The Travelphile

Best of Europe: Scenes from a Swiss Adventure

For 21 days, Rick and I are tour members on one of his own tours: the Best of Europe. We’re trying to combine vacation with quality control and research. And it’s going great! Join us as we traipse from the Netherlands to Germany, Austria to Italy, and Switzerland to France with a terrific tour guide and 26 wonderful fellow tour members.

Rick and I take a moment to just enjoy the Swiss scenery.

Switzerland may have some of the wealthiest banks, the hole-iest cheese, and the milkiest chocolate on the planet, but its greatest treasure is its natural beauty. Turquoise lakes of glacial waters snuggle up to emerald grass valleys, and alpine peaks covered in perpetual ice and snow dwarf humble villages. With every visit to the Lauterbrunnen Valley with one of our tours, I think to myself, “This never gets old.”

It was no different on this trip. And hearing the chorus of gasps, oohs, ahhs, and whoas ripple through our bus as we wound through the twisty landscape made me smile. It’s always fun for me to introduce people to this valley for the first time. Especially after experiencing the intensity of Italy’s great cities like Venice, Florence, and Rome, it’s a chance for all of us to take deep breaths, reconnect with nature, and reconnect with ourselves.

Rick and our balcony neighbors Marci and Tom admire the valley view.

We made our temporary home in the tiny village of Stechelberg, where the cows outnumber the residents 10 to 1. The view from our balcony boasts 3000-foot cliffs and several waterfalls that fill our whole field of vision. And proud, white-top mountains reach 5000 feet higher towards a pristine blue sky.

Reid, Rick, the Eiger, the Mönch, and the Jungfrau.

Our whole group got an early morning start to climb 10,000 feet in a cable car. At the top of the Schilthorn, layers are a must because it can get bone-chilling cold this high up. On the precipice, a platform offers a 360-degree jagged-peak panorama. The Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau mountains look enormous and close enough to touch. Wherever you look, snowy mountains stretch upwards, and just beyond them, glimpses of distant lakes and lowland villages sit in quiet and still beauty.

We've been up here many times, and it still never gets old. — We’ve been up here many times, and it still never gets old.

He'd make a great 007. — He’d make a great 007.

With our fingers and toes getting numb, Rick and I headed inside to explore James Bond World, the brand new attraction featuring all things 007. This was, after all, where they filmed On Here Majesty’s Secret Service. We got into the cheesiness and loved it. We hopped in a bobsled and pretended to chase the bad guys, and we popped into the theater to watch the scenes that were filmed up here. It was an exercise in laughter control and really made us appreciate how far special effects technology has come in the last 50 years.

About a dozen of us were eager for a hike, so we made our way down by cable car to the village of Mürren for a quick lunch stop. We knew we’d need the energy for the next stage of our adventure. From there we huffed and puffed for the first twenty minutes of our North Face trail hike to Gimmelwald. The paths were steep, the air was thinner than what we were used to, and my heart felt like it was in overdrive.

We could pass us the chance to have a snowball fight in the Swiss Alps. — We couldn’t pass us the chance to have a snowball fight in the Swiss Alps.

The trail eventually leveled out, and we were treated to splendid landscapes that wound us past mountain huts, rushing streams, and wide fields. It was still cold enough to have snowball fights but spring-like enough to see flower blossoms flank the trails and grasslands that provide nourishment for local cows.

From snow fields to flower fields, you'll find it all hiking the North Face trail from Mürren to Gimmelwald. — From snow fields to flower fields, you’ll find it all hiking the North Face trail from Mürren to Gimmelwald.

Our hardy travel companions work their way through the forest.

Routes were well marked so it was almost impossible to get lost, but once we got into the forest, we worked hard to avoid felled trees, slippery rocks, and gnarled roots that seemed strategically placed to trip us.

Along the way, the trickles of water we stepped over became little streams, and those streams converged to become a raucous waterfall named Sprutz. The path led us under its cascade. It’s one of 72 waterfalls that populate the Lauterbrunnen Valley. Passing behind the falls, I paused to listen to its roar, to feel the mist on my face, and to gaze beyond the curtain of water to the mountains in the distance. I felt alive, connected to the world around me, and grateful to be a part of it all.

After a two-hour hike, we were all ready for an ice cold beverage.

After two hours of hiking, we finally made it into Gimmelwald. We stopped by Walter’s Mittaghorn Hotel, sat down at the outdoor tables, had some well deserved beverages, and enjoyed the scenery. There’s not much to do in this village, but simply relaxing and enjoying the moment is a fine art, and so easy to do here.

Our grand reward after a steep downhill hike: a lovely view of the Lauterbrunnen Valley.

Most of our hiking pals took the cable car down to Stechelberg to get some rest. Rick and I decided to keep on hiking down, down, down back to our village. While I was grateful for the sturdy traction on my shoes, I soon regretted not having walking sticks. The steps were steep and irregular, and the shale was slippery. The trail required my full attention, leaving little opportunity to admire the impressive foliage, brooks, and trees that decorated this pathway. But when we finally reached the bottom, we were rewarded with a glorious view–the vast expanse of the Lauterbrunnen Valley. It made the wretched pain in my knees temporarily worth it.

Rick gets his fare share of bread for the fondue.

We pressed on two hundred more yards because we knew a wonderful dinner awaited us. Otto, our hotel host and chef, taught us how to make his classic fondue, using his “Magic Powder”. And after all the hiking and Swiss excitement we had done, it was fun to embrace our inner Swissness with a traditional Alpine meal. The tasty bread dipped in wined-infused melted cheese hit the spot.

The altitude, the heavy meal, and my aching muscles had me yearning for sleep. But tired as I was, I wanted one last dose of nature before going to bed. Standing on the balcony, the snowy mountains were rimmed with the light of the moon. A soft breeze reminded me of the alpine meadows I had explored just hours earlier. Reflecting on our Swiss adventure, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled, “Thank you.”

Best of Europe: The Cinque Terre

Rio Maggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso: better known as the Cinque Terre or Five Lands. They’ve been a long-time favorite of Rick’s, and when we come here on a tour, it’s all about embracing our inner Italian, learning to relax, and just being in the moment. Whether you want to hike from one town to the next and the next and the next (if the trails aren’t temporarily closed), putter around on a stand-up paddle board in the Ligurian Sea, or just catch some zzzz’s under a Mediterranean sun on a rough, sandy beach, here you can take a vacation from your vacation.

