Category: Air Hops

On Dit Oui à la France, Baby!

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The first stop on our France tour was Bourges. We flew from Thessaloniki to Lyon and drove five hours and some change, in the typical fall rain, to this picturesque cum medieval and totally French city in the Loire Valley. Our place was up three flights of rather arduous steps. OK, to be fair, three flights is not a lot, but … my luggage. I was so proud of myself for packing a relatively small bag, but despite my best efforts it was still somehow bewilderingly 20 kg. Anyhoo, the apartment could not have been cuter: top floor mansard, with tons of skylights and views of the beautiful, gothic Bourges Cathedral.

Dinner the first night was a gourmand’s feast: a bottle of delightful red Sancerre, bread (mais bien sûr!) and butter (my order of which always elicits first a pretense of misunderstanding my non-native French, then a combination of surprise, offense, eye rolls, and/or barely concealed disdain, none of which I give a flying *&#@ about ‘cuz French butter is divine), pork terrine as the entrée, followed by an exquisitely tender lamb shank served in a mini cauldron with silky mashed potatoes and veggies, finished off with mousse au chocolat accompanied by a lovely glass of armagnac. Didn’t bode well for my current or post vacation waistline, and set the stage for the culinary debauchery that predictably followed: baguettes, more of that indescribably delicious beurre with thick jambon, fondue, velouté (our cold weather go-to), rich chocolat chaud, les vins rouge et blanc… All. Just. Yum.

Everything in Bourges — cathedrals, restaurants, même les rues — had a bit of the fairy tale and drama about it. The weather was no exception, and was alternately chilly, sunny, rainy, and on our full last day crazy windy (40+ mph). But it made our (clearly absolutely necessary) walks interesting and the (obviously) subsequent restaurant forays super cozy. We left there a little bit fatter, but with big smiles on our fuller faces. Sans doute, it was the perfect start to our French adventure. Next up: Tours.

Thessaloniki Is a Total Vibe

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We had an enjoyable stay in the Bay Area before heading to our home away from home. This time we flew straight to Thessaloniki, a city that never gets old. Part of the reason is literal, since it hosts Greece’s largest university (Aristotle) and is therefore full of students. But beyond that, it is 100% alive, and both endearingly and unapologetically raw. Intoxicating scents of spice and confection are juxtaposed against a seemingly infinite backdrop of picturesque outdoor tables, lively conversation, and clinking glasses. The waterfront is incongruous and at the same time somehow perfectly placed, lending a sigh of relief to the near palpable pulse of the city. The sky is bright blue despite the almost defiant prevalence of non-electric cars and generous quantities of cigar and cigarette smoke. Graffiti is pervasive, but taggers mar neither beautiful buildings nor their brethren’s art painted on metal storefront gates. Saturday nights are without fail full-on, with a surreal quiet that follows on Sunday mornings, often as not punctuated by post-party, loudly heated exchanges.

It was the first time we’d been in Greece this late in the year, and it was odd to don gloves, scarves, and even the occasional coat. We saw music and dance performances at the Thessaloniki Concert Hall (lovely venue with multiple auditoriums), rode bicycles beside and beyond the water, hosted my dear friend and freshman college roommate, took Greek lessons (because of course we had to fall in love with a country that has not only an incredibly challenging language but also a different flipping alphabet), cooked and ate some incredible meals, joined an amazing gym with top-notch equipment and classes (including my beloved Pilates reformer), checked out the graffiti and photography museums, did one (just one!) puzzle, and … la pièce de résistance … played some pickleball! Pickleball is in da house! It’s an indoor facility and by no means perfect, but it’s well and enthusiastically attended, and happening every Monday night from 7 – 10ish p.m. With that, it could not get any better. Officially.

One more thing to love about Thessaloniki is its airport, making travel super convenient and — especially to other European cities — relatively inexpensive. Hence, after six weeks there, we boarded a plane to la belle France.

Singapore Is a Sweet and Sterile Mash-Up

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I never had Singapore in my travel sights, but as it was only a few hours from Indonesia we asked, “Why not?” And while I had no idea what to expect — other than good food — it was nevertheless unexpected.

