TravelStream™ news feed for member sutiramisu on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/sutiramisu en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 08 Jul 2008 02:28:34 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1213334520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1213334520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1213334520/tpod.html Tue, 08 Jul 2008 02:28:34 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

Back home for birthday celebrations!
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Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada

Su, Rosie, Doris and Maria take a weekend away to explore all the Okanagan beaches and lavender there is to find and visit with a beloved ex-Vancouverie girlfriend, Terri. Bonus features include fresh off the tree cherries and apricots, and surprise sightings of moose, deer, quail, and sweet little ponies in Su's old hometown Keremeos. On top of all that we met a crazy mountain man 'Ulrich' who is a genius and a character with many interesting stories to tell over dinner. All we can say is "Thank you!!!" and "More please!"
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1210222920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1210222920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1210222920/tpod.html Tue, 08 Jul 2008 01:05:59 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Fukuoka, Kyushu-Okinawa, Japan

Ten years later, we return to the place where our life as we know it began. Fukuoka. The city where we became engaged, and where our first baby was born. It was like time travel back to our salad days.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1206874200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1206874200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1206874200/tpod.html Fri, 11 Apr 2008 13:57:06 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Paris, France

"Cara Lutetia"....The words of Julian Caesar (362AD) referring to Dear Paris as it was in his day. Describing this locale in endearing terms the Roman Emporer was taken at his word. Paris has been highly sought out ever since. Lauded over the ages by young and old alike we wonder what superlatives we can add to describe this mecca of lovers, artists, and tourists alike? The epicenter of luxury goods, haute couture, and exquisite cuisine it always has and always will always attract the rich and famous. And they will in turn attract the rest of us who may try in vain to see it all. Alas, it is impossible! It is easily the most beautiful city in the world and perhaps the most tourist savvy. The 1950s campaign to promote it as the city of love with classy photos of lovers kissing was a roaring success and the Robert Doisneau images disseminated all those years ago are still in the minds of the general public today. There are dozens of kissy faces everywhere you turn. Amusing to some, and simply disgusting to anyone under 14.

We prepared ourselves by reading the requisite travel books but also by reading Victor Hugo. If anyone ever owned Paris, it was most certainly this man. He was indeed a captivating writer, influencing the likes of Charles Dickens and Fyodor Dostoevsky among others. But on top of his eloquent fiction he was an active statesman and philanthropist making him perhaps the most beloved Frenchman in modern history. He is so revered it is unlikely one can find a town anywhere in the country without a street dedicated to him. When he died there was a cortege of 500,000 people and literally millions of mourners lining the streets. When we learned that it was his novel "Le Notre Dame de Paris" (Hunchback of Notre Dame) that saved the magnificent cathedral from demolition, we were compelled to read it. Naturally we were drawn to the site and not just once. It is officially the heart of the city. France's "Point Zero" is right out front marking the reference point for distances along roads commencing in Paris. During various visits we were able to climb the tower to see where Quasi-Modo lived and visit all those fabulous gargoyles; see a Gregorian chant concert; and view the pride of the church: a purported remnant of the Holy Crown of Thorns. In the court out front there is always the free entertainment in the form of fire-throwers, jugglers, buskers, and a never ending stream of maudlin gypsies who will begin their petition with "Do you speak English?" If you say yes they will enter your personal space in a rush to convince you that your money is their money. Lesson learned - speak French to strangers.

We had many people ask us what do you do with kids in Paris? Aside from our dates with La Dame we spent a good portion of time sussing out the city's many parks. They are plentiful and expansive so that you feel you may escape the hustle and bustle whenever you wish. We enjoyed the 63 acre patch known as the Tuileries for its trampolines and view of the Louvre. Also, an excellent place for a morning jog. We loved the Jardin de Luxembourg (55 acres) for its outstanding playground, toyboat pond, pony rides, carousels, and puppet theatre. Of course, there is a beautiful palace thrown in for good measure and plenty of coiffed greenery to tickle the gardener'e eye. It is the place to be on a sunny Sunday afternoon and most certainly the favourite locale of at least four of our troupe.

The children were able to appreciate Paris in their own ways. Even Eze, now two and a half years old was happy to go along with any plan and seemed satisfied with the environs. On the occasions when he did misbehave we warned him "You are in big trouble, mon petit!" It was not long before he deftly replied "I am NOT in trouble - I am in Paris!" What could we say to that?

Of course, it is impossible to go to Paris without seeing the Eiffel tower. It is perhaps the most recognizable icon in the world, and an architectural wonder in its own right. It has been adored by mathematicians who have poured over scads of equations to describe its beauty. It is alluring and larger than life but it is not, to our eye, a place which reflects the spirit of Paris. In fact it may display the opposite. It is home to of the most tacky and overpriced souvenirs ever known to the French kind. (red, white and blue stuffed fun-fur towers anyone???) In any case, it is worth a visit and a schmoochy photo at the very least.