And on our typical 21-day Europe tour, we spend a little time with the group getting to know our town (ours is Monterosso), enjoy dinner together, and then have the entire next day free to do as each of us pleases.

Rick steps back into his role as a tour guide and teaches our group all about Monterosso.

Missing the good ol’ days, Rick took on the role of tour guide for our Monterossa orientation, and he was dynamite. I’m not just saying that. He really is a pro, a natural, and an all-star at this. It’s been about 15 years since he last led a tour, and it was a real joy to see him so at ease in the role that launched Europe Through the Back Door. Our tour members were all a-smile as he led us from the new town to the old, explaining the pirate history of the Cinque Terre, pointing out World War II bunkers, and teaching people how and where to catch the train and boat for Ligurian Coast adventures the next day. And every person who recognized him as we walked through the town (and there were many) could be heard saying, “I want to be on that tour!”

Robert empties the first of our group's 8 amphore into a bowl big enough for us to dig out our favorite seafood. — Robert empties the first of our group’s 8 amphore into a bowl big enough for us to dig out our favorite seafood.

Dinner was a banquet of seafood, simmered for hours in an amphora or large clay pot with red wine and herbs. It’s so immense that one vessel can easily feed four people, and everyone in our group wanted to try it. Even the most seafood-averse among us couldn’t resist the cornucopia of the sea, sampling marine delights like cuttlefish, lobster, octopus, mussels, clams, and swordfish.

Feelin' mighty fine. — Feelin’ mighty fine.

Besides the amphora, the trofie pasta with pesto that preceded it, and the free-flowing schiaccetra (Ligurian sweet wine) that followed, we filled ourselves with great company and barrels of laughter all night long. We would have felt bad about disrupting our fellow diners, but we were having too good of a time to worry about that.

Some headed back to get a good night’s rest before early starts to go hiking. But several of us wandered down to the main square take in some local ambience. It was the Festival of the Lemons, and that meant party-time in “downtown” Monterosso. Residents gathered with their friends, family, and neighbors to drink the local limoncino (the lemon liqueur known as limoncello in other parts of Italy) and to dance the night away. And you know what they say: When in Monterosso…

Dancing the night away at the Lemon Festival on the main square in Monterosso is a memory we'll always treasure. — Dancing the night away at the Lemon Festival on the main square in Monterosso is a memory we’ll always treasure.

From Michael Jackson to Miley Cyrus and Italian pop to German trance, we danced like we knew what we were doing. Locals and fellow tourists cheered us on, and we had the time of our lives. Schiaccetra and limoncino either loosen up your limbs enough to make you dance well or loosen your mind enough to make you think you dance well. I’ve never felt more part of the local scene on this trip than on this magical night in Monterosso.

The next day, Rick and I laid low as much as we possibly could for as long as we possibly could. We slept in until 9:15 (absolutely unheard of when Rick is working), lingered over breakfast, napped, and did a little bit of writing before heading out to Vernazza by train in the afternoon. It was the most luxuriously lazy day I’d had in such a long time, and it was heavenly.

We found a delightful (and empty) perch high above the hustle and bustle in Vernazza.

We found a quiet perch where we could escape the waves of tourists that were constantly bombarding this tiny town of 2,000. Respite can certainly be an indulgence, but when you can be alone (with your favorite travel partner) with sapphire blue waters, warm caressing winds, jagged coastline views, and a cool glass of schiaccetra, it’s worth every penny.

Rick films a spot for AARP against the perfect Vernazza backdrop. — Rick films a spot for AARP against a dreamy Vernazza backdrop.

Our respite didn’t last long. Rick had to meet with two Danish photographers hired by AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) to do a photo shoot to accompany an upcoming feature in their monthly publication. With Danish efficiency and heartiness, we climbed way above the town to get just the right background of the iconic view of crayola-colored houses, the Ligurian Sea, and the happy harbor. That was a logical and ideal background choice.

The second one: not so much. AARP wanted to cover up the picture-perfect–and I mean perfect–view with a white backdrop, covering everything beautiful in the background. We thought about it and concluded that they must want the ability to Photoshop Rick into any background of their choosing. But it certainly makes you wonder why you’d come all the way to the Cinque Terre to do a film shoot and completely ignore the view that people travel thousands of miles to see.

As Micky to serve his favorites, and this might be one of the dishes you get.

Back in Monterosso, we treated ourselves to a fancy schmancy dinner at Micky’s. We let Micky (the chef) surprise us with his favorite tasty bites. While we prefer to dine family-style, we each got individual portions. Seven of them. One can only eat so many appetizers before one literally bursts, but to refuse the chef–especially after you’ve asked him to surprise you with his favorites–is just bad form.

I’m not even sure what we were eating, but I know everything was meant to be devoured first by the eyes and then by the palette. Tied up in neat little packages and plated with such precise symmetry, I could imagine rulers and tweezers as part of the chef’s kitchen tool kit.

Even the flavors had their own beautifully symmetrical balance of salty, sweet, tart, and tangy. I wanted so badly to be able to keep consuming these masterful creations, but we had to say basta after the pasta. Too much of a good thing can ruin things, and knowing when to say “enough”–especially when you’re on vacation–is the smart way to keep your travel moments magical.

Best of Europe: There’s No Place Like Rome

A view of the Roman Forum, 30 feet below current street level.

Wander through your own city streets and imagine what you’d find if you stopped at any corner and started digging: tree roots, a toy, some nails, broken plumbing, an arrowhead, or some plant fossils perhaps? Well, imagine having the remnants of one of the mightiest empires the world has every known not only unearthed 30 feet below current street level but in plain sight around every corner, down the length of entire streets, as well as on display in your city’s museums.

That’s Rome. It’s a lasagna of history and culture, and there’s no place like it in the world. Picture a million people clustered in a teeming city whose very name came to mean civilization itself. It was the center of economic, political, and cultural world and survived despite war, famine, plague, and even the downfall of an empire. And although this city has never been completely abandoned in its 2700 year history, its demise reduced the to population to 20,000. It was a remnant of a once-great people, lost in the dark ages and covered by the sand of centuries.

It became a muse for Romantic Era painters and poets, who conjured up dreamy images and inspired Grand Tour travelers to re-discover this wonder of antiquity. The city was excavated in bits and pieces. And while much of ancient Rome still lies beneath the earth, much as been recovered and beckons all of us to remember the most influential society that shaped the Western World.