First off, it was hot. Very hot. And humid. It shouldn’t have been a surprise given it’s in Southeast Asia, but for some reason it was. I also thought it would be colorful, but with few exceptions it was pretty monochromatic. Everything was pristine with predominantly silver facades, zero trash in the streets, super green streets, eery quiet for a bustling city (most cars are electric now, and by 2040 all will be clean energy), manicured to a tee, with a strong mall game. Even the night market, although fun and lively, managed to somehow feel buttoned up.

The city felt like a futuristic Pleasantville.

We visited the National Gallery of Singapore (beautifully curated), the National Museum (where the standard collections were sadly closed) and the Botanic Gardens (immaculate), checked out a cool yet low key corny jazz club, and took an evening riverboat cruise complete with a perfectly timed laser light show. We also saw the latest new movies: Above and Below (intense), Insidious (crazy), The End of Oak Street (entertaining), The Invite (excellent), and Spider-Man (engrossing, especially for a 2.5-hour sequel). Every day was punctuated with consistently delicious food, from Korean BBQ to dumplings and a fabulous final night of yakitori with the best sake we’ve had to date.

We packed it in for our five-day stay. No need to return, but glad we went. Next up: a trip to the Bay Area to see friends and family before heading to Greece for the fall, our favorite time of year there.

Lombok Is Bali’s Cinderella

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We were excited to head to the mainland of Kuta, which promised a little more action and a lot more beaches than Gili Air. An intense 30-minute speedboat trip was followed by an equally harrowing and somewhat alarming drive to our hotel. We bypassed lush terrain and breathtaking beaches, only to see the streets get busier and decidedly less beautiful as we made way.

As our ride foreshadowed, we were initially disappointed in Kuta. We knew it was going to be less hectic than Bali, but still … The beauty and serenity of Gili Air felt like a distant memory as we were lambasted by the contrasting traffic, noise, and garbage of the island. After our initial shock, though, we settled in nicely. The town was within walking distance of our “villa” (their description, not ours) and was loaded with shops and excellent restaurants. Spending so much time in Mexico and Greece, we’ve really missed good Asian food, and it did not disappoint: delicious, inexpensive, and delivered with the same outstanding service as on Gili Air. Must be an Indonesian thing. 

Highlights beyond the culinary: a tour of rice fields (beautiful), a weaving village (more interesting than anticipated), and a 4.5-mile, steep, muddy, and unexpectedly challenging hike to four dramatic waterfalls that almost made the crazy trek worth it. Lazy days at the beach (most notably Sanjun Ahn, with beautiful water and the softest sand I’ve ever felt). A snorkeling trip to the Secret Gilis (Gede, Layar, and Rengit) where we were surprised by clear, cool water and bright blue coral and starfish. And a fabulous new private villa (a real one this time) where we stayed for our final night after a scheduling snafu forced us out of our digs a day early. Excellent recovery.

I also finally finished Anna Karenina. It used to be one of my faves, but maybe I have less patience now? Whatever the case, I was over the characters halfway through the book and frankly just wanted Anna to get on with it. Did two more satisfying puzzles. Made some good meals. Ate too many delicious baguettes from the local French bakery. Went for a couple more dives (meh), as well as some excellent boxing, conditioning, yoga, and pilates workouts at the beyond stunning Xenofit gym, which was included in our hotel stay and helped compensate for the aforementioned baguettes plus dumplings and more.

After three weeks on Kuta, we were happy to have avoided death or dismemberment by two- or four-wheelers. (One would be wise to meander mindfully there; keep your wits, keep your limbs.) Satisfied that we had done it justice, we were ready to move on. Next up: a short stint in Singapore. 

Gilis Are In the Air

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We spent a fun, busy, and super short time in the Bay Area before heading to our next virgin scuba diving destination: Indonesia. We had never gone, always wanted to, and weren’t disappointed.

The most famous gilis (meaning “small island” in the local Sasak language) are a trio just off the northwest coast of Lombok: Gili Meno, Gili Trawangan, and Gili Air. Gili Meno is reportedly for honeymooners, and Gili T is for partiers. We opted for Gili Air, which falls somewhere in between, and turned out to be lovely and borderline magical.

