little black journal

I’ve been feeling the travel itch for awhile now, dreaming of places to go, things to see, food to eat, leisure to live…  Shane and I went back and forth over what we thought our Fall vacation should look like, wanting to go for the gusto, but not knowing if the timing was right for an ultimate vay-cay.  After monitoring ticket prices and checking our work schedules, we threw caution to the wind and decided this was the year to make a European voyage happen.  After doing my routine Expedia search at lunchtime a couple of months ago, I found a killer deal on flights, grabbed the phone and called Shane with a ‘Buy NOW!’ directive, and within a matter of minutes, we were booked!  One week in Holland and Belgium, and one glorious week in Paris.  This weekend we put the finishing touches on our itinerary, confirming our train tickets and reserving the last of our accommodations.  Four nights in Amsterdam, two nights in Bruges, two nights in Lyon, and seven whole nights in the City of Light.  And with our departure just over two weeks away, I have officially become crazy with excitement.  I’ve been spending my evenings making my eat/see/do list – looking forward to taking in both the modern and funky, and the old and beautiful.  We’re going to stay up late and drink wine and walk along the sparkly Seine, then get up late and eat pain au chocolate paired with tiny cups of espresso.  I am going to stand in front of my favorite Dubuffet painting at the Pompidou, and speak French (God willing) with waiters and those lovely-but-so-unhelpful people at the Metro ticket window.  We’re going to explore places we’ve never been, and return to places that rank as our all-time favorite spots on the face of the earth.  I’m going to eat everything on this list and not feel bad about it.  And we are going to bask in the simple-but-too-often-forgotten fact that la vie est belle…

Thursday was our last full day in Banff, and since our legs were still slightly weary from the previous day’s hike, we decided to get in the car and do some sightseeing along the Icefields Parkway.  Our first stop along the way was Peyto Lake – as we made the short-but-steep climb up to this vista, I started to huff and muttered to myself, “I hope this is worth it…”  And…duuuuuude!  Now this is a view.  ‘Nuff said.

Peyto Lake was impossible to top, but we made several other stops along the way, hopping out of the car to snap a few photos or skip a few rocks.

We spent the afternoon at Lake Moraine, drinking in the view of more turquoise water from our little rented canoe.

And one final quiet evening at the campsite – Shane polished off the rest of our screwcap wine while I kept the fire stoked, and we thought to ourselves, “This was just what we needed.”

On Friday morning, we made one last stop at Lake Louise on our way out of town, knowing that it could be a very long time before we came across anything this beautiful again.  *Sigh*.

The drive home was loooong, but we made it back to Seattle in one piece on Friday night, eager to wash the smell of campfire out of our hair and sleep in our own comfy bed.  And with that, our week in the great outdoors was behind us.  *Double sigh*…

From the second we hit the outskirts of Banff National Park on Tuesday evening, I knew we were in for something special – the rugged, snow-capped peaks set against the blue, blue sky were stunning.  But that first glimpse was just the tip of the iceberg (I know, I just can’t stop with the bad puns!), because we were in for so much more than we’d even hoped for.  Our campsite was just 4 km from Lake Louise, so we were up-and-at-em Wednesday morning for a nice long hike around the edge of the lake and then up through the mountains to the Plain of Six Glaciers.  I’ve heard stories about the indescribable color of Lake Louise, and it’s true, I’ve never seen anything like it.  The glacial deposits in the water give it this deep aqua tint that makes you think you’re in the Caribbean, until you look up and see that you’re surrounded by glaciers.  The pictures really don’t do it justice…  After drinking in the beauty of the lake, we set off on our hike, which began with a nice little stroll along the shore.

Then we climbed…

And climbed…

And decided to stop for photos of each other while we were both still smiling…

Climbed some more, and voila!  Victory!  4.2 miles later, we had reached our destination, where we each flopped down on a nice flat rock and sighed a big fat sigh of satisfied pride.  The view was stunning, the air was perfectly crisp and fresh, the deep blue sky was strewn with puffy white clouds, and I think we each said a silent thank you to God for being so amazingly talented.

After catching our breath, we picked ourselves up and made our way down the mountain in record time, stopping at the bottom to get a good look at the way the change in the sun’s angle had altered the color of the lake.