The Romantic Era painters remember Roman like this, a scene similar to what Michelangelo would have known 200 years earlier.

Layer upon layer of ancient temples, seats of government, historic roads, political propaganda masquerading as art and architecture, and civic infrastructure that were neglected for so long after the fall of the Roman Empire have been uncovered only in modern times. It’s easy to take for granted that these 2000-year-old relics are now so easily accessible. But in Michelangelo’s time, the Roman Forum was buried in dirt and debris deposited by a thousand years of Tiber River floods and silt. Only the sturdiest and most massive structures remained, as if struggling not to be buried. Here and there, the arm of a statue or the fragment of a temple pediment might stick out of the grass that blanketed the silt fields, with only cows and peasants for company.

Rome is a like a big game of time-tunnel show-n-tell. Take a stroll or passeggiata through the city and you can transport yourself to ancient, Renaissance, or Baroque times. And while sightseeing lets you check Rome off of your to-do list, it’s all the more exciting–and valuable for an engaged traveler–to understand the historical context and to get into the mindset of the times.

When you're at the Colosseum, try to imagine what it would have been like to be a part of the experience 2000 years ago. — When you’re at the Colosseum, try to imagine what it would have been like to be a part of the experience 2000 years ago.

At the Colosseum, you can be the professional gladiator–showered with fame, fortune, and the hope of freedom if you survive your four fights a year. Or be a spectator wowed by the bread and circuses policies of your lunatic emperor–escape from your troubles at home, gorge yourself on the free food and wine, and be thrilled by the first lion you’ve ever seen in your life. Or be the emperor himself–placating all of your citizens and slaves to distract them from their problems, letting them vent their angers in a group catharsis aimed at an unworthy opponent instead of at you, controlling the masses with mindless, violent entertainment.

Think of all the history that has happened in just this stretch of the Roman Forum.

Walk through the Forum, smell ancient vapors of incense as you pass the Temple of Vesta. Hear Roman citizens in the market, discussing politics, mourning the death of Julius Caesar, and cheering the empire’s latest victory. Or be a Roman statue and think of all the history that you would have witnessed.

Our youngest tour member, Brogan, stands proud as a Roman statue in the Forum.

Inside the Pantheon. — Inside the Pantheon, people admire the architectural wonder above and all around them.

Enter the Pantheon, and remember that this church used to be a temple for all gods. Appreciate the pragmatism of the Romans, who embraced all religions of conquered societies to facilitate easier assimilation. Crane your neck across the dome that spans 140 feet and remind yourself that that kind of engineering was not duplicated for another 1400 years and influenced Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence, Michelangelo’s dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, and even the U.S. Capitol Building. And all that colored marble you see? Chalk that up to Roman “recycling.” Those pieces were scavenged from the Colosseum and the Forum.

You could explore Rome this way for days and still only experience a fraction of this city’s unique and storied past. You need to experience the many layers of the Eternal City to get a fuller picture of what this unique city is all about. You’ll find it seasoned with crusty neighborhoods, well-aged monuments, robust museums, classic ruins, sweet parks, and spicy people-filled piazzas. And as you’ll certainly find, Rome is much more than one serving–you could never enjoy it all in one sitting. But even just a taste of it leaves you hungry for more.

The Best of Europe: Florence

After you've seen Michelangelo's David, what's next on your list of things to do in Florence? — After you’ve seen Michelangelo’s David, what’s next on your list of things to do in Florence?

If you’ve ever visited Florence or if you have Florence on your bucket list, your top ten things to see and do probably include seeing Michelangelo’s David, visiting the duomo (cathedral) and possibly climbing Brunelleschi’s dome or Giotto’s bell tower, crossing the Ponte Vecchio, and touring the Uffizzi Gallery. But what else does one do in Florence?

Lots.

It just takes time, some stamina, and lots of openness to experience fascinating Florence. I’m all for sightseeing, especially when paired with historical and society context to better understand a culture, but building lasting memories and allowing yourself to fall in love with a place requires more that ticking off a list of obligatory things to see. Do the things that aren’t on your list. Treat yourself to a cultural adventure just by doing the minutia of daily life in a city that’s been a seat of vibrant life for centuries, and let yourself see the ordinary with new eyes.

Rick takes a moment to appreciate the public gallery of sculptures tucked into Giotto's bell tower. — Rick takes a moment to appreciate the public gallery of sculptures tucked into Giotto’s bell tower.

Just walking from the duomo or cathedral to the Piazza della Signoria, you can transport yourself into the mind of a Medieval Florentine and imagine how impressed you would be by virtual art gallery that surrounds you. The facade of the church, which wasn’t completed until the 19th century, could have you meditating for hours on anything from the Holy Family to construction skills and artistic style to cheap labor. And while you may be impressed by the height and sturdiness of Giotto’s tower, take a minute to just look at the statues that adorn it. It doesn’t cost you a thing, but it can give you a better appreciation of the notion that art is for everyone.

This marble tabernacle is a gem waiting to be discovered by you inside the Orsanmichele Church.

For years, I’ve walked by the Orsanmichele Church of the Guilds, admiring this former granary-turned-church’s craft and trade guilds-sponsored (rather than the church-sponsored) sculptures that embellished the facade niches (now copies take their place). But I had never taken the time to actually visit it. Stepping inside for the first time, I felt I had been robbing myself of a precious jewel for all these years. While most of the walls are bare, practically gloomy, the ceiling is a celestial festival of saints. And when walk to right of the entryway, you’ll feast your eyes on the most delicate, intricate, and ornate tabernacle you may ever see. The carved marble twists, turns, points, and curves its way around an icon image of the Mary and Jesus, creating a perfect shelter for Blessed Mother and Child.

The flags of Florence, Italy, and the European Union adorn the facade of the Palazzo Vecchio on the Piazza della Signoria.

Fake David's shadow. — Fake David’s shadow.

At the Piazza della Signoria, I embraced the idea of appreciating the details. The Florentine, Italian, and European Union flags flutter, furl and unfurl in the wind in virtual unison, and I wonder how much of that of harmony exists within the political entities themselves. Rather than take pictures of Fake David, I admire how his shadow shifts, darkens, and nearly disappears along the wall in the late afternoon light of a soon-to-be-setting sun. And a medallion embedded in the cut stones of the piazza remind all visitors who choose to look (and who can decipher some Italian) that the nemesis of the Medici family–Dominican friar Savonarola–was burned on that very spot after overplaying his hand as a theocrat, suffering the same fate as those he had condemned for “moral transgressions.”