But who is to say what exactly is the spirit if Paris? Do you want sport? There is of course the Stade Francaise where our boys were able to see the national rugby team in action against Ireland, and England. How about history? There is the Latin Quartier where one may discover Roman Gallo-Roman Baths from the 3rd century, and fawn over the medieval architecture, tapestries, and relics, as well as the Sorbonne which fostered famous minds such as Descartes, Rousseau and Hugo. On top of all that there is a labyrinth of ancient alleys bustling with every race and creed poking in and out of antiquated bookshops, bistros and boutiques. Of course fine dining deserves a mention and the list of establishments is exhaustive. But thanks to a dear friend who escorted Isaac and Rosie to some cooking lessons with Chef Olivier in the Marais some of us now know in part just why the French meal is so superb. Is shopping your goal? Get thee to Les Galeries Lafayette - the most beautiful department store on the planet. Theatre?...Opera?... Jazz?...Nightlife? You name it - you can find it here.

Once again we asked ourselves in the middle of this huge city, "Is it a small world after all?" One fine Friday afternoon around 12:30 we went to see le Place Des Vosges, a beautiful sun dappled square upon which Victor Hugo would gaze between creative spells from his nearby apartments. We began to picnic in the northeast corner but soon realized the southeast had a playground and would suit us better. We moved, the kids played, and we enjoyed the space for an hour and a half. We decided to mosey up some little streets towards home with one particular shop in mind. Fragonard - a tiny little branch of the parfumerie we had visited in Provence. We stopped, we shopped, and went on our way. Little did we know...our Vancouver neighbors Mary and Georgia were at le Place Des Vosges just around 1:00pm, and in the northeast corner no less...after an hour or so they moseyed up to one particular shop they had in mind - yes you guessed it - Fragonard. They stopped, they shopped, unwittingly in our wake. While we all knew we would meet the next day, who knew we were on such ridiculously similar paths that sunny afternoon. What fun it was to discover the coincidence over brunch the next day.

When we were struck by urban overload we took daytrips to see what lay beyond. Paris Disneyland was a must do for 4 out of 6. On less commercial jaunts we enjoyed Chantilly, the world's largest horse stables; and the Sunday morning market in the northern suburb of St. Denis. If you want the deal of the century, there is the marche for you. Of all our side trips though, Versailles was the most impressive. The palace itself is predictably ostentatious and overstated but it is the gardens that are a joy to explore. We lapped up four hours of afternoon sun in Marie Antoinette's rustic retreat and reveled in the pastoral beauty. Planned and prepared to the tee by her staff of architects, landscapers and artists, this place more than any other is the epitome of idyllic. A hamlet which would inspire poetry. From there we carried on to the Grand Canal. It is this spot where Marie Antoinette sat with her friends on her 21st birthday to watch the sun rise and reflect on the water's surface. In memory of her we sat noshing on Ladurée Caramel Macarons (read food of the Gods) and watched the swans take flight. It was a stellar moment to be sure.


In sum, Paris and vicinity is in and of itself superlative. It was a month of magic to be there buzzing amongst the locals and drinking in juste un petit peu of what it has to offer. It has more facets than a diamond and will never stop changing. Ten million hearts call it home, and each one has a rich story to tell. We met a man in Montmartre. Gaston was old and weathered and he had no legs. He had no family. No riches. He busied himself with the craft of winding chenille rope around wire animals which he sold as souvenirs. And he warmed himself with a stole of mirth. He sang a cheerful song (Champs des Elysees) and stirred up all vestiges of happiness that passersby, including ourselves, had stored inside. He was not in trouble.... He was in Paris!

We leave this city richer for having seen it and mindful that "joie de vivre" is a choice. As we head out into a light rain towards Charles de Gaulle airport, we wave goodbye to the streets behind us. Au revoir Paris. You are indeed a city of marvels. Et au revoir Europe. It is time for us to set upon the place where our whole life began...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1184348820/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1184348820/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1184348820/tpod.html Fri, 28 Mar 2008 13:49:37 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

The Wilson World Tour begins!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1204305360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1204305360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1204305360/tpod.html Mon, 24 Mar 2008 15:37:51 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Budapest, Hungary

On one hand you've got your Buda. On the other, you've got your Pest. Our story picks up where these two cities meet. On the plane over from Madrid we wondered what our nomadic life would be like without wheels from now on. We wondered if there would be any other 'its a small world after all' experiences. While we contemplated these things we made the acquiantance of a man, Istvan, who was a resident of Budapest who had visited Vancouver once upon a time. He and his wife were pleasant company and impressively tolerant of our rapscallion brood. Once we landed, they bid us fare well and good luck. We wished them the same. We gathered our 20 pieces of luggage and went outside to hail a cab. And what drove up first but a Renault Traffic - the exact model we had been driving for the past six months! With big smiles we confidently packed it full of all our kit and set out to find our new digs. We tried a new strategy: a furnished apartment found on Craigslist. It turned out to be grand in architectural style but rather slap-dash in decor which made for easy childminding at the least. We settled in nicely. The next day around noon we sauntered over to the grocery across the street to pick up a few items and who do you think was right behind us in the check-out line up? None other than Mr. Istvan himself! He kindly offered us some tips for sightseeing and some local directions. Now given that there are some two million people in Budapest, if this is not a small world afterall, then what are the chances that for 20 years this man who had worked across the street from what would be our Craigslist apartment was to be seated beside us on a plane in Spain???? We laughed at the chances, exchanged email addresses, and once again bid each other good luck.