Our aching feet told us we’d earned the right to forsake our cold cuts on wheat bread for burgers and fries in downtown Banff.  And I will not apologize for eating out while camping, ’cause those sweet potato fries were gooood.  The rest of the evening was spent lounging around the campsite, reading, popping open a bottle of screw-cap wine, and keeping the fire stoked.  And I was convinced, we just might be onto something with this whole camping thing…

I have spent the past few days sifting through my photos and my memories of our week and Mexico – below is a random smattering of reflections…

First off, hot damn!  This place is beautiful!  From the sandy beaches to the lush jungles just off-shore, I was constantly struck by the magnificence of the landscape.  I don’t know if it’s the vastness of it, or the never-ending rhythm of the waves, or just our innate human desire to be near water, but the ocean has a draw to it that is unlike any other force I know.  And with most of our beach experiences being along the chilly Pacific of the California Central Coast, it was such a treat to set foot in the water at Sayulita and find that it was perfectly suited for swimming.  We were constantly in and out of the water during our whole week in Mexico, hopping in with a boogie board when the waves picked up, grabbing a snorkel mask when they died down, and then popping in just for a quick dip when the sun got too hot.  And seriously, how can you top waking up to the sun rising over the ocean?

Second, sometimes it is good, and perfectly acceptable, to spend a few days just being supremely lazy.  I wouldn’t really call Shane and I ‘beach-people’, but after a full day spent just camped out in a lounge chair under a shade umbrella in the sand, we were sold on the merits of beach-bumming.  On one of our last days there, with absolutely nothing on the agenda for the day, we left our room with a couple of beach towels, our books, and some bottled water, walked out onto the beach, staked our claim at a couple of lounge chairs, and, with the exception of jumping into the ocean for the occasional swim, did nothing but laze around to the sound of the waves for a good eight hours.  It was heaven.  Now if only we could get used to falling asleep to the chirping of the geckos darting across our ceiling, and if only we didn’t have those pesky jobs to return to, I bet we could find a beach-front villa with our name on it (preferably with a bathtub like this one).

Third, I loved being able to get a small taste of Mexican culture while in Sayulita, but there is no denying that this is ultimately a tourist town.  On the one hand, there is comfort in knowing that most shop and restaurant owners know how to speak English, in seeing other Americans crowding the tables of a restaurant and taking that as a sign that the food is ‘Gringo-friendly’.  But I would have liked to have been pushed slightly further out of my comfort zone – to have been forced to recall my bits of broken Spanish, or to have witnessed the customs and traditions that are integral to life in small-village Mexico.  I don’t know exactly what I was looking for, and honestly, I don’t know if we’re quite bold enough to go that far off the beaten path, I just know that there is cultural richness that has been somewhat suppressed in Sayulita.  I guess I want to have my flan and eat it, too – I want all the comforts of a tourist-friendly town, without the presence of all those other tourists…  Nonetheless, the town was still full of charm.  I especially loved the bold use of color – in the storefronts, in the banners strung over the streets, in the beach bags being sold on the sidewalks.  Everywhere I turned, I was greeted with a new shade of orange or blue or gold.  Seattle could take a few lessons from Sayulitans on brightening things up.

And now, as I sit here on the couch, cozied up in a blanket while the rain falls outside, Mexico feels so very far away…  But how blessed we are to have a week’s worth of beach-side memories.

We are about to embark on our fifth full day here in Sayulita, and I sit here on the beach, watching the sun rise over the horizon of the ocean, I am thinking that there is no place else I would rather be. Yes, we have already endured surfing injuries, sunburns, inexplicable rashes, geckos in the bedroom, and some rather significant digestive ‘issues’, but through it all, we cannot deny that this place is as close to paradise that we’ve ever come.

We arrived at the Puerto Vallarta airport on Thursday afternoon, and after making our way through the hoards of eager cab drivers, we made it to the car rental place, where we picked up our miniature car and hopped on the highway to head north toward Sayulita. The drive was a little nerve-racking, since speed limit signs were few and far between, and we had no intention of breaking the law on our first day here, but we made it to our hotel incident-free and were overjoyed when we were shown to our room at Villa Amor, with its breathtaking view of the ocean below. I didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that the place only has three walls, because really, why build anything that would limit a view like this???

Once settled into our room, we headed off to town to check out the local scene and grab a bite to eat. We stumbled upon Sayulita Fish Tacos, where we were shown to a table overlooking the little town plaza. We feasted on delicious fish tacos, paired perfectly with a couple of Coronas. It was Happy Hour time, which means that we each got two hearty tacos and two beers for less than four dollars apiece. Nice! The rest of the evening was spent on the beach, sipping another Corona and watching the surfers catch their final waves of the day. I have never been able to switch into ‘vacation mode’ so easily – it’s impossible not to relax here.