This medallion on the Piazza della Signoria marks where Dominican friar Savonarola was burned.

Back across town at the Mercato Centrale, I followed some locals as they went to their favorite market stalls. They picked the finest olive oil and sniffed the local truffles. They joked with fishmongers, asked advice about the ripest vegetables, and eyeballed which slices of wild boar they would be serving their family tonight.

Wild boar, anyone? It's delicious. — Wild boar, anyone? It’s delicious.

This is just one half of the vast upper floor of the Mercato Centrale. — This is just one section of the vast upper floor of the Mercato Centrale.

One floor up, the new food hall was abuzz with locals, study abroad students, and travelers alike. I had to see what all the commotion was about. The renovation of the 19th-century market hall’s upper floor has brought a rebirth, a renaissance if you will, of gastronomy and community pride. You could wander all afternoon inhaling and consuming the aromatic dishes, testing all of the libations, or taking a cooking class. It’s a celebration of food and beverage, and it seems like everyone wants to join the party.

Criss-crossing the city once more, I cross the Ponte Vecchio to the Oltrarno, the other side of the river. With little time to explore the artisan shops, I choose instead to take in the sunset on slightly hidden spot along the river. I’m one of five people there, and with an unobstructed view of the Ponte Vecchio to my right and a orange-yellow popsicle sun melting into the distant horizon, I think to myself, “What a perfect day in Florence this has been.”

Best of Europe: The Charm of Venice

If you’ve been to Venice and haven’t been allured by its charm, you did it wrong. Too often people day-trip or cruise into Venice, stick to only the touristy sections (namely the area encompassing Rialto and Piazza San Marco), and never get beyond their comfort zone to allow themselves to discover the true magic of this water-logged city. Sure, it can be stressful to get disoriented and feel like you’re lost among tiny lanes or swarms of tourists and Venetians speaking every language except the one you understand, but remember: it’s an island–you can’t get that lost.

Being out amongst the crowds is a challenge during the day, but it’s certainly possible and easy to do (see this post). But Venice can be at its most delightful in the evening, when the day-trippers and cruisers have fled, when there’s only of smattering of visitors staying on the island, and–when conditions are right–you have a mild acqua alta.

Scirocco winds from the Sahara travel over the deserts of North Africa, northward along the Adriatic Sea, and make their way to Venice, sweep through the narrow tangle of streets that comprise the 117 islets of Venice. When the energy of the scirocco pushes water northward and meets right combination of full moon, lunar high tide, low pressure, and (sometimes) bad weather, you get acqua alta, and Venice floods.

On our first night together in Venice on our Best of Europe in 21 Days tour, Rick and I took the opportunity to break away from our group for some quality together time and a photo safari through the quasi saturated streets, campos, a one grand piazza of this iconic Italian city. It was the first time to experience the acqua alta, and it did not disappoint. It was tame enough that we didn’t need planks or over-the-knee boots, yet sufficient enough that our inner shutter bugs felt like butterflies, flitting from one place to another to capture beautiful angles, reflections, and moments in digital freeze-frame.

While trying to capture the essential allure of a place in a photo is a challenge, I hope you’ll enjoying perusing some of the magic we experienced on our acqua alta night in Venice. Click on the images below to enlarge.

Enjoying a perfect night together in Venice.

Few gondolieri brave the high water tonight in Venice.

Romance in Venice is everywhere you look.

Our friends Pat, Roberta, Brian, and Denise enjoy the table-side music at Caffè Florian, the worlds oldest café (1720).

A chorus line of empty gondole bob energetically on the high waters of Venice.

It’s hard for anyone to resist taking photos on such a lovely night.

It’s a moon like this that helps contribute to the acqua alta of Venice.

For hundreds and hundreds of centuries, visitors have flocked to Venice for commerce, faith, and tourism, and you, too, can be a part of the scene and enjoy its many charms.

Lights, silhouettes, lines, curves, reflections all make for good subject matter when photographing Venice at night.

The police are still on guard by are much more relaxed in a setting like this.

A family enjoys a moment together under the arches of Piazza San Marco.

I don’t know if this was a real bride and groom, but they certainly added to the magical ambience of the evening.

Don’t crane your neck to look up at the architecture, just look down at its reflection.

At night, it’s easy to have the city virtually all to yourself.

Best of Europe: Castle, Castle, Luge, Castle

For 21 days, Rick and I are tour members on one of his own tours: the Best of Europe. We’re trying to combine vacation with quality control and research. And it’s going great! Join us as we traipse from the Netherlands to Germany, Austria to Italy, and Switzerland to France with a terrific tour guide and 26 wonderful fellow tour members.

Everyone loves a good castle: romantic ones, ruined ones, humble ones, and over-the-top ones. Germany and Austria are rife with them–vestiges of a time long ago.

Rick and I enjoy the majestic views onto King Ludwig's Neuschwanstein Castle. — Rick and I enjoy the majestic views onto King Ludwig’s Neuschwanstein Castle.

Germany’s most well known castle is Bavarian King Ludwig II’s gem, Neuschwanstein (New Swan Stone). Built in the late 1800s, it’s the epitome of Romantic, Neo-Gothic architecture–über pointy and over-the-top elaborate. In a time when Germany was not the Germany we know today but rather a hodgepodge of dukedoms, princedoms, and kingdoms within the Prussian Empire, its various rulers looked to the Middle Ages for architectural, artistic, and political inspiration to lend credence to their own power and legitimacy. They embraced ancient legends and wove them into their own realities through architecture, decoration, and even music.

As a dear friend of composer Richard Wagner, Ludwig had rooms designed with murals depicting the stories of Wagnerian operas. He even had a performance hall constructed specifically to stage private productions of Wagner’s musical creations.

This model shows the original architectural plans for the castle. — This model shows the original architectural plans for the “Mad” king’s fairytale castle.

This extravagant castle, and several others that Ludwig built, nearly bankrupted his kingdom. People said he was crazy for spending so much money on silly castles and ignoring the needs of his countrymen. He was declared insane and was eventually dethroned. In a strange set of circumstances that are still unsolved, “Mad” King Ludwig and the psychiatrist who declared him insane were found dead, face down in the water. The irony is that these days, this fairytale castle that nearly bankrupted Bavaria brings in about €14 million annual in ticket sales.

