culture – Page 2 – Destination NOW

Santiago de Compostela

I didn’t know until I got there that Galicia normally gets an abundance of rain, which is why it is such a lush, green region. I THOUGHT I was adequately prepared for wet weather, because I had packed two hooded jackets, fleece lined pants and silk long underwear, but I forgot the most important item: zapatos impermeables (waterproof shoes). Luckily, our hotel was across from a sports store that carried waterproof sketchers in my size. Prior to that purchase, however, (as I mentioned in an earlier post), we walked the last five kilometers of the Camino in a downpour. Let me tell ya, medieval cobblestone streets retain lots of water between those rocks!

I bought the umbrella in Bilbao when my luggage was lost.

I had the full Pilgrim experience; I was soaked and completely miserable. It was definitely NOT one would consider a spiritual feeling. By the time we got to the hotel, my feet were so wet, I had to dry them with a towel. On a positive note—the hotel had a heated towel bar in the bathroom, but sadly it only functioned between 7 and 11 pm. Still, that was long enough to dry out my sodden socks, clothes and backpack.

If someone forced me (at gunpoint) to choose between walking El Camino or running with the bulls, that day I would have taken my chances with the bulls. (I would have carefully chosen a stretch that allowed for a speedy exit.) But, then again, if I had done so, I would not have earned the right to sport one of these lovely pilgrim tattoos.

It’s hard to get lost on El Camino because the scallop shells point the way. They are EVERYWHERE. This sign also marks distance from the start of the French Way —4,790 kilometers—of which we did about 32 KM, or less than 10%

Before this trip, I had thought that there was ONE El Camino. NOW I know there are several: The French, the Portuguese, — we walked segments of both—the Via de la Plata (silver way), the Camino del Norte, the Primitive Way, to name a few. Regardless of which Camino you select, the destination is the same, the Cathedral of Saint James (Santiago).

Beneath that yellow umbrella is our local guide, Marian, regaling us with the legend of St James. WE were a shivering mass, huddled together under a nearby portico.

The cathedral from a different vantage point, a public park. Photo taken in between showers.

With all the wind and rain, I couldn’t take notes, so I’m operating strictly on memory. Here’s the part of the legend that I recall: a peasant (fisherman? shepherd? Some random guy?) in the first century (around 820 AD) saw a light shining down from the heavens several nights in a row, in the exact same spot. He recognized it as a message from God instructing him to dig, and when he did, he discovered the bones of a skeleton who had been beheaded. The church leaders made a rather large leap of faith and deduced that since St James had been beheaded, the skeleton must be that apostle. Over the ensuing centuries a cathedral was built and over time, the city of Santiago de Compostela grew around the cathedral.

Back then, pilgrims made the journey for religious reasons, to get a plenary indulgence (skip purgatory) or to avoid jail time. Yes, you read that right. Marian explained that people who committed minor crimes back then were given a choice…walk several hundred miles or go to jail.

Fast forward a few centuries—today’s visitors can view this silver box that contains what the faithful believe is St James bones,

and can admire the cathedral’s beautiful interior.

My cell phone’s zoom isn’t very powerful, so I’ll describe the central image of the main altar. It’s St. James, riding a horse and brandishing a sword, which wasn’t exactly how the apostles were described in the Bible.

Santiago’s old town is a maze of narrow cobblestone streets, filled with restaurants, bars and souvenir shops, so after our first day in Santiago, I’d seen enough of the city. I welcomed the opportunity to spend the day in Pontevedra and Combarro on an optional trip OAT offered.

Pontevedra, founded by the Romans, gave us a break from the crowded streets of Santiago. It is also the site of an unusual church, with a floor shaped like a scallop shell. Or so I was told.

I’ll be honest. The church was clearly round, unlike any I’ve ever seen before. But I wasn’t able to pick up any resemblance to a scallop shell in the interior. Take a look. Maybe you’ll have better luck.

Despite the intermittent showers, it was a delightful day.

Combarro reminded me of Southeastern Massachusetts. I recall watching Sandy, my sister, digging up clams and quahogs with her toes in Mattapoisett bay.

Here in Combarro, it’s a highly regulated business, with strictly enforced limits on what can be harvested.

Our day ended with a pleasant surprise—a procession outside our hotel. I was already in my jammies, but when I heard the drums, I dashed onto my balcony to take this photo.

Fortunately, our trip leader was on the street and sent us a video.

Is it just me or does that statue of Jesus make it look like he needs a foundational garment?

Next stop, Portugal for 5 days, then home.