After sorting out all the various forms of public transportation we went exploring to see just how the Huns fight the winter freeze. It wasn't actually all that cold but there are fabulous furry hats to be had if you wish and once you set foot in this Carpathian city you can not ignore all the peppers that are essential to the quality of life here. They will warm you up from the inside out but let us return to that topic in a moment.

Fortified against the chill we set out to learn a little of the vicinity's history. We sought out Szoborpark which is on the outskirts of town. It is a great gravelly graveyard for all the gigantic monuments of the communist regime. Surprisingly, these statues were collected here to serve as reminders of the socialist politics of the past. There in the third photo you can see Isaac and Rosie dwarfed by the boots of Stalin. This statue was destroyed in the Revolution of 1956 and all that remains are the boots he wore for stomping millions of innocent people. Given its size, it must have been a wholly impressive monument in its day but now it only brings to mind Shelley's sonnet "Ozymandius"....

Ozymandius
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

There were some amusing souvenirs for sale and some somber faces perhaps wondering why tourists get such a kick out of seeing anything that has to do with such an oppressive era. But history is always interesting, except apparently when you are eight or ten years old being dragged around a statue park... Around town there are still many signs of the ongoing process of shedding the coat of communism. One political party still uses a red star in its logo even though this symbol of Communism is illegal. The power tripping subway staff is only too happy to stop you for no reason and call a conference on whether to fine you or not. Also it seemed to us that the majority of people are dressed modestly without regard for exuberant consumerism or fashion trends. Countless grannies are wearing the fur coat they have worn for more than half a century despite the mange that seems to have taken hold. Plenty of buildings are bland on the outside though many are still beautiful inside. And in the end, walking around gawking at just the architecture alone one gathers a distinct sense of the contrasts this city holds: Western - eastern; ancient - nouveau; drab - ornate; proud - humble; communist - religious. Eclectic...

We were keen to enjoy the cold snap with some ice skating. The City Park ice rink is a gorgeous locale and really quite exotic with a Transylvanian castle as a backdrop. It is the place to be at 5pm onwards as gaggles of giggly young girls in pretty sweaters are wooed by the packs of young men showing off their cool moves and sheer speed. Good clean fun in a spellbinding setting. The night may be topped off with a hearty mug of hot chocolate for the little ones and a shot or two of Transylvanian brandy otherwise known as Palinka. It will most certainly warm your blood, and will likely curl your eyebrows at the same time. Not for the faint of heart!

Another must do in this city is the thermal baths. Our visits to Szechenyi were where we encountered perhaps the most profound and mesmerizing contrasts of all. While it was 2 degrees centigrade outside, it was 34 degrees under water. As the sky turned a cobalt blue, the yellow building that surrounded us glowed. As the steam rose up towards the full moon so too did our spirits. The water felt divine! In fact there is not a Hungarian alive that won't tell you of the healing properties of these baths. And who can argue? They feel good, smell good and sit at the centre of community-based leisure. In the baths you will see families playing in the whirlpool as well as troops of old men playing chess. Middle aged women in circles chatting, and the occasional odd individual who brings the newspaper in to read or maybe an apple to nosh on. In addition to all these characters if you stay late enough you may very well see those same young ones you saw courting at the ice rink the other day with their sweaters and skates now decidedly missing.

So after a good splash the obvious question is what's for dinner? And the answer is Goulash of course! You can have it with meat or beans depending on your culinary persuasion and you can have the feast of a lifetime if you know where to go. The key to this meal is of course the paprika which is an essential part of any Hungarian kitchen. (The word paprika is Hungarian.) Now if you ever thought you knew what paprika was, just ask a Hun. There are no less than eight different kinds according to them and while some might make you smile with satisfaction, others will certainly make you cry. They adore their peppers; mild, sweet, pungent or hot. After all, it was Albert Szent-Gyorgyi, the Hungarian scientist who was awarded the Noble prize in 1937 for discovering vitamin C, in - but of course - paprika. We learned where to go for good authentic Goulash from a man we met named Elek. An unassuming young man who rides the tram system toting an open Becks in hand and eavesdropping on English conversations, he seemed also to carry a wealth of goodwill. When we asked him where our destination was exactly he did not just tell us. He got off at our stop and escorted us to the very spot and then showed us his personal favorite restaurant "Eklectika". How apropos! When we suggested to him that the number of English speaking people in Budapest was most impressive he replied "No, no, this is not so true. You are misinformized." When we suggested to him that he, like all Hungarians we had met (except the subway staff), seemed prone to unwarranted acts of kindness he said "So you say but every one has their bad habit." How humble, how charming he was! As it turns out his name means "Defender of Man" and wasn't he just that, ensuring our success as well as he could with the chivalry of a true gentleman.

Back to the history lesson, we took some time to roam around the underground labyrinth that has for millennia served various and sundry purposes. Carved out of rock by the thermal waters this sweaty subterranean maze has been refuge to people in the Middle Ages, home to people during war, secret passages to the nobles, and play areas to present day tourists like ourselves. From there we took time to visit the Dohany Street Synagogue which is the largest in Europe. Built by a Viennese architect in the 1850's it is a mix of Moorish, Byzantine, Romantic, and Gothic elements. There is the eclectic factor again. Sadly, it became an internment camp to thousands of city Jews in 1944 and was the sorry witness to much suffering and death. It was severely damaged in WWII and not restored until the Communist cloak was lifted in 1991. At that time a striking memorial was erected in the courtyard. On this weeping willow hang thousands of silver leaves each bearing the name of a Hungarian Jew who died in the holocaust. It is very touching indeed.