We flew into Bali and swapped the mayhem for a two-hour ferry ride to the infinitely more peaceful Gili Air, where we were met by horse-drawn carts which then transported us to our hotel. Definitely a first. The second observation was how strikingly quiet it was. There are no cars or motorcycles on the island; modes of transportation are the aforementioned horses, electric scooters, bicycles, and feet. Third was how the whole place resembled a movie set: narrow streets lined with trees and restaurants and shops, interspersed with darting chickens, all doing their respective things. The rhythm of horses’ hoofbeats, the chirping of tiny birds, the faint echoes of wood being hammered, and the melodic recitation of daily prayers were the most consistent sounds. ASMR down.

The food was inexpensive and outstanding. And chicken is a staple, so I was in poultry paradise. Our resort, Blue Marlin Dive, was also top notch, as were the instructors. While the diving, especially visibility, was not as awe-inspiring as we’d expected, it was certainly good (despite intermittent encounters with strong current, made more alarming by their seeming randomness). Coral health was hit and miss, but sea life was pretty abundant: sharks, tons of turtles, and all kinds of fish I’d never seen before. Clown triggerfish and sweetlips are a couple of my new faves, the latter with clear bonus points for its name alone. All in all, solid diving but not worthy of a top site ranking.

The weather was perfect — 80s with breezes — and the overall vibe was quiet contentment. Everyone was positive and super smily, and service was beyond reproach. It reminded me of Canada, where we were constantly taken aback because everyone appeared so genuinely friendly. But we adjusted our cold, suspicious hearts once again, and spent two delightful weeks diving, biking, strolling, eating, drinking, playing backgammon and mini golf, reading, and puzzling. A beautiful introduction to Indonesia. Next up: Lombok proper, otherwise known as the mainland. 

Mexico City Es la Bomba

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And I mean that pretty much literally.

Especially after the relative calm of San Carlos, Mexico City is explosive. Everything is a study of extremes: noise, traffic, crowds, poverty, opulence, culture, smells … There are also crazy juxtapositions everywhere: the magnificence of the post office against the shabbiness of its and its neighbors’ facades, the dirt of downtown amidst a plethora of fancy perfumeries (no less than three on each side of each street), a stunning upscale rooftop restaurant across the street from a drug addict vomiting fluorescent orange onto the sidewalk, colorful settlements glimpsed from the highway that at first glance look like charming little neighborhoods and upon closer inspection reveal themselves to be slums. 

We were only in Mexico City for a week, so we crammed: the requisite stunning museums (Museo Nacionale de Arte, National Museum of Anthropology, Museo de Arte Moderno, Museo Soumaya), a visit to the Museo del Palacio des Belles Artes (beautiful venue and an operatic program with a duet — bless their hearts —whose talent was a distant match to their enthusiasm, a trip to the Teotihuacan Pyramids (awe-inspiring), indulgence at El Moro Churreria (excellent artisanal churros accompanied by a slew of international hot chocolates), lots of walking and people watching and bookstores and eating and drinking and open-mouthed gaping at the sheer industry of the city and its inhabitants. To say there was a dearth of slackers would be a profound understatement. We wondered initially why we were so exhausted after every foray, but it quickly became clear: every outing was a sensory overloaded onslaught. We were also staying in the historical downtown area, so within walking distance to mucho and also right in the thick of both the exciting and less savory of it all. And there’s always at least one bizarre (to me) aspect to every city. Speaking of unsavory, in Mexico City is was the plethora of perfumeries. Seriously, like several on each side of every block.

Would I go back to Mexico City? Probably, after seeing other large Mexican cities first. (Guadalajara, for one, is highly recommended.) For round two I’d at minimum stay in a different area, check out the Frida Kahlo Museum, and attend a Las luchas event. I’m not mad at the way we popped our Mexico City cherry — something we’d always wanted to do — and I’m stoked that we took the time to experience it. 

Bilbao En Train

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There are lots of things to love about Europe. One biggie is the transit system. So we decided to capitalize on it with a quick trip from Bordeaux to Bilbao, Spain. Google said we could do it, after all … And after a curt “c’est pas possible” from the initial train assistant, a little persistence from yours truly revealed that indeed it was. 