Street Art in Cuenca

On our last day in Cuenca, we were free to spend the morning exploring on our own. I walked to the Pumapungo Museum, which is about a mile from the hotel, along La Calle Larga. I was wishing my buddy Elsie had taken the post trip with me, because she would have enjoyed the street art as much as I did. So Elsie, this one’s for you. No narrative, just visuals.

They even paint the poles!

I’m not sure why this art was defaced with graffiti. I thought there were rules.

Cartagena, Then and Now

I first visited Cartagena in 2010, when Mike, Greg and I took an Oceania cruise through the Panama Canal. I was immediately charmed by this fascinating city, and became determined to return to Cartagena and to explore more of Colombia.

For most of the ports, we opted to go off on our own, rather than take a cruise sponsored tour. That was the case in Cartagena, where we were able to cover most of the high points in the old city, during our too brief time in port.

Here is what the “new” section of Cartagena looked like in 2010.

Fast forward to 2025. Both photos were taken from the enormous fort the Spaniards built to protect the area from pirates. Can you tell which photo was taken with a camera, and which was taken with my iPhone?

It is possible to travel from the top of the fort to the bottom through narrow, low tunnels. When we visited in 2010, we attempted to do just that, but as we approached the exit, our guide discovered it was flooded, so we had to walk ALL the way back to the top. Poor Mike was unable to stand upright!

I know many people have strong opinions about cruises versus land travel. It was interesting to experience both in the same city. Although vastly different, I discovered I thoroughly enjoyed both, but for very different reasons. As with everything in life, both travel modes have advantages.

When we cruised, we always opted for a smaller ship, chosen for its fabulous itinerary. Cruising allowed us to unpack once, travel while we slept and awaken someplace great every single day. It provided us with a taste of many different areas, so we could determine which country we might want to explore in more depth in the future. And, if you happened to get sick, or have an accident, the ship had a fully equipped medical center on board. But your time in port is limited; you normally have to be back aboard the ship around 5PM, unless you chose a cruise that spent more than one night in a particular port. And there ain’t many of those.

For the OAT land trip, we spent three nights in Cartagena, which allowed us to slow down and savor our time there . We saw SOME of the areas we visited on our whirlwind day in 2010, like the former convent of the Sisters of the Poor Clares, but instead of just driving by it, Leslie ( another new friend) and I went to the bar to watch the sunset.

Those of you who read my pre-trip post may recall the special drinks and the tours of the former convent described on the hotel’s website. Well, although getting lost while searching for the rooftop bar allowed us to see a whole lot of the convent, it certainly didn’t qualify as a tour (they don’t give them any more), and although my pisco sour was delicious, it didn’t have what the website called “magical” properties.

What the rooftop bar DID have was a DJ, and lots of young people, staring at their phones.

So, we took our sunset photos, admired the view, and that pisco sour? It was consumed in a quiet, “historical” bar on the first floor.

The view of the ocean, and the only spot at the bar from which you can see the sunset.

Remember the popular image of Colombia as a dangerous place? Well, Leslie and I were perfectly comfortable walking the streets at night and when he noticed we were hopelessly lost, this sweet young Colombian approached us, offered help and walked us back to our hotel.

This was a very common experience: a waitress chased me down the street because I had left my hat in the restaurant, street vendors accepted your “no, gracias” when they approached you, but then engaged you in conversation so they could practice speaking English. Everyone we encountered was friendly, gracious and oh so welcoming.

As you have seen in my earlier posts, the streets of Colombia are very colorful , and Cartagena is no exception.

The woman in the black leather “bondage” outfit is Shakira, who has an apartment in Cartagena, overlooking the ocean. Our carriage driver pointed it out as we rode along the ocean on our way to our farewell dinner. He also claimed he was Shakira’s novio ( boyfriend— see, those Spanish lessons DID come in handy!)

Did you know that Colombia was the inspiration for Disney’s movie, Encanto? I sure didn’t.

Sorry, the sun was in the wrong spot when I took this photo. Anyone who saw the movie will recognize the cartoon character immortalized on the wall, but did you know her image was based on an actual resident of Colombia?

There was so much to see in the neighborhood of Getsemaní, I had difficulty choosing the most compelling street image, so I decided to include several.

During our trip we experienced MANY different modes of transportation- boats, metro system, cable cars, jeeps, tuk tuks and best of all, the PARTY bus,

which came fully equipped with live music, so we were serenaded all the way to Bocavilla, an African Colombian community located on the beach.