On a lighter note we were determined to taste the culture that this fine capital has to offer. For a fine family moment we took an afternoon to enjoy the ever famous Budapest Puppet Theatre. Despite the obvious linguistic barrier, all six of us were delighted with the music and the vivid depiction of a cowardly tiger that lost his stripes and had to earn them back. We would have liked to see more. The good news is this company tours the world so if you see their posters we would say don't hesitate to take them in. From there we felt compelled to have a peek into one of Europe's finest opera houses. And with great seats costing no more than $35 we had no excuse not to. Lucky us, we saw La Bohème in the luxury of a Hapsburg venue painted in real gold. Complete old world charm from the inside out. The show wasn't bad either. If we have one Budavari regret it is that we did not get to see the folk dancing. Please take a look at this 3:09 minute clip and see if these fiery boot-slapping fellows don't get your blood pumping. They are fantastic! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLF14Qbq90E

A cruise up the Danube on a grand bateau, a trip to the Marzipan museum, nearly daily doses of the local pastries that rival any of those found in France, and a few school lessons here and there filled in any spare moments we had in our agenda. We were thankful to once again have the pleasure of visiting with our friend Jean-Marie. A French man living in Budapest he is the one who is ultimately qualified to show us where to feast and tutor us on the highlights of Hungarian wine. Little did we know that the North Eastern part of Hungary has been producing wonderful wine since Celtic times, well before Christ. We happily imbibed and were truly pleased with the fruits of this land. As for dessert, we were surprised and thrilled to find Hungary's answer to tiramisu: Somlói galuska! Oy Yoy Yoy! While Su has been known to worship tiramisu above all other desserts, she has claimed this dish as the best runner up. Ask her to make it for you some time and she will with glee!

It is easy to say we were thoroughly enchanted by this town sometimes called the City of Spas, the Paris of the East, or the Pearl of the Danube. It is steeped in history and culture, rife with fine cuisine, and brimming with heartwarming people. Surprisingly inexpensive and somehow modest and grand all at the same time - we bid Farewell to you, Budapest - the city of contrasts, eclectics, and kindhearted defenders of men! What a delightful discovery it has been. However, we must now embark on the next leg of this journey. The jet plane is waiting to take us to the most beloved city of all time....




]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1202687280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1202687280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1202687280/tpod.html Sun, 10 Feb 2008 19:15:04 -0500 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Almería, Spain

When last we wrote we were passing through the Pyrenees, bidding farewell to the south of France. With sun on our faces and wind on our backs we coasted through a veritable ocean of orange groves past Barcelona, Valencia and past a number of tumbleweeds to arrive at our next destination, Almeria. It was a pleasure to see our brave and generous friends who had opened up their beautiful home to us. We were greeted with a feast of local specialties and a view of the Med from a much more southerly perspective than we were used to. Of course Bruce dove in straight after lunch!

And so began our holding pattern for the next few weeks. Wake, feast, play school and go to the beach. Throw in some people watching, some beach combing, and some good reading and there you have the recipe for the dilemma of what to do in Almeria for December. The swimming part of it was, however, only for the brave and crazy, unless of course you snorkel. It is interesting to note that back in the day when the Phoenicians contended with the Greeks for trade routes, they put a spin on the south of Spain. They said that the Pillars of Hercules (as the Strait of Gibraltar was then known) were sign posts to the ends of the earth. "There is nothing beyond but seaweed and sea monsters!" While we did not witness anything quite so treacherous as that we can confirm that nasty jellyfish are aplenty, particularly at this time of year. Whether or not the Phoenicians met with the jellies is not known, but we do know that thanks to the Spanish sponsorship of Christopher Columbus, the south of Spain became the portal to all that lies beyond. With great pride the Spanish have made their coat of arms to include the Pillars of Hercules as well as their motto "plus ultra" which roughly translates to "there is a whole new world out there and we conquered it thank you very much!" As well, it is said that the money used in the "New World" was referred to by the British as the 'Spanish dollar' and its symbol carried the two Pillars of Hercules and the Spanish motto which is written in an S shaped banner. Presto: The dollar sign! So, there you go.

Getting back to our story, we spent Christmas day as the Spanish do - laid back. They do not celebrate with gift giving until the Epiphany since that is when the Wise Men came to the Christ child bearing gifts. Still, there is the lump of coal to be given. We followed the custom much to the horror of our children until they discovered that the 'carbon dulce' is actually candy. After much tooth brushing, we took a drive through some bizarre landscape to Tabernas where there is a zoo, and the sets used by Hollywood for all those cowboy movies they used to make. Take your pick: The Magnificent Seven, A Fistful of dollars, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, or Billy El Niño to name but a few. We explored the dusty sun drenched town, watched a bank-robbery-shoot-out and enjoyed the zoo which to our delight held a company of genius parrots. They were trained to ride tricycles, solve puzzles and add numbers. As well we were thrilled to see a great clutter of Meerkats. Too bad we couldn't ship them back to the Rat Hole in Provence as they just LOVE to eat scorpions!