One great view from the castle is to Marienbrücke or Mary's Bridge, which looms mightily over a powerful waterfall. — One great view from the castle is to Marienbrücke or Mary’s Bridge, which looms mightily over a waterfall, waaaaaay down below.

On our Best of Europe in 21 days tour, our group contributed to the country’s income by touring the castle. Grand rooms housed grand furniture, grand gifts from other royals, and many other knick-knacks suitable for a grand ego. While this wouldn’t be my Home and Gardens cup of tea, I can appreciate how a ruler’s need to display his wealth and power in such tumultuous times would drive a man to this kind of low ostentation. The views of the castle and views from the castle onto Mary’s Brook Bridge are more to my liking.

Hohenschwangau was Ludwig's childhood home and an inspiration for his own castle creations. — Hohenschwangau was Ludwig’s childhood home and an inspiration for his own castle creations.

From Neuschwanstein, Ludwig could look down on his childhood home, Hohenschwangau (High Swan District). Not nearly as fantastical, but still of the Romantic era, it’s an interesting visit to pair with Neuschwanstein to try to understand how Ludwig’s delusions of grandeur were probably influenced by his upbringing and his own parents’ lifestyle.

The ascent is slow, but you could actually fly out of the track if you luge too fast. — The ascent is slow, but you could actually fly out of the track if you luge too fast downhill.

After a double-castle day, we headed out for a brain-break, some fresh air, and some thrills. Nearby is a luge run, which, I’ve been told, is much less dangerous than the place Rick used to take his tour members back in the good ol’ days. Still, careening down a luge at what feels like break-neck speeds can be daunting to some. But if you stay focused, keep your head low, and remember that you engage the brake by pulling up on it, all should go well.

Rick is a real luge-lover and it shows on his happy face. — Rick is a real luge-lover, and it shows on his happy face.

There were many brave souls in our group, but my favorite thing was to see Rick’s face all aglow as he embraced his invincible inner child and serpentined as fast as he could down that run.

Still having a whole afternoon of free time ahead of us, Rick and our guide Reid suggested (to those who still had some stamina and energy) visiting one more castle: Ehrenburg, just over the border in Austria.

With a clear sky as backdrop, a gentle breeze, and a lemon yellow sun, we climbed steadily from the valley floor to the 13th-century castle in ruins. It was steep and a challenge for even the hardiest in our group, but we made it!

Thanks, Reid and Rick for bringing us up to this amazing 13th-century castle!

And the rewards were plenty: ice cold beer (courtesy of Reid–and me as his Sherpa), picturesque views of the surrounding valleys and mountains, and the chance to climb through and all over this 700-year-old Medieval fortress. And the best part was that we had the place to ourselves–no crowds, no entrance fees, no photo restrictions. We ruled Ehrenburg Castle that afternoon, simply because we took the initiative to do so. It was a real Back Door experience.

Terri, Reid, and Dave celebrate their successful climb to Ehrenburg Castle with an ice cold Stella.

I think I would have made a great knight.

To round out our visit, we popped into the museum (€3) back down at the bottom of the castle’s hill. It had enough information to be educational and enough videos and interactive displays to make it entertaining. Reid and I got into the spirit of things by dressing up as knights of the Middle Ages.

Rick shows us the photos of him getting "knighted" with his own name-engraved sword. — Rick shows us the photos of him getting “knighted” with his own name-engraved sword.

And seeing Rick’s own knight’s sword (he was “knighted” at Ehrenburg in 2008) and young Annaleise as a sword-wielding knight reminded us that it’s easy (and fun) to get caught up in the romance, history and adventure of these amazing castles.

Annaleise would have made a fearsome knight, too.

Best of Europe: Rothenburg

Stroll through Rothenburg early enough to beat the crowds.

Walking through Rothenburg in the middle of the day is a bit like slipping through a time-tunnel back to Medieval Germany. Its pastel half-timbered façades, pointy spires, delightful fountains, and small-town charm enchant visitors and make us all forget we have to share the cobbled streets with a swarm of crowds. And while you might feel like you’ve walked onto the set of a Walt Disney film, this town’s preserved-for-centuries appeal is the real deal. It’s because it was forgotten for so long that it survives today as it did hundreds of years ago.

The town flourished through the middle ages–for five centuries a crossroads of European commerce, ideas, and information. But with the 30 Years War in the 17th century (the fight between Catholics and Protestants), the wealthy city was suddenly a poverty stricken backwater. It was so poor, it was literally stuck in the past. Nothing new was built, nothing changed, and this former powerhouse became a veritable cocoon. Time marched on without Rothenburg.

Rothenburg remains mostly as it was 500 years ago. — Rothenburg remains mostly as it was 500 years ago and is practically tourist free in the upper part of town.

In the 19th-century, writers, artists and musicians uninspired by the Industrial Age, needed inspiration. They found it in time-passed places like Rothenburg. Through their writings, paintings, and music, they inspired wealthy Europeans to travel here on their Grand Tours of Europe. And the Rothenburg we know today–that place of half-timbered German dreams–was re-born. Ironically, the town’s poverty led to a new affluence as tourism breathed life into the once depressed place. People told their friends and families to come here. And they told their friends and families. And people came.

Even Rick gets charmed by Rothenburg. This 16th-century door was the inspiration for the cover of his first edition of Europe Through the Back Door.

The spell of romantic Rothenburg spread even to people who had never been there. One mother shared glowing memories of her visit in the late 1800s to Rothenburg with her son. Mementos from her trip hung on the wall. She firmly etched her love of the town in her son’s mind. And although he had never been there himself, he knew it intimately from the stories told to him by his mother.

Knowing the historic and cultural significance of Rothenburg from his mother’s descriptions, John J. McCloy (U.S. Assistant Secretary of War during World War II) became a pivotal figure in the town’s survival. Rather than bomb the town to destroy the Nazis that were holed up behind the town’s fortified walls, McCloy sent orders to not use artillery to take the town. Instead, he was instrumental in negotiating the Nazi troop’s surrender and saving the town from utter destruction. Thanks to him, we get to be tourists here today.

Like eager children following the Pied Piper, visitors go wherever the Night Watchman leads.

In the evening, Rick and I join about 80 other people (practically the only tourists who aren’t day-tripping but rather staying overnight in this town) for an “intimate” stroll with the Night Watchman. Decked out in a heavy black cloak and wielding his intimidating axe-like hellebard, his in-case-of-emergency horn, and hisiconic lantern, he shares tales of what it was like to be a medieval night watchman–the third lowest person in society, behind the executioner and the undertaker.