Our musicians played European, African and Caribbean instruments

While in Bocavilla, we had drumming and dance lessons which were SO much fun! The musicians and dancers were students at a school established to preserve their African/Caribbean culture.

Seven of us are at the airport heading off to Quito for a week in Ecuador, so it’s time to press publish and hope for the best.

Bogotá, Colombia, Part 2

I wish my memory functioned the way it used to. I’m lucky if I retain 20% of what I’ve learned, and boy, have I ever learned a lot during my four days in Bogotá!

On our walking tour, our local guide shared interesting facts about Simon Bolivar that didn’t quite make it into our history books. He was only 19 when his wife died; she made him promise never to marry again, but she forgot to mention lovers. That was probably a good thing, because one of his lovers, Manuelita Saenz saved his life. Her house was down the street from his, close enough to allow them to use candles to schedule rendezvous times. She was watching for his signal when she saw a large group of heavily armed men in the mountains heading toward his house, so she quickly rushed Bolivar to safety. Manuelita’s house is now a museum very close to our hotel, but unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time to visit it.

Instead, I spent some of my “on your own” time in two of the several free museums in Bogotá funded by the National Bank. The original source of that money, however, was the USA. No, not from foreign aid money. It was from a lawsuit Colombia initiated against USA over the Panama Canal. And we lost so we had to pay just under $ 30 million to Columbia. At one time, thanks to Simon Bolivar, Colombia included what is now Panama, Venezuela, Ecuador and Peru.

Both museums had beautiful central courtyards surrounded by exhibition rooms.

Botero definitely had a fascination with big butts and legs.

In fact, ALL of his subjects were very well fed. The painting that follows is entitled “Woman with a parrot” which was not the first thing I noticed.

But I digress. Back to the walking tour. Cama, our local guide, took us to the Gold Museum, where we learned that back in pre Spanish times, gold was valued for spiritual reasons. Like many other cultures, the indigenous people were sun worshipers. They believed the more gold you could load onto your body, the closer you were to the sun god.

The object below is considered one of the most important in the museum. It shows the leader on a raft, surrounded by followers who were tossing gold objects into the lake as offerings to the sun god.

Many of the objects in the gold museum were saved from the Spaniards because they had been tossed into bodies of water. Others were discovered in gardens because the owners buried them to keep them from being stolen and after they were killed, if there were any survivors, they couldn’t find the buried “treasures”.

Although we were supposed to be on our own after lunch, Alejo had thoughtfully arranged transportation to Monserrate and Cama graciously accompanied us.

In my opinion, Monserrate is a much better choice than the salt cathedral. We rode a cable car to the summit. Although there weren’t many people at the bottom of the mountain, Cama asked the cable operator about the number of people at the summit, and wisely advised us to purchase “skip the line” tickets. Good thing, because the line to descend was so long, we would have been standing there for hours!

At Monserrate, we got a spectacular view of the city. But wait, there’s more! The church was very different from any that I had ever been in. When you enter a church, what do you normally see? A huge cross, with a very European Jesus hanging from it, right? Take a look at THIS church.

Here’s a close up. Don’t you think it’s far more realistic depiction of Jesus? I suspect back then, his skin was more of a Middle Eastern color.

The photo for this post’s banner is one of the church’s stained glass windows. Take a close look, because it has something I have never, ever seen on ANY church’s window (trust me, I’ve visited countless churches) and don’t expect to ever see it again. Who can spot it? I’ll give you a hint. Look near the top.

The LAST unique aspect of the church that I noticed was the “miracle area”, where people thanked “El Señor” for granting their wishes by buying a plaque. Notice the one from Luis Fernando Rendón thanking El Señor for making it possible for him to move to New York and for giving him health and strength to care for his family. It’s the gold one in the photo below.

Here’s a photo that Cama took of 11 of the 15 of us on the tour.

Although OAT offered an optional tour, not enough of the group chose to take it, so instead, we got another unstructured day. Elsie and decided to take the free graffiti tour, and it was FANTASTIC!

I had no idea that Bogotá has 6000 kilometers of “legal” street art, with another 1000 of “illegal” (unapproved). The tour was conducted by an artist who showed us one of his works. It depicts a creation myth. I don’t remember ALL of the story, but here’s the gist.

These two will be perpetually young so long as they stay faithful. When the man notices his skin is getting wrinkled, he realizes he’d been betrayed, so he killed his rival. Sorry, I don’t remember how the emerald and the snake tied in to the myth, but they did. And I remember the man ultimately committed suicide. Once again, it was all HER fault.