Once the New Year was rung in we set out on a road trip to see the sights of Andalusia. This area is the southernmost province of Spain, but prior to 1492 it was the name for all of the Iberian Peninsula. This was when the Moors ruled, and for some time Cordoba was the centre point of it all. With 500,000 citizens in the 10th century it was the biggest city in Western Europe. While there used to be hundreds of mosques in the area, it is La Mezquita that still remains today. Upon entering the gates you are met with the Patio de Los Naranjes where you can drink in sunshine or shade as you please while you listen to the bubbling fountains and enjoy the beautifully ordered orange trees. Once you are satisfied with this taste of serenity you may enter into the mosque itself which is stunning by any architectural estimate. There are more than 850 granite, marble and jasper pillars throughout. These pillars are designed to create a sense of endlessness as a sort of visual key to the omnipresence of God. This massive space is then imbued with a mystical note by the mix of sunlight and hundreds of suspended oil lamps. The red and white voussoirs are a salute to the Great Mosque of Damascus. It is truly a forest of stone. The biggest surprise of all is that deep within all of this is a catholic cathedral! When the Castilians reconquered Cordoba in 1236 they had plans to demolish the mosque but changed their minds and simply popped a Gothic chapel inside instead. After much oohing and aahing the Wilson Seis-Paquetes turned to exit the Mezquita to enjoy the sights and sounds of the night market, complete with turrón (Spanish almond candy), belly dancers, and flamenco artists.

Next we hit the sweet site known as Seville. Home to the infamous Carmen, as well as other celebrities such as Don Juan, and Figaro. What caught our eye though was the Triana quarter of the old city. The horse drawn carriages through the cobble stoned streets were simply dreamy. And it is in this quarter that one finds the Cathedral de Santa Maria which has the bragging rights of being the biggest gothic cathedral in the world. Immense as it is what really draws the crowds is the tomb of Christopher Columbus. Like all the others before us we went in to get a peek at the monument to this 'illustrious and enlightened man'. As it turns out, he requested in his will that he be buried in the paradise he discovered, Santo Domingo (Dominican Republic), but he was first buried in Castille, then a few years later moved to Santo Domingo. When the French moved in, the Spaniards dug him up for a second time and moved him to Havana. About 100 years later he was once more disturbed and hauled back to Seville were at least part of him now rests. There are competing claims that some of his remains are still in Santo Domingo, as well as in his hometown of Genoa. Surely he is the only mortal of whom it can be said in life and death he traveled the ocean blue - again, and again, and again! The man may never rest though. There are claims he was a secret Templar; that he is actually Spanish, not Italian; a mystic; and our personal favorite: the illegitimate son of the pope. Whatever his story, wherever his bones may be; in Seville, his tomb is raised by four monarchs of Spain who pledge eternal gratitude to him for his endeavors.

Shortly thereafter we sped down to the beach town of Malaga; the birthplace of Pablo Picasso and Antonio Banderas where everyone is steaming with creativity and sensuality. Well, maybe not everyone but it is a fun town with a nice beach and ample charm. We enjoyed the seaside once again and feasted on superb swordfish. Our clock was ticking though. Our beast of burden, The Wilson Wagon, had one week left on its lease. So we sped off to Granada and the Alhambra.

The Alhambra is a hilltop palace - fortress overlooking Granada with a history spanning more than 800 years. It is the finest example of Moorish architecture in Spain. There are countless halls, chambers and courtyards and an infinite number of mosaics and tiles to adorn it. The skill with which the marble, alabaster and plaster tiles are carved is a testament to the Arabs' love of mathematical precision. It was built as a representation of paradise on earth with great attention spent on reflection and symmetry. There are tales of a Moorish Princess who died there unhappy in love and who still haunts the chambers. There are tales of a spellbound princess wandering the grounds in the form of a cat. All we can report is that there are dozens of cats prowling around and Princesses or not, they are adored by a never ending stream of snack-packing fans. They appear quite content, whatever their origins.

With one more stop at the beach to bid farewell to the magical Mediterranean Sea we made the last leg of our Spanish journey to Madrid. The landscape was a series of changes from beach to snow to olive groves but always drenched with sun. We passed forests of solar panels and wind turbines and learned that Spain is the world's leader in wind energy. With nary a metre of land to waste it is also the world's largest producer of olive oil and carob.
Madrid, home to six million citizens, was a bit of a shock after such a long stint of rural living but once we ditched the car we found it much more inviting. Bruce explored the Prado for art and the rest of the six pack explored Buen Retiro park. Like NYC's central park it offers a pleasant retreat from automania and all the noise pollution that goes with it. Once we all regrouped we enjoyed exploring just a few dozen of the 2800 rooms in the Palace Real. It was pleasing to see a fresco in the dining room depicting Columbus returning to Queen Isabella with exotic treasures from abroad. One of them of course was cocoa beans. Following suit we took to the shops to find some treasures of our own. The kids can tell you 'chocolate con churros' is a must-do in Spain. If you like dunking your donuts into cups full of warm chocolate sauce then you will enjoy this Madrid experience. If you don't like the churros you can ditch them and down the chocolate right out of the cup as some of us are want to do.... We too pledge eternal gratitude for your endeavors Senor Columbus...Mucho Gracias!
The next day, thanks to a sluggy shuttle to the airport the last snapshot of this family in Spain is a flash of two parents, four kids, six carry-ons and one Curious George yelling "¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!" as we dashed across two terminals to catch our flight. We made it in the nick of time and were the last six people to board. Triumphant in making it and discovering we had four entire rows to ourselves in the back of the plane we high-fived each other and energetically set our sites for our next home: Budapest Here We Come!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1197453420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1197453420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1197453420/tpod.html Sun, 16 Dec 2007 13:46:32 -0500 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Carcassonne, France