The next couple of days were spent bouncing back and forth between the beach for swimming, and the town for tacos, beer, and fruit popsicles. I love just wandering among the narrow, cobblestone streets of the town, taking in the vibrant colors and enticing smells coming from the storefronts and food carts. Around every corner, someone has set up a folding table with a small grill on it, complete with all the fixin’s for some of the best tacos we’ve ever tasted. We couldn’t help ourselves. But sadly, early the next morning, we were asking ourselves, “How can something that tastes sooooo good be sooooo bad?” Shane and I were totally out of commission on Sunday, with a case of Montezuma’s Revenge. Thankfully, we were able to speak with the town doctor while at the pharmacy, and he prescribed some antibiotics that had us back on our feet the next day. It could have been worse, so I’m thankful for our relatively quick recoveries. And I was thinking, if I’m going to spend all day curled up in the fetal position, what better place to do it than from a bed with a view of the ocean, right?

Yesterday marked the beginning of the second leg of our trip, as we checked into our room at Playa Escondida, just down the road from Sayulita, but in a much more secluded setting. This place has its own private beach, the most beautiful pool I’ve ever seen, and a bartender that’s rumored to mix a mean margarita – I’m currently pleading with my stomach to allow me the pleasure of one (maybe two) cocktails this evening.

Lots more pics and details to follow once we’re back in Seattle – right now, I’ve got a morning yoga session on the beach to get to. How do you say “this is the life” en Espanol?

Yep – tomorrow’s the big day!  My toenails are freshly painted, my suitcase is crammed with every strappy, shoulder-baring top I own, and Shane and I are ready for a week in Sayulita, Mexico!!!  I had so much fun pulling my summer gear out of my closet tonight – my brown ruffled halter dress hasn’t been worn since I was in Hawaii two years ago, and I’m so ready to slip back into it.  It’s taken me a little while to become really, truly excited about this trip, since I’ve been distracted with work and my funk and busy-ness in general, but tonight, once I turned on my out-of-office message at work, picked up the last few things we needed for the trip, and saw our itinerary all printed out and ready to go on the counter, the pre-vacation jitters really set in.  Right now, nothing sounds better to me than sinking down onto a towel laid out on the warm sand, ordering a fruity cocktail, and spending a few hours with a good book.  Aaaahhh!  I’m giddy just thinking about.  But we’ve got an early flight tomorrow, so I better try to get some sleep – tonight will be the first night in awhile that I won’t dream about work or chores or any other to-do’s.  Buenos noches, amigos…

I have undertaken the task going through the nearly 3000 photos I took during our two-week vacation, picking out some of my favorites for printing or sharing here.  It’s a slow process – so many to choose from, each one coupled with a special memory.  I’ll sporadically post a few on my blog as I’m sorting – here are the particularly special ones I came across tonight:

By the end of our time in Paris, Shane was rolling his eyes as I stopped to take my 200th picture of Parisian roof lines.  Can’t help it – even though buildings like this are found all over the city, I am still enamoured with each and every one of them.  So lovely…

Lampposts were also a favorite photographic subject – it’s all about the little things (although the sight of the Eiffel Tower in the background certain helps the composition).

More roof lines – this one was taken from the terrace of the Pompidou:

Signs of springtime…

Rue Montorgueil – one of my favorite streets in Paris, lined with cafes and cheese shops and little markets.  Shane and I had a nice leisurely lunch at a little pizzeria on this street after our trip to the Pompidou.

Place des Vosges – one of my favorite public squares in Paris (I’m starting to notice that everything in Paris is described as “my favorite…” – bear with me).  We stayed just a couple of blocks away from here and frequented this spot.  Great place to sit on a bench, eat a sandwich, and people-watch.

Yowsers:

Already our time in Paris and Portugal feels like it was so long ago – I’m ready for a repeat!  But for now, my memories and my thousands of photos will have to do, which isn’t so bad – there’s satisfaction in reminiscing about such a perfect trip…

After a rainy stroll through the Parque del Retiro and a cafe con leche at the top of the CaixaForum building, we left Madrid to head back to Paris on Friday.  Our time in Madrid had felt too short, and I had loved Portugal, but I was itching to get back to Paris.  And from the minute we popped up out of the Metro station and onto the sidewalks of the 3rd arrondisement, I was overjoyed.  So happy to hear the sound of French being spoken around me, so taken with the rooflines and wrought iron railings on the buildings facing the street, so drawn to those tiny tables on the sidewalks in front of the brasseries.  In a way, it felt like coming home, which was cool – it’s nice to know that nearly five years after living here, I still haven’t lost my knowledge of and my attachment to Paris.  We checked into our cute little room on Rue de Turbigo and then set out for dinner at Cafe Briezh – we’d been eyeing this place’s dinner crepes last week, but had never been able to get a table.  We had success at finding a spot this time and promptly ordered a buckwheat crepe with cheese, ham and mushrooms for myself and one filled with egg, cheese, and smoked filet mignon for Shane.  Paired with a pitcher of the special hard cider of the house, dinner was delicious.  We of course had left room for dessert, and ordered one crepe with bananas, caramel, and ice cream, and another with chocolate, pears, and whipped cream.  Heaven.