The next one was commissioned by Peru, as an act of reconciliation. For what, I don’t recall.

The words read “No one is illegal. Strength in unity”.

I love this next one of five young indigenous girls (I could only get four into the photo).

The artists asked them about their hopes for their future, and as they were thinking about their dreams, they smiled. The artists captured that moment in a photo and that became their model for this mural.

There was a whole lot more art, and MUCH more interesting narrative, but this post is getting rather long. Our next to the last stop was on a bridge, where our artist guide took this photo. The tall structure in the background is significant because it is the highest building in Colombia, completely empty, because it is tilting, like the tower in Pisa. It is also significant because a graffiti artist has placed his “tag” on the very top of the building. And if you want to know more about the interaction among graffiti, music, and common words in our culture, you’ll just have to take the tour.

I’ll close with photos of the newest artists

And their work

Hey, it ain’t as easy as you might think!

Maasai Culture

Warning: This might not be a good post to read to children.

Yet another reason I choose to travel with OAT is the opportunity to learn about the culture of the places we visit. I also love that a portion of our payment for the trip goes back to the communities with whom we interact.

Our morning in a Maasai village was VERY educational. So, of course I feel compelled to share what I learned with you.

Did you ever wonder how you get goats to practice birth control? Let this Maasai chief show you. That yellow barrier strapped behind the goat’s forelegs stops his “love potion” from reaching its intended target.

I confess that I was slightly confused. I thought it was a GOOD thing to have lots of goats and sheep. Seleman, our wonderful trip leader, explained that for goats, like humans, timing is everything in life. The Maasai want to make sure baby goats are born when their likelihood of survival is maximized, so when the timing is right, the shield comes off.

Next the Assistant Chief explained (in perfect English) the tribal hierarchy. He described some of the Maasai rituals, the most memorable (to me) being circumcision. It is performed in public, without anesthesia, on a group of 12 to 14 year old boys. If they don’t cry out or even flinch, they are deemed worthy to become warriors. After surviving the ritual, the group goes into the bush for three months. When they return to the tribe they are then considered to be men.

Before climate change decimated their herd of cattle, reducing it from 290 to 10, the Maasai used to drink cow’s blood every morning. They made a shallow incision into the cow’s jugular, collecting at least a liter before they stuffed the cow’s wound with herbs.

If you ever doubt the impact that one amazing woman can have, let me introduce you to Lucy. For the past 13 years, Lucy has visited over 100 villages, providing health education, including speaking out against what WE call FGM ( female genital mutilation). What THEY call “the cut” was deeply imbedded in the culture and traditions. They believed undergoing this public procedure transformed a girl into a woman, and thus enabled her to be married. Like circumcision, removal of the clitorus and labia was done without anesthesia, by a “midwife” and women were expected to endure the pain without crying out. Lucy underwent “the cut” when she was 14. (She admitted to crying and screaming).

Although the government banned FGM in 2003, there was no follow up, so the practice continued. It certainly wasn’t easy, but after years of hard work, Lucy succeeded in eliminating FGM for about 99% of the girls in the villages she visited.

Lucy understood she had to “humble herself” in order to get her message across. To ME, however, Lucy is the embodiment of Katy Perry’s song “Roar”, especially these lines:

“ You held me down, but I got up, already brushing off the dust, I went from zero to my own hero…

I am the champion and you’re gonna hear me ROAR”

After the Maasai village visit, we headed to an elementary school that has been a recipient of funds from OAT’s Grand Circle’s foundation.

There are only 12 teachers for 183 girls and 230 boys. That’s quite a teacher/student ratio! .

While there, we learned how the Foundation‘s money was used. The first purchase was a copy machine, so the teachers wouldn’t have to walk for 45 minutes to the closest copier.

Under construction were bathrooms with flush toilets that will replace the two squat toilets currently being shared by all the students (and that some of us used during our visit).

During our interaction with the children, we told them a little about ourselves, where we were from (notice the map of the USA on the wall) and what our occupations were.

Fellow traveler Kalpana was by far the most inspirational. She told the students that she had attended a school just like theirs when she was growing up in India. Her hard work enabled her to become a doctor. Kalpana encouraged the kids to study, work hard and dream big.

I know, I know. I lured you in with that elephant photo atop this post. We will get to the elephants, cheetahs, lions and monkeys…and that post WILL be suitable to read to the kiddies. I promise, but first I wanted to share these meaningful and inspiring moments.

I’ll end this post with a photo of our group hanging out in a baobab tree.