Bilbao was a cool adventure we were rather proud of ourselves for undertaking. We rode the SNCF for three hours to the edge of France and then switched to a Spanish line, Euskotren, for two more legs and a total of another couple of hours. There’s something simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary about a train ride: viewing random towns and countrysides as you speed past; checking out your fellow passengers, their companions, conversations, attire; avoiding unnecessary eye contact with unwaveringly officious conductors; imagining the stories of all the above … all the while being lulled by the myriad sounds and cradling of the ride itself. Everything is infused with a touch of magic, mystery, and romance — the perfect backdrop for boundless drama.

That said, with the exception of the inevitable fare dodger and one small delay, our trip was drama free, everything ran smoothly, and we arrived in beautiful Bilbao that evening. We stayed at a lovely hotel — they had me at the free glass of cold cava upon arrival — a short walk from the Guggenheim, and the weather was a pleasant ten degrees warmer than Bordeaux. The first night we spent eating overpriced and underwhelming tapas, and unintentionally wandering in the (belatedly apparent) seedier part of the ‘hood. The next day we got it together, though, starting with an outstanding day at the Guggenheim. The internal architecture in and of itself was stunning, and one exhibition in particular — by the previously unknown to us artist Maria Da Silva — was everything you want art to be: unique, provocative, and exceptional. The other floors showcased contemporary art, which was (as always) hit and miss. We had an appetizing lunch at the museum restaurant, and finished the day with a relaxing stroll by the water.

The following day we visited the Fine Arts Museum (unfortunately the permanent exhibit was closed due to construction), a couple beautiful cathedrals, a more-like-it tapas lunch at La Ribera Market, and an evening kicked off with a traditional Basque dance and music performance and an unexpectedly expensive-but-pretty-darn-delicious dinner. (Recommended by our Guggenheim waiter, by the way, who said that was where he and his colleagues ate. And to whom I now ask in absentia, “How much are they paying waiters these days?”) Anyhoo, it was good, we were satisfied, and that’s all she wrote.

We left the following morning at 8:30, since our final train to Bordeaux was at 4:00 and T likes to be at airports, train stations, bus depots (you get the picture) a minimum of three and ideally five hours prior to departure. Clearly some past travel trauma necessitates this behavior, and perhaps I even had a hand in said trauma, but really … We made it back to Bordeaux in good form and enjoyed our last few days in the city before heading back to Athens, then Marina del Rey, and after an incredible three months in Europe, finally back to the Bay Area for a petite visite prior to resuming boat life in Mexico. 

Pau en Voiture

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We decided to temporarily leave the amazingness of Bordeaux and take a side trip to Pau. After an auspicious start — during which Enterprise Rent-A-Car gave away our reserved voiture, then after paying three times the original amount elsewhere we couldn’t figure out how to put the dang thang in reverse … while facing downhill with a large parked car in front of us, all the while wondering why we’d decided to leave Bordeaux in the first place — we took our Renault on a lovely little road trip. Rain was forecast but the sun was rebelliously out in spades, and we navigated the endless ronds points rather expertly, if I do (admittedly as the passenger) say so myself. Nothing but admiration for the verdant countryside, with T salivating over all the castles on the way, most notably the Château de Cazeneuve. We finally arrived in Pau after four leisurely and utterly pleasant hours.

Bordeaux is to Pau what Athens is to Symi: a study in country contrasts. Where Bordeaux is urban cosmopolitan, Pau is — especially en route — rural medieval. Bustling and high brow vs. mild and down to earth. Shiny vs. matte. Pau is a tiny condensed city, with a pretty rough entry once we left the countryside. It didn’t help that it took forever to find the actual apartment, and then longer to find the parking, only to arrive with towels on the floor and paper in the bin. All was blessedly sorted while we went to dinner, though, at a restaurant literally right next door to our place, as we contentedly consumed delicious grilled prawns and a bottle of chilled Sancerre. Things were most certainly looking up.

We spent our first full day exploring the city, which is super cute in the light of day. Beautiful mountains, architecture, and castles galore. Visited the Musee des Beaux-Arts (unexpectedly fantastic), had an excellent Asian fusion prix fixe lunch, and topped it all off with what T described as the best macarons he’d ever tasted in life. High praise from Monsieur. Day two we drove to Lescar and Sauveterre-de-Bearn, two darling little towns a couple hours outside of Pau. Castles, churches, and beautiful countryside, with the perfect combination of majesty and magic, and that fresh, crisp air you can both feel and taste. Everything and everyone welcoming and unassuming.