Ah, La vie en Provence. There in the vineyards you can see the palette of the November landscape becoming a little more muted with each passing day but still the beauty continues unabated. The country life here has only gotten better with time. In our final month here we were blessed enough to cross paths with a gentle roving Shepard and his great bleating family. They stayed in our neck of the woods for about a week and he enjoyed our visits as much as we did. Mucky fields, spunky sheepdogs and precious little 2 week old lambs made us keen to go for daily walks. We were delighted to finally catch a glimpse of a hasty little sanglier darting through the fields. These little guys can't stop to visit what with all the hunters around. Its very rustic to hear their gunshots every morning but a little less charming when Bruce was sprayed by buckshot whilst out jogging!

We were often enticed by all the lovely fragrances wafting around as well and decided to take a side trip to Grasse, where flowers and their fragrances rule. We toured Fragonard Perfume Museum and learned that good perfume is aged. Good perfume takes tons of flowers - 10,000 pounds of rose petals to make one pound of rose oil. And good perfume is decided by some one referred to as a 'nose'. He or she may be born into a perfume dynasty such as Guerlain and/or be educated in chemistry and learn to distinguish between 1500 and 2000 different smells. It takes about seven years to become a good nose. Truly a mélange of art and science with glorious outcomes.

We were also wooed into the culture of the marathon lunch. Who would resist 2-3 hours with good company and good food? There is no commerce to participate in through the middle of the day other than food consumption so why not? We enjoyed it al fresco with friends, as well as in delightful digs like revamped convents and antiquated abbeys. We enjoyed homemade bouillabaisse in true Mediterranean style with just the right fish, just the right wine, and with friends and family. It was on this tour of decadent lunches that we discovered another jewel of France: Monsiuer Alain Ducasse. A chef of provencal cuisine who has for years run the show at le Louis XV in Monaco. We were decidedly impressed with what his team had to offer in a little country auberge near our house, so it seemed only natural to book a good meal with him to celebrate Su's birthday.
So the birthday came, and with the kids off picking olives with the grandparents, we dumped the big pig of a van and picked up a car with a little more style for the trip to Monaco. Not to brag, but it was the car 007 drove in Casino Royale...mm hmm, you know the 'spy-in-cognito' Ford he drove in the Bahamas? Yep, that one...

We stopped off in Nice to celebrate the arrival of Nouveau Beaujolais and gaze at those gorgeous Italian facades in the old section of town. And lo and behold there was a 'busker' playing a little Debussy just to keep the mood dreamy! There is just a bevy of beautiful Italian and French delights both in sights and food waiting to be had in Nice. It is called the Queen of the Mediterranean with its Bay of Angels and Promenade des Anglais. We did not pay it enough due but there were only so many free hours to spend and Monaco was calling...
Now if you want to go to the smallest, most uptight country in the world then set your sites on those 0.2 square miles called the Vatican. But if you want to go to the smallest, most glamorous country in the world, then head to the 0.7 square miles of magnificence known as Monaco. Think affluence, opulence, extravagance, and there you are in Casino Square. All the toys are parked outside, and all the players are inside throwing their millions around for a little light fun. In the foyer of the casino sits a statue of Fortuna, the goddess of good fortune and happiness. It is said she bestows large fortunes on certain lucky people of her choice but for those who fall from her grace she bestows poverty. She was also regarded as the goddess of chance which comes in handy in a place like this. We played some roulette, some black jack and some slots. We won some, we lost some, but having a microscopic amount to play with compared to those whose elbows we rubbed we somehow didn't make it on Fortuna's good list. Perhaps we left before she had a chance to decide but we didn't want to leave her with a bad impression either. All of Monaco is easy on the eyes so we explored to our hearts content. The birthday lunch was indeed spectacular. All 7 courses! If you were on a quest for tiramisu you might not expect it on such a hoighty-toighty menu but it is available and much to our surprise it is topped with gold leaf. But that is Le Louis for you. It makes you think you were in Versailles. Ooh la la! Our lease on Monaco was all too short and it was time to speed back to the family. We stopped on the haute corniche to take one last look at the sun kissed jewel. Ciao bella!
Our last little bit of France was spent poking about Aix-en-Provence home to Cezanne and Santons Fouque. Santons are the little clay figurines made for crèche displays throughout Provence. There are hundreds of characters to choose from and each home has its own version. Much to Gracie's delight our friend Yvonne invited her to help build a crèche with these little saints while the rest of us were out olive picking. It doesn't get much more Provencal than that!