The Night Watchman keeps everyone hanging on his every word. — The Night Watchman charms everyone with his stories.

Riveted by his medieval stories of siege, tidbits about architectural features, and compelling details about WWII, we cling to his every word. He has a strangely unmelodic yet whimsical voice. He bellows his tales slowly, clearly, with just a tinge of a German accent, and his precise comedic timing throws us into fits of laughter. He’s been doing this every night for years, but it still feels fresh and unjaded. He’s the most famous citizen of Rothenburg, but it doesn’t seem to go to his head.

We know a great place you should visit, and it's called Rothenburg. — We know a great place you should visit, and it’s called Rothenburg.

While his walking tour is peppered with historical facts, the experience is more entertainment than a history lesson. But it doesn’t matter. Like those 19th-century writers that inspired so many travelers, the Night Watchman is getting people interested in this well-preserved and charming town of Rothenburg, so that, hopefully, they’ll tell their friends and families…and perhaps they’ll come visit, too.

In the evening, you have Rothenburg all to yourself.

Best of Europe: On the Rhine

For 21 days, Rick and I are tour members on one of his own tours: The Best of Europe. We’re trying to combine vacation with quality control and research. And it’s going great! Join us as we traipse from the Netherlands to Germany, Austria to Italy, and Switzerland to France with a terrific tour guide, a skillful bus driver, and 26 wonderful fellow tour members.

One of the intimate “Back Doors” spliced among all the blockbuster greatest hits on the Rick Steves’ Best of Europe tour is the town of Bacharach. Nestled along the Rhine River, it was once a temporary seat of power for the Holy Roman Empire, when Emperor Frederick Barbarossa went to the Holy Land to join the Crusades and put his brother (who happened to live in Bacharach) in charge. These days, the town has 2,000 residents, and scant remnants of a once-great empire linger in the form of fortified walls, a castle-turned-hostel, and a ruined Gothic church.

Ages-old vineyards blanket the steep hillsides of Bacharach.

Tourism is important here, and many visitors make the rounds as a hop-off point along their Rhine River cruise. The highlights are the aforementioned physical sites, as is the excellent wine (renowned since ancient Roman times), produced from local vineyards that have been maintained by the same families for as many as five hundred years.

But for our group, the real treasure of this town is visiting with Herr Jung. Now in his 80s, he’s one of the few residents who can recount living memories of his youth during World War II. As the town’s school headmaster, he has known virtually every townsperson since they were kids. He has a wealth of pride for his small town–combined with an enduring love of America for how his family was treated in the tough post-war years– and is always eager to share his knowledge.

Herr Jung, a treasure for Bacharach and any visitor fortunate enough to spend time with him.

When we meet up with Herr Jung early in the morning at Hotel Krannenturm, a little drizzle threatens to become persistent rain, but he leads us in a round of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” and amazingly, the skies temporarily clear. We shuffle slowly behind him as he guides us through the few, tiny lanes of his town. His eyes smile when he speaks of his former students and the impact they’ve had on him. His chest swells when he shows photos of Serbian and Croatian refugees he has helped over the years, knowing that they suffered in war as he did so many years ago. And you can feel his heart break when he recalls the suffering his Jewish neighbors went through during the war and the tough road to psychological, emotional, political, and financial reconciliation that he and all his countrymen endured in the aftermath of the war.

Even at his age, “Mr. Young” (the literal translation of Herr Jung) is heartier than most of us tour members, and he scrambles up the hillside vineyards like a mountain goat, helping the rest of us to get our footing and letting us catch our breath when needed. If ever there were a poster child for staying mentally and physically active for longevity, it would be this man.

Receiving a slate memento of their 40th anniversary and their visit to Bacharach, Terri and Dave will always fondly remember Herr Jung.

Near the end of our tour, he takes a piece of slate–typical stone of the region that influences the terroir of the local wine and is used for roofing–and inscribes the names of two tour members celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. His thoughtfulness is a souvenir they’ll cherish for years to come.

We're ready to storm Rheinfels Castle. — We’re ready to storm Rheinfels Castle.

Later that afternoon, we traveled back in time to medieval Germany when climbed a great hill overlooking the river to storm the now-frayed Rheinfels Castle downstream at St. Goar. In the Middle Ages–and even well into the 18th century–what we know now as the country of Germany was really a collection of princedoms and fiefdoms. Nobles who had land along the Rhine had their own dialects, determined their own system of weights and measurements, and could control transit and commerce along their segment of the river.

Even in ruins, today's visitor can appreciate how impressive Rheinfels Castle must have been in its heyday. — Even in ruins, today’s visitor can appreciate how impressive Rheinfels Castle must have been in its heyday.

Built during the 13th-century castle-building boom in the Rhineland to protect landowners, their crops, and the serfs who toiled the land, Rheinfels Castle was among the greatest in its day. Its defensive walls originally encircled thousands of acres, crossbow slits and hot oil chutes were the next line of defense against approaching invaders, and tunnels booby-trapped with gun powder ready to be ignited were the ultimate way to annihilate the enemy. If it ever came under siege, up to 4000 people could safely survive under the protection of their lord. In exchange for their liege’s promise of protection, these folks owed him allegiance, support in times of war, and a large percentage of their harvest. Life was brutal for a peasant who toiled endlessly with zero hope of social mobility and with death awaiting him at an early age. During these bleak and oppressive times, religion was the opiate of the masses.

My favorite tourist-traveler and knight in not-so-shining armor.

Because it was a pre-cannon age and defense was stronger than offense, Rheinfels was such a domineering stronghold that it rarely had to actually defend itself. Instead, the count who ruled here could concentrate on stopping river traffic and taxing the merchants who needed to get their goods to other parts of Europe. If the captain-merchant refused to pay, he was thrown into the dungeon with nothing but daily bread and water, fellow tax-evaders, and their own human waste for company. Few chose to stay there more than two days and forked over the ransomed tax. Eventually the fortress succumbed to a French Revolutionary army in 1797 and went the way of many German castles: it became a tourist site.

Whether on a hill or on an island in the river, castles populate all parts of the Rhineland.

As we cruise our way back to Bacharach, numerous castles polka dot the banks of the romantic Rhine. Passing under the shadows of former princedoms and watching them diminish in the distance, it makes me think how much history this region of Germany has seen and how far this country has come since its feudalistic past: uniting under Prussian influence as a republic in 1871, its aggression and its destruction in both World Wars, and even to now, becoming financially, politically, and socially stable–so much so that Germany is now a leading voice and economic power within the European Union.

