17th-century baker who made this crescent-shaped pastry to celebrate a French victory over the Ottoman Turks (whose flag featured a crescent moon)–should also be carefully selected. You want a croissant au beurre (made with real butter), not a croissant ordinaire (made with margarine). How can you tell if there’s no signage? By shape, like the bakers do. The straighter croissant has butter, the curvier one has margarine–a visual distinction so the clerks can quickly pick out the one you want.
For a ready-made, gourmet meal, stop by a charcuterie.
At Ramella Charcutier-Traiteur (a gourmet deli), everything here is made to be served cold or at room temp. The French 35-hour work week can wear a Parisian out. So rather than cooking up an elaborate meal, a local might prefer to pick up a few things at their local charcuterie or traiteur and complement them with one hot dish they’ll prepare at home. Here they have cured meats, terrines (smoked/cooked meats or seafood in aspics of wine and spices), and rillettes (roasted/cooked meats blended with fat–looks like tuna salad but tastes infinitely better). We grab a monkfish terrine and some duck rillettes, which will go perfectly with our fresh-baked bread.
Trust an affineur to help you pick the best cheese for your needs.
To forget the cheese would be a mortal sin in France. We pass by Fromagerie Jounnault. This family of affineurs are expert cheese mongers with caves on sight to properly continue aging the fromage. France has between 500-1000 different cheeses, depending on the season, respecting the natural breeding cycles of the goats, sheep, and cows. Clients rely on their resident cheese experts to help them pair the right cheeses to match the flavors of their wine and the rest of their meal.
Lactose intolerance? Not a problem for me here in France.
I mention to her that although in the States, I have lactose intolerance issues. In France, it almost never happens. “That’s a common remark I get on these tours,” she says. Pasteurization (required in the U.S.) does destroy certain bacteria, but it can also destroy the enzymes that would help a person to digest the cheese properly. In France, only some cheeses are pasteurized–not because they don’t care about health and safety but because that process also kills the natural flavors, shaped by the animals’ diet and the fat content, giving the cheese its distinctive profile.
Even cheese imported to the U.S. from France doesn’t quite taste like the real French cheese. Having to conform to U.S. regulations and restrictions prevents it from coming to full flavor. “That’s why I always remind people that sometimes one must travel for authenticity. Whether it’s food, art, history, or architecture, replicas and imitations just aren’t good enough.”
Each region has their own specialty cheeses with unique character and flavor.
Catherine’s selections featured goat, sheep, and cow’s milk cheeses from Normandy, Roquefort, Melun, Comté, and the Côte d’Or–each with their own particular taste and texture, based on where and how they were produced. Terroir and traceability are essential concepts in France and throughout Europe. Sun, wind, rain, altitude, and minerals in the soil shape the character of meats, wines, and chesses, giving them distinct regional flavors. They are as unique to a place as the people are, with their own degrees of spiciness, sweetness, dryness, and boldness. Just as you wouldn’t confuse Texas barbecue with Kansas City barbecue knowing what region a product comes from can inform you about its character, preparation, and flavor. And in France, terroir is a matter of tradition, respect, quality, and pride.
Catherine picks up some thinly slice bigorre for our group to sample.
And what’s a French picnic lunch without cured meat? At Caractère de Cochon, we try bigorre, the Pyrenees black pig. Like Spain’s succulent counterpart, the black Iberian pig, biggore are acorn-fed and have a silky, salty rich flavor that makes you want to lick your lips for hours.
Matching the right cheese with the right wine just makes sense.
When it comes to wine, I don’t know much, but I know what I like. Thankfully, Catherine selected just the right whites, reds, and rosés to complement the French feast we assembled during our tour. At a communal table inside Bibo Vino wine shop at the Marché des Enfants Rouges, we relished our pungent spread of fine cheeses, savory cured meats, deli spreads, and fresh baked baguettes. Working from mildest to heartiest–and repeating the cycle until we cleaned our plates–we were able to appreciate foods with their appropriate wine pairing and better understand how matching regional flavors can enhance any meal.
Rick loves stinky cheese.Jacques Genin’s chocolate are tiny works of art and decadence.
To properly balance our savory lunch, we coated our palettes with artful pieces of chocolate, butter-bomb caramels and tastes-like-the-real-thing fruit confections by Jacques Genin. Although he is not a qualified maître chocolatier by official French standards, he is a self-taught chocolate master and has become the most sought-after chocolate maker, supplying more than 200 of Frances top hotels and restaurants. And if it’s good enough for them, it’s certainly good enough for me.