As we bid farewell to St. Maximin we headed westward to explore Le Pont du Gard. A massive Roman aqueduct made with precision cut stones weighing up to 6 tons each. It is amazing to realize it is built entirely without mortar and stands 2000 years old. The ancient olive trees growing near by could tell some interesting tales for sure. From there we sped on to the medieval fortress town of Carcassonne. While its history stretches back across a myriad of religious conflicts and battles to 100 BC, it is now fully restored and thrives as a peaceful city today. It has been long rumored that the Holy Grail was taken to this place by the Templars fleeing the holy land. It amuses the minds of all who visit and after a short time it does start to make you wonder what the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow is... You could adore the tapestries and quaint handicrafts for sale at length but after you go through the Inquisition Museum the images of nobles playing lutes and forests full of unicorns are wiped right out of your mind. In our photos we have shown just two of the grisly torture instruments of the middle ages. This kind of history just stops your heart cold. On a lighter note, the Mask of Infamy was used for women who talk too much...Shhh! Say no more except this: If you are looking for a good read, try Labyrinth by Kate Mosse which retells the history of Carcassonne through a tale of adventure and mystery.



At the end of this whole affair one could say that the south of France; she strikes you like a Bond girl. She is scintillating; she is captivating. You taste her and think she should be yours. You know she has a torrid past but you tell yourself it doesn't matter. You will love her like no one has before. All that she is, all that she has, just keeps coming at you and you only want more. She is capricious and frustrating. She won't make sense when she should. She makes you crazy with irritation but then she smiles at you and you love her again. That Occitania; she is a delicious mystery. We are glad to have known her, to have savored her with all that good wine but the reality is that the winds of change are blowing and the time has come for us to go. We look up at the Cathar castle glittering on the hill. It was ours to behold for a moment. We look south to the Pyrenees and start the engine. Destination: Andalusia. To the land of sun, sea, and Sangria; of Picasso and paella; where the ghosts of the Alhambra await us...from Spain we wish you Feliz Navidad y una Feliz Ano Nuevo!









]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1194893640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1194893640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1194893640/tpod.html Wed, 14 Nov 2007 19:59:09 -0500 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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Saint Maximin, France

Alas! The Cote D'Azur has chilled! October has arrived and has encouraged to us to relinquish our hold on the beaches and instead try our hands at cycling thru the vineyards and splashing in the pool. The days are still warm and sunny but the nights are blustery and blanketed with a chill. With the Rathole as a mere memory, we are thrilled to be reaping the bounty of the walnut, almond, and pomegranate trees this new address has to offer and have a refreshed fondness for a big grassy yard in which to play soccer.

As we found ourselves in the midst of what seems to be a million and one vineyards we set out in the first week to see just what they have to offer. We chose as a starting point Chateau Neuf du Pape, home to the most palatable red made in France. While that in itself was good fun we also happened upon a fairytale castle turned hotel just around the bend called Fine Roche. The bonus of it was when we arrived they just happened to have an Alfa Romeo test drive tour for passersby. While the boys enjoyed a sporty spin across the countryside, the girls took seat on the patio and enjoyed the view as well as some delightful home made ice-cream. Sweet Serendipity!

Later we ventured past all the vineyards and into the interior to the gorges of Verdon where the elevation is slightly higher and the seasonal colors are eager to display themselves. The scale of the canyon and the riot of colors were really too much for our little 3 pixel Canon but we tried our best. Think Grand Canyon meets New England in the fall and you get the idea. Brilliant!

Back home in Saint Maximin the October celebrations took a foothold with the Pumpkin Festival providing everything from stew to pie, as well as face painting and bouncy castles. Organ grinders, accordion quartets, barbeques and pumpkin scented soap made it appealing to all the senses. All the local farmers were there to show off their wares and join in on the action. We also enjoyed the Autumn Festival complete with mountains of chocolate, cheese, wine and locals donning traditional costumes and dancing out front of the convent.

Most of our evenings were filled with the tales of The Count of Monte Cristo which once completed became the impetus to set sail from Marseille to Chateau D'If. This 16th century island prison is austere but not as spooky as we imagined. The names of all its famous prisoners are listed for visitors. As well as The Count, the Man in the Iron Mask was also locked up there. Marseille turns out to be quite lovely from what we saw and certainly not worthy of its reputation as a seedy sailor's port. We enjoyed the many beautiful sights (do you see any sailboats you like?) and finally gave into a ride on a Venetian carousel. These beauties are on every beach and in many towns teasing the children to spend their parents' money. How many times can you say no to something so sweet?

We also finally made our way back to Glamour central - Monaco to see the palace before it closes for the season. Princess Grace is still deeply missed 25 years after her death and her legend lives on. Our little Grace took a real shine to the images of the Princess and as we strolled through the palace asked aloud "When are we going to stay here?"

Bruce's parents arrived for a visit which was a breath of "back home" for the kids and a chance to break free for Bruce and Su. We skipped off to see the Roman ruins of Arles and Orange and promptly ran into Bruce's uncle in the Arlesian Antique museum. Both parties were equally surprised as it happened by pure chance (he lives in Vancouver and happened to be on holiday down here too!) He invited us to lunch and we had a laugh over what a small world it is after all. (Forgot to mention we ran into some Dunbar neighbors in the middle of Heathrow airport too!) Whose path shall we cross next?

Halloween came and was politely acknowledged by the local chamber of commerce. There were a few modest decorations in the shops but no fireworks or hoopla as it is considered an un-European tradition. Trick-or-treating occurs not at houses but in shops from 3-5pm and that's it!