Germany’s history can be complex and overwhelming to a tourist. And just as Herr Jung’s personal story of life on the Rhine is interwoven with elements of humanity and hope and swaths of brutality and pain, so, too, is the story of the German people. All we can filter out, sometimes, are our broad impressions: mighty castles, unification, war, dominance, destruction, rebirth, and stability. And sometimes that’s enough. But my personal challenge on this trip is to learn to see beyond that. By learning personal stories from people like Herr Jung; putting myself in the mindset of a robber-baron count or a sweaty peasant; grappling with tough issues like war, political upheaval, and death; and discovering how a country’s past shapes its present and its future, I hope to gain a better understanding and a deeper appreciation of all these countries I’ll be visiting for the next three weeks.

The Best of Europe: The Netherlands

Prior to the start of our tour, Rick and I had one free day in Amsterdam. Thank goodness he knows the right people. Majel, who runs Wetland Safaris, took us by canoe through the polderlands (former marshes, now peat land puzzle pieces with canal arterials) just north of the city. It was delightful get some outdoor exercise, to see this area from water level and jump around on the bouncy earth that essentially floats on the water.

Jodi explains the dishes we'll be enjoying for our rijsttafel. — Jodi explains the dishes we’ll be enjoying for our rijsttafel.

We met up with our group that evening in Haarlem, a small town just half an hour from Amsterdam. You can imagine the looks of shock and awe when the tour members realized Rick would be joining them for the next 21 days (we had signed up under pseudonyms). Once heart rates returned to normal, we headed off to an elaborate Indonesian-Dutch rijsttafel, or rice table, dinner (Indonesia is a former Dutch colony). Four-meter long tables are lined with a myriad of Indonesian dishes, which everyone savors family-style.

A prepared traveler is a smart traveler.

Our new friend Roberta has some dietary restrictions, but like any good travel, she is well prepared. For every country we’re visiting, she’s prepared various “I can’t eat this” cards, written in the local languages for the countries we’ll visit. She doesn’t have to worry about miscommunication and the restaurant staff is stress-free and happy to accommodate her.

Plan ahead: book a reservation time for museum entries or wait in lines like these.

The next day was a full one in Amsterdam, and in a city as popular as this, traveling in a group like ours has its advantages. While most people who weren’t savvy enough to make an appointment for their Anne Frank Museum entry would wait for over an hour in the line, our group had a reservation and were the first (and only) people in the museum at 8:45. It’s a real luxury to be able to linger and move within a tiny space without sixty other people pushing you. It allows you to take your time to learn more and process better the historical and emotional impact of what the young Anne Frank and her family went through in World War II Amsterdam. Rick and I were the first people that day to step through the bookcase and into the hidden world of Anne and her family.

Robert teaches us that even a still-life can reveal so much about the Golden Age of Dutch art and society.

After a walking tour of the city, we joined a quality local guide at the newly re-opened Rijksmuseum. He was expert at connecting the style, technique, and subject matter with the religious, political, and financial atmosphere of the Dutch Golden Age. The Netherlands–moving towards Protestantism–was separating from its Catholic Spanish Hapsburg overlords. Merchants were the civic leaders and had enough money to commission private works, rather than the Church paying for art to adorn their houses of worship.

It's hard for even Rick to resist taking a picture of one of the Western World's greatest masterpieces. — It’s hard for even Rick to resist taking a picture of one of the Western World’s greatest masterpieces.

In the museum, Dutch masterpieces biggies by Rembrandt and Vermeer are proudly displayed like altarpieces in a church of art. Art enthusiasts and neophytes alike stand humbly before them in wide-eyed admiration and snap selfies and wide shots to prove they’ve been face-to-face with the greats. Even Rick gets in on the fun.

A canal boat ride gently rocked me into nap-land for a little while, and the walk through the Red Light District proved entirely uneventful: no one in the windows. But even if there had been, a walk through this area of town reminds visitors that Amsterdam–which has always been a port town (Hello, sailor!), a city of major commerce from all over the world for centuries (interaction, cooperation, and integration, with many ethnic groups), and, since the split with the Hapsburgs, a religiously and morally tolerant community–is a city that understands that people are human and capable of making their own adult decisions.

What we would deem as crimes in the United States (i.e., prostitution and drug use) are considered social and health issues in the Netherlands, dealt with in creative ways that work for their social ethics. That means that both prostitution and marijuana use are tolerated, regulated, and taxed. Prostitutes don’t run to a pimp for help; they have an emergency button to alert the police if they are in danger. They also get licences only after regular health check-ups to prevent the spread of disease. Per capita drug use in the Netherlands is lower than in the U.S., and drug addiction is addressed as health issue rather than throwing everyone in jail.

It's so easy to get excited over tulips at Keukenhof. — It’s so easy to get excited over tulips at Keukenhof.

The next morning, we succumbed to Tulip Mania at Keukenhof, a 79-acre flower garden–the world’s second largest. Covered with virtually every variety of tulip, bursting with the colors of 7 million blooming bulbs, it was easy to understand why these non-native plants, whose name is derived from the word Turkish word tülbent or “turban” (they were originally brought to the Netherlands from the mountainous regions near Turkey, Afghanistan, and China), were considered luxuries and status symbols for 16th- and 17th-century elites. People were so crazy about flowers, which were traded like futures, the inevitable economic tulip “bulb-ble” burst in 1637. Investors were ruined and Dutch commerce nose-dived.

Turban-->tufjdkjd-->tulip — Turban–>tülbent–>tulip

Lucky for us, today’s Dutch tulip growers and exporters work collaboratively to bolster their floriculture industry and showcase their commodities, so visitors–like those on our Rick Steves’ Best of Europe tour–can “ooh” and “ahh” and have their own temporary Tulip Mania.

Our group is in for lots of great adventures and tons of fun as we explore the Best of Europe.

Next stop: The Rhine. Stay tuned…

New York, NY Part 6: Where the Past Meets the Present

Taking a ferry boat from Manhattan to Liberty Island is easy and rewarding.