Nairobi, Kenya

Okay, I’ll admit it. I came perilously close to becoming an “ugly American”. When I saw that the itinerary included a morning spent in the Kibera Slum, I seriously considered sitting out the visit. Why would I want to spend time in an area inhabited by 1.5 million people, jammed into a space smaller than New York’s Central Park?

Fortunately, the wonderful travelers on the Friends of Overseas Adventure Facebook page set me straight, and I’m so glad they did.

The area certainly has its share of the usual social problems. Blackie, our escort and Kibera guide, told us that when the police refused to safeguard the inhabitants, some members of the community administered “street justice”, which proved to be quite effective in reducing crime and violence.

The community has created their own schools and has organized programs to help their children make the right choices.

What we experienced during our visit was truly inspiring. Although the slum residents had few material possessions, no running water and lived in tiny shacks, they had a real sense of community, tremendous support for one another, and amazing resilience.

The friendly and curious children LOVED getting their picture taken-especially when I showed them their photos.

During our visit we were welcomed into two homes. In the first, three people (mom, dad and teenaged daughter) shared ONE tiny room. The daughter was sitting on the bed, because there was no place else to sit, playing a game on her cell phone. I continue to be amazed by the impact Steve Jobs’ “invention” has had on our planet. This device, which didn’t even exist 30 years ago has become essential to us all.

The second visit was to the home of Blackie, a three room hut that he shared with his wife, youngest son and grandson.

Kalpana and Ahit, two members of our group viewing the photo of our host’s grandson.

The grandson was so pleased with the photo that I took of him that he showed everyone, exclaiming “ that’s me”!

One of the many reasons I continue to travel with OAT is because of experiences like these. I never would have done them on my own, either because I didn’t know they existed, or my prejudgement was so very wrong.

Kobe Tough, our afternoon destination, exists because of the devastating impact climate change has had on the Maasai. Any American who doesn’t “believe” in climate change should come to Africa and speak to the people to whom it is a daily reality.

Successive years of drought killed the cattle the Maasai women depended on as their sole source of income, so they needed to find an alternate way to earn money.

They now make beautiful ceramic beads, which are hand painted and made into jewelry. I felt good buying bracelets, earrings and rings from their on-site store, knowing that the money will help these women support their families. The header for this post is a photo of some of their beautiful jewelry in their on site store. But you don’t need to go to Nairobi to own one of these unique pieces — you can buy direct from their website.

https://kobetough.com

If you visit Kobe Tough, you will meet the bead makers, who then entertain you with a wonderful rendition of “Jambo Bwana” ( hello, sir). And when they invite you to dance, I hope you’ll join them!

Another highlight of our stay in Nairobi was our visit to its national museum. I could have spent the entire day there! Did you know there are 1,500 different bird species in Kenya? I sure didn’t. You can see 900 of them displayed in the museum.

Who knew that hippos were related to dolphins and whales?

I wasn’t able to get a good shot of the remains of Turkana boy, which isn’t surprising, given that he’s 1.6 million years old. His skeleton was discovered in 1984, on the shores of Lake Turkana, giving us valuable insight into the evolution of Homo sapiens.

There is so much more to say about Nairobi, but this post is already getting long, so I’ll end with one final thought from the museum.

Next stop will be Maasai Mara National Reserve.

Rwanda

I had been dreading the long flight to Rwanda, especially because it departed from Newark after midnight. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. Thanks to zolpidem, I was able to sleep on the plane, despite a whole lotta shakin’ going on.

I would have given myself the “seasoned traveler” award for anticipating that my luggage would be left behind in Istanbul. Upon landing in Kigali, I checked my AirTag and learned my luggage was 2,975 miles from me. So, I wasted no time watching other people’s bags pop out of the chute. Nope. I immediately took myself to the lost luggage desk to complete the necessary paperwork.

My backpack contained one change of clothes, my Jammie’s, chargers and toiletries, plus my credit card, cash and camera. Everything I needed for a couple of days.

Did you notice I said I WOULD have given myself the award? That’s because it got snatched away when I made the rookie mistake of putting a tube of toothpaste (big enough to last the entire trip) in my backpack. The toothpaste, plus my seasoned traveler award, got tossed in a trash bin at Newark Airport.

That AirTag was worth every penny I paid for it. I was able to watch my luggage travel to Lebanon, then Ethiopia, till it eventually showed up in Kigali a day later. Although airport staff had my phone number, email and hotel info, no one ever contacted me. Thanks to my AirTag, I didn’t waste time on the phone making international calls, trying to find someone who could give me information about my bag.