And so you see October flew by even faster than previous months here. Happily we find the only critters still crawling are a couple of small shy snakes, those sweet but prickly hedgeys, and Milky the friendly cat from next door. Across the road we see the vineyards on fire with the mantle of autumn. Waves of red and orange are crashing against each other under the silvery green boughs of the olive trees. Throw in a good sunset as a backdrop and you can barely drive a straight line for all your gawking. So here we are lapping up all this beauty as well as equal amounts of superb rosé and looking forward to the olive harvest, the truffle season, and a little birthday celebration coming up soon...


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1192494420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1192494420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sutiramisu/thewilson6pack/1192494420/tpod.html Wed, 17 Oct 2007 21:58:34 -0400 The Wilsons wander the world seeking out all the sushi, tiramisu, rugby, and sunshine they can find.

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St Maximin, France

When one travels, ones never imagines the unsightly scenes that lie ahead. When one reads Frommer's or Fodor's travel guides it is rare to see pictures of the things that no one wants to see. But of course these things, distasteful as they are, do exist, even in places that one might expect to be paradise.

As previously written, we arrived in our villa late at night tired and unawares of the finer details of our domicile. The next day we awoke with enthusiasm and readily forgave the floor that needing washing, and the peeling paint on the walls inside and out....and the cobwebs... Then we discovered the camel crickets with their great long stingers. But as it turned out, the stinger is actually an ovipositor and the cricket is perfectly harmless. Whew! And how about those nasty scorpions? While they are gruesome, we were forewarned by Peter Mayle and took heart in the fact that they aren't poisonous... Well, not really poisonous anyway... With glee we discovered the praying mantis that bravely battles all of the above.
But the scorpions took a liking to us and started showing up in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the laundry and much to our fright, in the shower! Then they started showing up dead. Who was fearsome enough to attack these eight legged monsters? Was it a great praying mantis, a humungous spider or that God awful zamboni centipede that just sped across the room at 100km/hr? We never found out but Isaac got brave and caught one to keep as a decidedly outdoor pet. He is named Chabal after the crazy and dangerous French rugby player.

While all this was distracting enough, there soon were several disturbers just outside our bedroom window. Why they weren't there the first night, no one knows. But as following nights set in they began crawling up the vines, gnawing on the shutters, squeaking and shrieking for us to let them in. Tap dancing in the rafters, congregating in the attic, these scaly tailed, vulgar vermin were all around us begging to get into our quarters and share some quality time together. While it would seem to us that the previous tenant was some Gallic version of Willard Stiles (http://www.willardmovie.com/index_flash.html ) the caretakers were not concerned with our objections to this plague. And then it happened that Su came home late one night and upon exiting the car came face to face with more than a few of these greasy rodent thugs. It was a turning point to say the least. Her shrill cries could be heard back in blessed Italia, and no one could deny it was time to pack up.

We found a new place within 24 hrs but couldn't enter it for two more weeks during which we spent as much time as possible out and about! We regained a love for creatures big and small by visiting the Frejus Zoo and whiled away our days on the warm and glorious beaches of the Cote D'Azur. We hoped to determine which beach was the best, which would be our favorite but we could not decide. They each have their own unique charms and each deserve a visit or two... or ten. The world's most amazing candy store certainly put St. Raphael on the short list. The glamour of St. Tropez is not to be missed, especially in September when all the crowds have gone away. L'Escalet was great snorkelling. But the seclusion and sparkling sand of Estagnol was also delightful. All this was topped by the palm lined vineyards we drove past on a daily basis. As the harvest season was just a week or two away their fruity perfume pervaded the whole area. It made for brilliant road snacks.

One other amusing diversion we must mention is the visit to one of the local ostrich farms. We learned these giant birds can run up to 70 km/hr and can do so for 30 minutes straight. That makes them the second fastest animal in the world. They can jump over obstacles up to one meter in height and can give a seriously mean kick. They lay their eggs in dug outs in the ground and contrary to popular myth DO NOT bury their heads in the sand. When western hunters first discovered them, they saw these great birds on the horizon and tried to approach. The birds became alarmed and lowered their heads in a bid to protect their nests and the hunters believed they had buried their heads in the sand. We bought one egg for 14 euros and eagerly shared it with friends Jacques, Yvonne, Clara and Raphael. The ostrich egg is strong enough to withstand the weight of an adult, and requires drilling to be opened. The contents equal 20-24 chicken eggs and taste virtually the same if not somewhat more delicate. It was a fabulous feast of soufflé, omelettes, and pancakes.

Since then we have happily vacated "The Rathole" with our souvenir egg shell and two new pets Godzilla and Chabal in tow. We are now settled and contented in a dreamy farmhouse nestled between some woods and vineyards. There are no vermin, instead, a bounty of ebullient tweety birds and plenty of cats to chase them. Every now and then a dopey little hedgehog crosses our path and we smile because, God bless them, they love to eat bugs.

The beaches have chilled, the grapes have been picked, and the World Rugby Cup is nearly over. As September draws to a close, the school books are being opened. As we remain in this locale throughout October and November we will set our sights to all the great culture and history surrounding us, and will faithfully relay to you just how beautiful the Provencal autumn is. A la Prochaine!

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