Our last day in New York granted me and Rick some much-welcomed alone time; Jackie, Linda, and Caleigh had returned home, Nikki was off to Vienna, and Andy caught up on some sleep. The early morning was crisp, and our heavy coats, gloves, and hats were little match for the windy chill off the Hudson River. Cruising on a ferryboat to Liberty Island and Ellis Island, where so many immigrants had first come to America, our patriotic pride swelled as we passed beneath the gaze of the Statue of Liberty and looked back at the Manhattan’s ever-evolving skyline. Both of us–like the majority of our fellow citizens–are descendants of immigrants. My parents came to America from the Philippines in the mid-60s. Rick’s great-grandparents on both sides of his family emigrated from Norway. We often remark on how grateful we are that our families took the risk to leave their homeland for the prospect of a new life with better opportunities for themselves and their loved ones. And we’re both impressed by how quickly a family intent on assimilating and embracing what America is all about can become integral parts of our country.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your " — “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.. “

Every day, ferryboats make hourly trips to see “Lady Liberty” (her French name is Liberté elcairant le monde or Liberty Enlightening the World) and are generally packed to capacity. As a gift from the French for the centennial celebration of America’s birth, she has stood majestically on Liberty Island since 1886 as a beacon of hope and opportunity for all. Emma Lazarus wrote, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tossed, to me; I will lift my lamp beside the golden door.” Looking at the other smiling passengers on the boat and listening to the happy cacophony of languages and accents humming in the air, I understood that we were all sharing something more than a sightseeing excursion: we were united in our desire for the universal–not just American–freedom and hope that the Statue of Liberty has come to symbolize.

As visitors stroll at our own pace with our audioguides, everyone takes advantage of the great photo ops. — As visitors stroll at their own pace with our audioguides, everyone takes advantage of the great photo ops.

Dealing with the chill of that blustery day along with the literally teary emotion of standing before the Statue of Liberty, I found it challenging to keep myself composed for any stretch of time. We listened to the informative and insightful audioguide that told stories of the construction, the structure, the symbolism, and the history (some of it conflicted, as when women were barred from attending the dedication ceremony). A full spectrum of feelings flooded through me: gratitude, pride, pity, wonder, humility, shame, frustration, admiration, and hope. It was a helpful reminder that while we’ve come a long way as a country, we still have much progress to make.

We continued our route to Ellis Island. Used as an inspection station from 1892-1954, more than 12 million immigrants were processed through this facility–about 40% of today’s U.S. population can trace their ancestry to those who came through this island. Still, many were refused entry due to illness, insufficient funds (the U.S. wanted to be sure you could sufficiently get by, at least for a while), improper “moral fitness”, and (at one time) illiteracy. They were sent back home on the same ships upon which they had arrived.

The Great Hall: 12 million hopeful immigrants waited here to be processed for entry into the United States.

While the museum is scant and original artifacts are lacking, it was nonetheless impressive to stand in the Great Hall, where travel-weary, seasick, and disheveled people full of aspirations–to 10,000 a day–had come to gain access to a better life.

We finished our visit with 20 minutes to kill before the ferry back to Manhattan. A white-haired woman approached us and said, “Have you tried our new records database? We officially opened it this morning.” Intrigued, we sat down at a computer terminal and input info about Rick’s biological great-grandfather (Rick’s dad was given the last name of his stepfather). It was a total shot in the dark because we didn’t know much about him or how he actually came to the U.S. We knew his first and last names, and we calculated a rough estimate of when he would have left Norway, based on when his son (Rick’s grandfather) must have been born.

We found nothing. The elderly docent saw our frustration, asked us some questions, and input more information. How she knew what to enter, I don’t know, but within a few clicks, we were looking at Rick’s great-grandfather’s immigration records:

John Romstad.; 32; traveling with Nels Tornfeldt; laborer; Norwegian; last residence, Namdalen; port of departure, Liverpool; final destination, Duluth; possessions, £25; joining a relative, No.

The manifest for the White Star and proof of Rick's great-grandfather entering the U.S. through Ellis Island. — The manifest for the White Star and proof of Rick’s great-grandfather entering the U.S. through Ellis Island.

Thanks to the Ellis Island digital records database, Rick has found his great-grandfather.

We stared at the screen through the distortion of water-filled eyes. It was the second time that day that Rick and I had cried. But this time it wasn’t because of a connection to humanity at large, but rather because Rick had just unlocked a key to his own family. Suddenly, the past and the present were aligned, and Rick added a new dimension to his identity and personal history.

We rode the ferry back to Manhattan but felt like we were floating on clouds, still stunned and elated by the historical discovery we had made. We imagined John’s struggles to leave his Norwegian family, to save up enough money to journey across the Atlantic, and to start anew in a foreign land. If not for the sacrifices and efforts of his great-grandfather, who knows where Rick would be today. We are the sum of the lives, the histories, and the knowledge that come before us, and now Rick had a new piece to help complete his own puzzle. Thank God for John and his quest for a new life in country that embraces freedom, and thank the U.S.A. for welcoming him into a country where people can reach for the sky and get there.

One World Trade Center rises high above the Manhattan skyline as the tallest skyscraper in the western hemisphere.

Back in the city, we finished our day at New York’s newest symbol of hope and freedom: One World Trade Center. Andy joined us there. The crowds were plentiful at the National September 11 Memorial, but the scene was tranquil and reverent. Sheet-like cascades feed enormous square memorial pools on the footprints of the Twin Towers, representing the tears shed by people around the world for the tragic and cruel loss of life on 9/11. For many, it’s a past that is still so near and one that has greatly changed our present-day lives…some would say for the worse. But like an exclamation point of optimism, America’s monolith of Freedom, towers above the cityscape. It is a feat of engineering and a new beacon of triumph, rising figuratively and literally from the ashes, towards the clouds, proud and sure.

Sheets of water fall endlessly into one of the square pools where the Twin Towers once stood.

We mostly kept silent as we wandered the grounds at our own pace. When the three of us came together to reflect on our perceptions, it was clear how impressed we were by the layout, the architecture, the grandness, and the intimacy of it all. But for us, the message–which is as true now as it has ever been and will always be–was the biggest highlight: hope and freedom will always triumph over fear. I’m so glad we ended our trip to New York on such a high note. While this was meant to be a family vacation, it ended up being a powerful learning experience on so many levels. We embraced the multi-faceted culture of New York City, made stronger connections to the city through a family member’s art, grew closer as a family, discovered new links to America’s and our family’s past, and bolstered our hopes for a promising future. Our lives have been enriched and enlarged by this jouney. And isn’t that what travel is all about?