As they say in OAT world, this was a learning and discovery experience. I learned that the airline would not deliver my bag to the hotel. Instead, I had to drag my sorry ass to the airport, and then discover how very tight Rwandan security is. We had to get out of our vehicle, which was thoroughly inspected by people plus a sniffing dog, then once I got to the terminal, I had to go thru security AGAIN and visit 3 different places before my bag and I were joyously reunited. Fortunately, Fred( my hero and our driver) guided me thru the entire process.

The best thing about travel is it gives you perspective. After visiting the Kigali Genocide Memorial, delayed luggage becomes a teeny, tiny, minor irritant.

30 years ago, over the course of 100 days, more than a million Rwandans were murdered. The victims were mostly Tutsi, but Hutus who refused to go along with the killing were also massacred.

Believing that churches were safe havens, many Tutsi sought shelter in the Nyamata Catholic Church. Shamefully, the Catholic priest did nothing to stop the slaughter. The perpetrators threw grenades inside the packed church, then attempted to finish off anyone still alive, with machetes and guns.

Nayamata Churcb is now a UNESCO site and burial place for thousands of victims. Particularly heartbreaking are the coffins for infants and children.

Luckily the attempt to slaughter everyone inside the church was not successful. The stories of those who survived are displayed outside the church to bear witness to what had happened. Here’s a short sample:

As terrible as the massacre was, Rwanda’s story is one of hope for the future.

We visited one of the “reconciliation villages” where perpetrators and survivors now live side by side in harmony. Naturally, it took a considerable amount of time for everyone to heal and to learn to trust one another. The perpetrators had to confess to what they had done, serve their time in prison and ask the survivors for forgiveness.

At the village, both a survivor and a perpetrator told their stories. We learned that those who committed the atrocities had been fed a steady stream of propaganda and misinformation. Agitators whipped up hatred for people who had previously been friends and neighbors.

Janet, one of the survivors with her daughter. Janet was our hostess for lunch at the village.

We have so much to learn from Rwandans, who exhort us to practice ubumuntu.

Perhaps Africans have a huge capacity for forgiveness? I recall Nelson Mandela didn’t seek revenge against his white captors, but urged the nation toward reconciliation.

America is now going thru a very divisive time. Maybe we can learn to speak to each other, listen carefully and exhibit “greatness of heart”.

Lyon

Mike and I visited Lyon and Paris in 1976. Although I vividly remember Paris: visiting the Louvre, Napoleon’s Tomb, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, I have absolutely NO memory of Lyon. There was never anything that kindled even a little spark of recognition.

Our hotel is a short block from the Rhône River, and within walking distance to the old city. People in Lyon use EVERY mode of transportation—bikes, unicycles, scooters, so you aren’t just dodging cars, buses and motorcycles when you cross the street.

It is difficult to get lost in Lyon, even for me. From the river banks, it is easy to find three important landmarks. The black domes are atop the Hotel Dieu. Now a luxury hotel, from the late 1400’s until 2010, that large building was a hospital. The white building to the right (in the distance) is the cathedral and barely visible, on the far right, behind the dome is a fake Eiffel Tower.

Now why would there be a second Eiffel Tower? Well, back in the day, tourists would visit the outskirts of Lyon, but never bothered to visit the city proper. So, knowing how poorly educated people are about geography, the town fathers rightfully guessed that people were aware that there was an Eiffel Tower in France, but had no idea in which city it was located. Voila! The tourists did indeed come into the city center to view the “imposter” tower. And a tourist trap was born. Clearly that was well before the advent of Ms Google.

The “tourist trap” needed a better photo, so here it is.

We took the funicular up to the cathedral. I know, yet ANOTHER church. But this one had some rather interesting features.

Check out the number of columns in this cathedral—and how ornately decorated they are, with different statues standing on the top. At the base of each pillar are birds, all slightly different. Some of them are looking straight at you, others have their beaks lifted at varying angles. Admit it—have you EVER seen birds on a church column? On the INSIDE of a church, that is. I sure hadn’t. Perhaps they symbolize the Holy Ghost?

Before we descended, we had to check out the incredible view. More later about the three white towers in the distance .

During our time in Lyon, we had two scheduled activities. The first, a food tour, brought us through the old city, and consisted of tasting stops at a chocolate shop, a bouchon and a pastry store. The food wasn’t wonderful ( fish soufflé at the bouchon, overly sweet pie at the pastry stop) but the guide was.

