Libations & Explorations

Avignon, France My first full day in France was a Sunday.  I had arrived in Avignon the previous evening via the SCNF “Train a Grande Vitesse” (high speed train) from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris.  The journey took three hours and was on-time quite pleasant (the French state-owned railways are not known for their punctuality). What really made me fall in love with French trains, however, was that there was a carriage for First Class that served wine… (I had booked a ‘Billet de Premiere Classe’ aka a First Class Ticket). The Bar-Car Sundays are sacred to the French.  To them, it is a day for only one thing: vegetating.  Work is to be avoided at all cost. Knowing this, I expected Avignon to be completely shut down on my first day.  However, this wasn’t the case.  True, most shops, all government buildings, and businesses were closed. But, the Carrefour was open (a French grocery store chain) as were a few restaurants and cafes.  Mostly, the establi...

Two, clearly lost, tourists in the Medina It’s amazing how different a city looks at night versus during the day. When we had entered the restaurant Marrakech, the labyrinth of passageways knows as the Medina were bathed in the light of the early evening African sun. But now it was night. The shopkeepers had closed their stalls, put away their wares, and left nothing but the moonlight to lead our way.  It was as if we had left one city and gone to another over the course of diner.  Naturally, Doina, Svetlana, and I did what one does in these civilized times: fired up our cellphones.  However, other than providing a small amount of light in the dark alleyways, these devices are largely useless.  Other than getting you more lost than you were already, they let every local know that you are an ignorant tourist ripe for the picking! It’s a maze… We walked aimlessly, but always believing we knew where we were, for about 15 minutes.  We came to an intersection of four...

To the more seasoned traveler, the late Anthony Bourdain is a hero. He inspired a whole generation of us to pack our bags, get on a plane, and not eat at the hotel. When we are researching our trips to far off and exotic locations, we imagine we will be eating street food with the locals...reality tends to be a bit different. Most of us don't have a camera crew, bodyguards, and medical professionals to look after us when things go tits-up abroad.  I for one spent literally, not figuratively, 24 hours in the lavatory of my hotel room in Ho Chi Minh City after I ate some dodgy fish. Stories of overseas dining gone wrong are far from uncommon; but as Anthony himself said, "Good food and good eating are about risk. Every once in a while an oyster, for instance, will make you sick to your stomach. Does this mean you should stop eating oysters? No way".  Fortunately for Doina, Svetlana, and I; the risk didn't bite us in Morocco. For our first night in Casablanca, Doina had...

Streets of Loano (Canon P/Ilford Delta 400) We live in a world of social media, where life can be presented however one wishes.  Digital technology and AI has recently taken things to the next level; we are bombarded with entirely fictitious places and people that don't exist in the 'real' World.  So where is the authentic?  Where is the genuine?  I found it in Italy. For me, something becomes painfully inauthentic when it is a performance.  This is why I have no desire to go to Epcot in Walt Disney World (actually, anywhere in Disney World sounds like a nightmare to me). Epcot presents an interactive performance and says to you, "This is what life is like in Italy".  But, if you have never been to Italy, how would you really know?  You could look at pictures online I suppose, but that doesn't tell you what life in that place is really like. Fiat 500 in Florence (Canon F-1/Ilford HP5) I have been to Italy twice traveling through Lombardy, Tuscany, Vene...

'Vieux Quebec' (Canon P/ Kodak Tri-X 400) I have not gone out for New Years Eve for at least 8 years.  In fact, I haven't even bothered to stay awake till midnight for the last five!  Why was this?  Well, I live in Pittsburgh, and the thought of going out to celebrate the New Year with a bunch of drunken "yinzer" ASBOs is a thought too awful for me to contemplate.... New Year's Eve in 2023 was different, though.  Over the course of the year I had made two life-changing friendships: Doina, my Travel Wife and Svetlana, my Travel Girlfriend. Not only do they love to travel, but they can also put up with my rapier wit, love of adult-beverages, and shockingly small bladder.  They have chosen to find me charming. Desiring to leave the state of Pennsylvania, Doina and I had tossed around a number of locations to travel to for the holiday.  We considered New Orleans, Rio de Janeiro, Marrakech; but in the end we cast all of those warm and sunny locations aside and c...

Monaco (Canon P/Kodak Tmax400) I stood on the high-rise exterior deck of a rented apartment and looked out onto the Mediterranean Sea where a yacht was lazily sitting before the dawn sun.  I then looked down at the city below and realized; 'My God, I am in Monaco'. Not bad for someone going on six months of being unemployed...  Technically I wasn't IN Monaco, I was in Beausoleil, the French city that overlooks Monaco. I wasn't going to split hairs. As far as I am concerned, if you can step outside of your Airbnb and five minutes later be in the Casino Monte Carlo, you are staying in Monaco. Our 'ménage a trois of travelers' (Doina, Svetlana, and I) came in late the night before from Sanremo across the border in Italy.  We had a hilarious moment when Doina had to climb up the side of the apartment complex (she is very short) to retrieve the key fob for the parking garage.  It's always an adventure with us. We only stayed that night as we drove on to Nice the...

(Canon P/Ilford Delta 400) ‘Dolce far niente’ is an Italian expression which means ‘The sweetness of doing nothing’.  It goes hand in hand with ‘La Dolce Vita’, another expression meaning ‘The Sweet Life’.  On the surface it seems so simple: value a relaxed, peaceful state of living over material things. However, there are times when your ‘sweet life’ makes another’s not so sweet; I learned that first hand in Sanremo. When I downshifted the little red Fiat right before entering the tunnel which leads into the centre of Sanremo, I was living my ‘sweet life’. The tiny three cylinder engine howled at 6,000rpm and a smile came to my face.  Doina, my travel wife, laughed at me from the passenger seat.  Svetlana, my travel girlfriend, was sleeping in the back. ‘La Pigna’, Sanremo (Canon P/Ilford Delta 400) 45 minutes later I was NOT living the sweet life.  Not only had I had an incredibly vexing altercation with an Italian parking meter machine, I was now officially p...