We spent the rest of the evening strolling through the Marais and along the Seine, stopping on Ile de la Cite to listen to the same sidewalk jazz band that we’d come across the Friday before.  We ended the night with a small carafe of wine from Les Philosophes and went to bed that night so thankful that we’d have one more day to soak in the richness of Paris.

We were thrilled to wake up to clear blue skies on Saturday morning.  The first order of business of the day was hopping on the Metro toward Montparnasse, as part of our continual quest for the perfect pain au chocolat.  Jack had read an article about a baker down there whose croissants had gotten rave reviews, and so we figured, “Why not?”  We picked up a couple of pastries and found a bench in a nearby park where we could sit and savor our buttery finds.  My pain au chocolat was pretty near perfect – crisp and flaky on the outside, soft and airy on the inside, and swirled with a ribbon of rich dark chocolate.  The breakfast of gods:

Next stop was the Fondation Cartier, a large art exhibition space and one of my favorite contemporary buildings in Paris.  I appreciate this place more and more each time I visit it – so simple, but so well-planned and special.  I noticed for the first time the amazing green wall that is growing over the entrance – nice!

We had dedicated the rest of the day to aimlessly wandering the city, lounging on park benches and sitting at cafe terraces.  And so we strolled over to the Jardin du Luxembourg to see how much blooming the flowers had done since we’d been there ten days ago.  The tulips were popping open in bright shades of orange and pink, and we grabbed a couple of chairs in front of the small pond to soak in the spring colors and watch the kids nearby push their little sailboats around in the water.

One hour, one baguette sandwich, and many rays of sun later, we were ready to peel ourselves from our lounge chairs and do some walking.  We ended up at the Jardin des Plantes, where we found more brightly blooming flowers and a park bench with our name on it.  And so we took a seat to for more people-watching, flower-gazing, and sun-soaking.  Saturday afternoons just don’t get any better than that.

And what better way to end a couple hours of park lounging than with a cold beer or a cup of espresso at a sidewalk cafe?  So we made another trip to Les Philosophes (our new favorite Marais bar) to have a drink and really “play Parisian”, as all of the terraces were crowded with French people enjoying their weekend.

For dinner that night, we checked out a cute little restaurant called Robert and Louise on Vielle du Temple.  Shane had both escargot and confit du canard for the first time, and loved them both.  The snails were smooth and buttery, and the duck leg was tender and fatty.  Mmmmm…  For dessert, we decided to head out and find a table on a sidewalk terrace.  We found such a table a couple blocks away and were soon sitting in front of a tasty little dish of creme brule, a cup of espresso, and a nice glass of Port.  We ate and drank as we watched the stylish passers-by, took in the view of the lovely Parisian streetfronts, and enjoyed the company of each other, so thankful for the memories that had been made over the past two weeks.  We ended the evening with a walk along the Seine, with its glittering reflections and beautiful bridges, and there on the Pont Neuf we said our good-byes to Paris, promising we would return again before too long.

In need of just one more chance to revel in Paris, I got up at 6 this morning to take a final walk through the city.  As I wandered the deserted streets, I was again so thankful for the chance to revisit what I have come to believe is one of the most beautiful places in the world.

We are on the plane back to Seattle now, and there were a few tears on the runway as it really sunk in that our long-anticipated trip is over, but there’s an ever-increasing part of me that is ready to be home.  I miss our house, our bed, our friends and neighbors, and my nightly cup of mint tea.  I am looking forward to seeing if our daffodils have bloomed, to cooking in our kitchen (you can only sustain a diet of pastries and cheese for so long…), and to being able to pick up the phone to call my family or my best friends without worrying about time changes or long distance charges.  Yes, on the flip side, there is a list of things I will miss about Europe as well: our morning runs to the boulangerie, speaking French (I made it through our entire time in Paris without having to use English with any French speakers!  I had forgotten how much I love that language…), having access to so much art right at my fingertips, fast and efficient public transportation, and tiny cups of espresso  But it is time to go home.  HOME.  That sounds nice.  And so, au revoir Paris…

Our second day in Madrid was a whirlwind of sight-seeing, as we tried to absorb as much as we could during our relatively short time there.  The first stop of the day was the Museo del Prado, which houses one of Spain’s most prized art collections.  It was fantastic to see in person so many paintings that I’d read about in art history books – pieces by Goya, Velazquez, and Ribera.  I was particularly taken with the brooding, somber qualities of Goya’s later work – more muted color palettes, less representational figures, dramatic brush strokes.  Shane accuses me of only liking “dark art”, and I guess my inclination towards these pieces only reinforced his point.  Who knew I had a dark side?