Our local guide explained that the hospital (now Hotel Dieu) was located at what was once the border to France. At that time, our hotel would have been in Germany! Why was a hospital located there? So that the medical team could examine all travelers before they were allowed to enter France.

The second tour which focused on the Resistance, took us to a different part of Lyon. This tour consisted of walking up and down narrow cobblestone streets to view plaques affixed to various buildings.

We also went thru passages the resistance workers took to evade the Gestapo. Now the buildings are covered with graffiti and the passageways are entrances to apartments and function as storage areas for trash cans. The walk was uninspiring, however once again, the guide was great. Although I was listening intently to her description of the mind sets of the French during World War II, I found myself more interested in the abundant street art than the plaques.

Take a look.

I initially thought someone stuffed a funky gorilla into a hole in this building, so of course I had to examine more closely. This very talented artist somehow achieved a three dimensional effect on a flat building wall. Wow.

When the guide asked if there were any questions, did I ask about Marshall Petain or the Vichy French? Hell no, I wanted to know what kind of business had paintings of “come thither” women in the windows.

The answer: a strip club. And now more street art.

Ms Google translated the artist’s intent, which was written in French below the artwork. Here’s the “ readers digest” version. The hearts, facing each other, have different motifs. Despite differences, the two hearts can find understanding and coexist.

Believe it or not, the above is a message to Macron. The words “straight into the wall” doesn’t mean anything to me, but apparently the French get it.

Lyon is a very walkable city so I did some solitary exploring. Remember those white towers visible from the Cathedral ? Lyon had hoped to be selected to host the Summer Olympics, so a swimming complex was built. I’m not sure what the function of the towers was because they seemed too high ( to me ) to be diving platforms. But then, I’ve never seen Olympic diving platforms other than on TV, so maybe they were.

Unfortunately, Lyon wasn’t chosen, but at least the residents ended up with a great place to cool off during the hot summer months.

In front of the towers is a skate park, where I watched a young man perform amazing feats on his bicycle.

The river banks were a favorite gathering spot for people AND swans.

Next stop, Paris, via the high speed train.

Carcassonne

Sometimes you need to let the bliss sink in, and boy oh boy, am I ever blissful right now!

Yes, we’ve done a lot during our stay in Carcassonne, and I will eventually talk about that, but right now I am thoroughly enjoying the perfect weather and the after effects of a wonderful lunch in a nearby French vineyard/winery, Chateau Auzias.

After the vineyard tour, we were given 4 bottles of wine to taste, plus measuring equipment so that we could concoct our own blend using whatever combo of the 4 we desired. When departure time rolled around, we were presented with our blended wine to take home. I liked their Cabernet franc so much, I decided not to muck it up with Merlot or either of the two Syrah varietals, so I was glad that taking one of the vineyard’s regular products was an option.

As you can see from all the smiling faces, a good time was had by all. Especially me.

Okay, so that was the sum total of YESTERDAY’S blogging.

TODAY we are leaving the countryside, traveling by train to spend three days in Lyon, then finishing the trip in Paris. But before we move on to the big cities, let me tell you about our last medieval town.

Carcassonne’s most prominent feature is its huge castle, which dominates the landscape.

I was lucky enough to score a hotel room with a balcony, so I was treated to this spectacular view (of a portion) of the castle, which is beautifully illuminated at night. The plant you see in the following photo is the wonderfully scented jasper hanging from my balcony. ( my cell phone’s zoom can only do so much…)

The castle is so enormous, it was difficult to fit it all into one photo, until I visited Tribe restaurant during one of our “free” evenings. The food was every bit as great as its view. A bonus: the restaurant is owned by an Australian, so they have both French and English menus, AND it is really close to Les Chevaliers, our hotel.

Every castle should have a good story and this castle is no exception. Let me introduce you to Lady Carcas, whose statue at the main entrance greets visitors.

This Saracen princess is credited with saving the city from Charlemagne, who tried to starve the inhabitants into submission by surrounding it for five years. Although they were almost out of food, Princess Carcas decided to feed the remaining wheat to their last pig, then catapult the fattened animal over the city walls into the enemy camp. According to the legend, when Charlemagne saw the splattered remains of the well fed pig in the middle of his camp, he figured the Muslims still had plenty of food. What’s a warrior to do but pack up and head for home, which is exactly what he did. Lady Carcas was so excited by their departure, she ordered all the church bells to be rung. Upon hearing the bells, a soldier exclaimed “Carcas rings”, but he said it in French “Carcas sonne”, and that’s how the city got its name. Or so the legend claims.