We left on Halloween — at this point sad we’d miss the festivities that were being prepared directly under our living room window — and arrived back in Bordeaux without incident. The next week and a half would be spent in a different section of the city next to the Gare St. Jean, a little grittier than our previous digs but steps from the train station. Maybe we’ll take advantage of our new location and see the Guggenheim in Bilbao?

Bordeaux, On y va!

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We hadn’t been to France in over a decade, and we (especially T) were seriously jonesing. So we made the relatively spontaneous decision to add a Bordeaux jaunt to our Greek getaway.

Très bonne idée.

While it was overcast for much of our time there, the weather just added to the ambience. There’s something romantic and quintessentially European about walking through a rainy cobblestoned city, surrounded by melodic accents, ducking into random (i.e. not Yelp or Google or Tripadvisor-veriified) cafés and restaurants, eating fabulous food and drinking delicious wine. (It was Bordeaux after all, and le vin did not disappoint.) We had perfect little apartments — on Rue Judaïque, just outside the center, for the first part of our stay, and near Gare St. Jean for the second — and we happily and busily explored the city for a lovely and sublimely unforgettable three weeks.

Extensive urban planning is obvious in Bordeaux. Transportation, services, and public spaces have been designed with a clearly pedestrian-forward mindset. It is not a car-friendly city, with scarce parking and meandering routes. Uber is also expensive, slow to arrive, and tedious; it routinely took 15+ minutes to travel less than three miles. Surprisingly homogenous stone building facades aside, Bordeaux is a city you’re meant to soak up and enjoy by foot, bike, or metro.

We visited the famous Cité du Vin and the Musée des Beaux-Arts. Bought some excellent bottles from the Badie wine store. Snagged a designer coat from a vintage clothes shop for less than 100€. Saw One Battle After Another (great after Teyana Taylor exited stage left), Predator Badlands (unexpectedly fantastic, undoubtedly helped by the full-on intense immersive theater experience), and The Conjuring (also highly entertaining). The latter two were shown in French and I actually understood most of the dialogue and subtitles, merci beaucoup. Checked out quite a few (cheaper than the states but still overpriced) places for sale. Found some amazing bookstores. Took advantage of the region and had copious amounts of delicious wine to complement equally delicious, refreshingly and reasonably priced prix fixe menus. And, in part to justify the consistent overindulgence, we walked and walked and walked, only missing bicycles with baskets holding fresh baguettes and flowers to complete the picture.

All told, I would 100% visit Bordeaux again. It reminded me how much I miss the whole experience of France, ensconced in fairy tale-like landscapes and history, dining and imbibing in quaint restaurants, hearing and speaking that melodious language, and enjoying the sheer civility of it all. Mwah/Bisous!

The City of Gods Is Aptly Named

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Athens — a complete, welcome, and much-needed contrast to our relative lassitude on Symi — never disappoints. After we visited years ago, we gravitated primarily towards Keramikos, a trendy, SoHo-like enclave. More recently we tried the downtown area. This trip, for the first time, we stayed in Kolonaki. It’s like Pacific Heights in San Francisco: great location, relatively posh, inhabitants living ostentatiously large. While not our ideal permanent vibe, it’s super cool to visit.

Storefronts embody aesthetic perfection, carefully and particularly designed and outfitted, starting with the windows and extending seamlessly to the interiors. Restaurants follow suit and are both pricy and divine; every meal beyond on every level. The entire neighborhood is 100% intentional. You might be broke when you leave, but you’ll go out wistfully satisfied. 

The landscape is also dramatic and breathtaking. We took a hike for the first time up Lycabettus Hill, and our (somewhat strained) efforts were rewarded with a breathtaking 360-degree view of the city. I’ll give us a pass on not tackling it before, as undertaking it in the summer heat would most certainly have been life-shortening. In October, however, it was not only totally doable but actually pleasant. 

It’s the kind of place that makes you want to indulge. Not indefinitely sustainable, but delightfully delicious for a splurge. And as we weren’t looking for a long term commitment, we thoroughly enjoyed our quick and decadent stay en route to our next rather spontaneously planned destination: Bordeaux. Flaky, crusty baguette with delicious butter and exquisite wine … On arrive!