All of that art-seeing had us hungry, so we hopped across the street for a leisurely lunch (tapas, of course).  The sun was shining and I reveled in the warmth of our little table on the plaza.  Aaaahhh…  On the way to our next stop after lunch, we came across the CaixaForum – a totally amazing building recently completed by Herzog and deMeuron.  I was instantly taken with the outside of the building, and the super-cool green wall growing next to it.  The interior was impressive as well, with its innovative use of materials and simple, sleek forms.

After my contemporary-architecture-fix, we headed down the road for a contemporary-art-fix at the Reina Sofia.  The highlight of the museum visit was seeing Picasso’s “Guernica” – a piece famous for his representation of the horrors of war.  What a difference it makes to see a painting in person – I had glossed over this piece so many times in books, but standing there in front of it, as it filled the whole room, I understood the power of Picasso’s work.  Wow.

We said good-bye to Jack and La Verne yesterday evening as they hopped on a bus bound for southern Spain, and so Shane and I were left to our own devices for our final night in Madrid.  We took a walk through the near-by botanical gardens, enjoying the freshly bloomed flowers and the sight of so many families out for an evening stroll.

We then started our slow trek across the city center, stopping once or twice for tapas and beer along the way, and finally arrived at Madrid’s Royal Palace.  The palace was closed by the time we got there, but we were able to see the outside and spent awhile sitting on the steps of the church facing the palace, taking in the view of what has been called “Spain’s Versailles”.

From the Royal Palace, we wound our way back to the hotel, stopping once more for tapas and again for churros and chocolate – a local dessert or breakfast consisting of strips of fried dough dipped in a super-thick cup of hot chocolate.  Yes, it is just as rich and as fatty as it sounds.  But man, it tastes gooooood.  And we’re on vacation, right?  We fell into bed last night with tired feet and sore legs (and just the slightest stomach ache from our decadent dessert), but were so grateful for the chance we’d had to see so much during our short time there.  Shane has already put Spain on the “must-come-back-to” list.  No arguments here!

(This one was written on Thursday.)

We were up before dawn yesterday to catch our flight to Madrid.  After an insane cab ride to the airport (our driver sang to us in Portuguese while driving so fast that his speedometer needle had no place else to go), a short plane ride via RyanAir, and about an hour in the underground maze of Madrid’s Metro, we popped up on Paseo de Delicias and arrived at our hotel.  We were tired, but eager to drop off our things and begin our exploration of Spain.  And so the four of us headed to the train station down the street to purchase tickets to nearby Toledo, an old, beautiful city about 30 minutes south of Madrid by train.  Success was had, and by early afternoon, we were winding up the narrow cobblestone streets of Toledo on our way to the city’s cathedral, which has been termed “the best in Spain”.  The cathedral was impressive, in all its intricacy and elaborateness – it seemed that every surface of its interior was covered in fine carvings or beautiful paintings.  After our healthy dose of religious finery, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the town, just soaking in all that Toledo had to offer.  Sampled some local marzipan, peeked into the El Greco museum, and spent some time just hanging out on a bench in the town’s main plaza.  By the end of the afternoon, I was ready to escape the crowds of tourists and find out where Spain’s locals like to hang out, but it was a very pleasant day, all in all.

After a couple of hours back at the hotel to regain our strength and build up our appetites, we headed to Madrid’s city center to begin our much-anticipated tapas crawl.  I have come to believe that tapas may be one of my absolutely most favorite things about Spain.  You walk down nearly any street in Madrid at 10 pm and you will find at least one little hole in the wall where people whittle away the hours at the bar, snacking on small plates of local fare and throwing back impressive quantities of cerveza (beer) or vino (wine).  The look on every one’s faces seems to say, “I’ve got no place I need to be except right here”.  And so we sampled small plates of thinly sliced ham, spicy chorizo, sharp cheese, fresh clams, vinegar-soaked sardines, grilled prawns, and potatoes topped with a creamy, spicy sauce.  Five tapas bars later, we were full, satisfied with a night spent in true Spanish style.  I could so get used to this…