Check out the fortress’s outer ramparts. This photo was taken from the inner, and higher, protective wall.

If the invaders are able to breach the first wall, they still have to make it over the moat and past the aptly named “kill hole” .

You can see why a siege was preferable to a full blown attack on what sure looks like an impenetrable fortress.

At the start of the tour, you are given an audio guide, then watch an introductory multi media show projected onto a wall.

The rooms inside the living quarters were transformed over the centuries by its various inhabitants: Romans, Saracens, and Christians.

We ended our visit with a walk around the ramparts, which was an excellent vantage point for viewing both the countryside and the interior of the fortress.

Our guide told us the fortress currently has 55 inhabitants. Although during our ramparts walk, we viewed several lovely residences, with gorgeous gardens, I certainly wouldn’t want to live in a place overrun by tourists. (Do they even have WiFi?)

Laetitia cautioned us that there was some up and down on uneven steps on the ramparts walk, but Nancy and I didn’t find it at all challenging.

In retrospect, I wish I had spent most of the day within the castle walls, but we had so much fun on our boat ride in Angers, we decided to give the afternoon Carcassonne canal ride a try. Big mistake. It was crowded, hot, and boring. The lack of photos from the boat ride tells you everything you need to know.

But that happens with travel. Sometimes you hit and sometimes you miss.

On to the cities…

Albi, On the Way to Carcassonne

There is no end to the surprises on this trip. Our itinerary indicated that we would stop for lunch along the way to Carcassonne, in Albi, another town I’d never known existed prior to this trip.

It was no surprise to find a cathedral in a small town, but what WAS jaw dropping was the artwork on the walls. Let me tell you, I’ve certainly seen more than my fair share of churches, chapels and cathedrals, but I have never, EVER seen artwork quite like this!

Every square inch of this massive building was covered with art. What caught MY eye were the geometric optical illusions. I tried to find out when they were painted, but the internet let me down.

If you’d like a better view of any of the photos, just click on it, but I’m telling you right now, you really DID have to be there. It was impossible to capture the grandeur of St Cecelia’s cathedral.

Cecelia, by the way, is depicted by the statue in the bottom photo. She was one of the virgin martyrs, forced to marry a pagan. Unlike the other virgin martyrs, she converted her husband by convincing him that an angel was standing over him, and would punish him if he tried to consummate the marriage. It isn’t clear who killed her, but it wasn’t her husband.

More surprises: the town created a Toulouse Lautrec museum out of what was once a fortress/ bishop’s residence/ inquisition site. That’s what happens when something in Europe is built in the 1200’s. It gets repurposed multiple times.

As with other fortresses, the site was originally chosen for its altitude and its proximity to water.

(My friend Jean requested more people photos, especially ones with me in them, so the above shot’s for her.)

Check out the sky if you want an explanation for my wardrobe: I was ready for ANYTHING: rain, sun, wind, pestilence…

Now take a look at what was under the wall I’m sitting on. Pretty magnificent, wouldn’t you say?

The museum doesn’t look that impressive from the outside. In fact, it looks a little strange, but I guess that’s to be expected for an 800+ year old building that has served so many different purposes.

But inside is quite a WOW.

I was particularly taken with this passageway built to link two buildings together. The ceiling creates another optical illusion when you stand at one end and look up. I got a little dizzy trying to make this shot come out straight!

Each section was covered with images of plants and animals.

This artwork was a bit faded, probably because the passage was lined with windows on both sides, but you get the idea.

I couldn’t help but wonder whether the victims of the inquisition marched through this hallway on their way to the torture chambers, or whether this hallway was part of the bishop’s commute between his residence and the courts, where he decided which punishment to mete out to the infidels, in God name, of course.

I’ve rambled on and on about the building, but haven’t talked much about the art inside. There’s a reason. I’ve seen better Toulouse Lautrec artwork in New York, Boston, and in art books, so the art display was a bit disappointing. I did find one that I particularly liked.

The museum contained OTHER artists’ work, including this one that I found rather captivating.

We only had less than an hour after lunch to check out the museum ( and revisit the cathedral, if so inclined), so I didn’t buy the audio guide, which means I have absolutely no idea where this painting was meant to represent. But I liked it, and that’s enough for me.

Looks like Carcassonne is going to get its OWN post, yet another surprise, at least to me. I never imagined I’d have so much to say about a lunch stop!

Here’s a sneak preview— the view from my Carcassonne hotel room’s balcony.

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