With only 2 nights remaining until our return back to the States, we officially focused our sights on the final destination of our 14-day journey. A destination, which in hindsight, we probably would have avoided at all costs, knowing that it would be an absolute “f*ck of all clusters” to visit during our travel date window. However, at the time of booking our flight, over 6 months prior, we were completely oblivious to the fact that we would be departing Europe from the same location which would soon play host to over 11.3 million visitors in a period of just three weeks. (And to be completely honest, if we had known, we probably wouldn’t have changed a thing, since we somehow managed to find a $300/person direct flight from Paris to Detroit, in the midst of the busiest European travel season in history. The only way I’m NOT taking advantage of that is if it's a Spirit-operated flight, on a "hidden exit door" Boeing airplane, connecting overnight in Pyongyang, full of Karens) Now, while we definitely aren’t strangers to adventuring during peak travel season (it’s unfortunately unavoidable when you are confined to this damn school calendar), we had yet to experience a city, known for tourism, essentially shut itself off to exactly that. Dozens of major sights, closed to the general public. Hundred of miles of fencing, unnecessarily emphasizing the prior point. Thousands of beret-adorned police officers, promoting awareness of said fencing. And of course, millions of visitors, collectively doing this. That was our experience in what is commonly known as the City of Lights, or for those Hallmark Movie of the Week fans out there, the City of Love. But to us, Paris, France, was solely the City of the 2024 Summer Olympics. And for all-intensive purposes, not the City for us. Let me explain. Actually, better yet, instead of having a good ole fashioned grumble grumble session, let’s take the opportunity to create the “tourism pamphlet” which Paris SHOULD HAVE created for their Olympic festivities. One that would have thoroughly prepared 11.2 million disappointed visitors (i.e. the non 1 %ers that is), who were left in a state of complete limbo upon arrival. As no amount of pre-trip research (and trust me, it’s one of my non-excel-based fortes), could have prepared anyone for what “feet on the ground” would actually be like. And thus, I present: The Official Guide to Visiting Paris During the 2024 Olympics:
Frequently Asked Questions:
Onto the fence-heavy pics: Next Stop: Back to Reality (aka the good ole U S of A). See y'all on the next blog!
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After another uneventful, UNO-filled voyage across what are essentially “cultural borders,” the 3-hour train ride from Cologne, Germany brought us to the capital of the neighboring (and slightly more personable) country of Belgium -- Brussels. Or, if you happen to be an avid fan of geopolitical conventions, the headquarters to them all:
Now, since our short “train layover” did not involve promoting peace, equality or consistent ocean currents, we instead opted to spend the few hours we had in Brussels on a quick “walking tour” of the main sights. From peeing statues to historical squares. Centuries-old churches to even older museum-based relics. And of course, on every single corner, of every single cobble-stone-paved road, a waffle shop. Taunting, tempting and toying with our children’s recently developed, crack-like addiction to sugar. So, all-in-all, a very solid introduction to the ensuing destination on our itinerary, 30 minutes to the north, in the city of Bruges. As the capital of West Flanders (i.e. which disappointedly lacks any Leftorium shops), Bruges is home to just over 100,000 people, spread throughout one of the few cities virtually untouched by the effects of warfare during the 1940s. But not, as we soon learned, untouched by tourism. With over 8 million visitors (plus the four of us) visiting each year, the quiet streets and narrow alleyways of this delightful city, essentially turn into a clusterf*ck of clusterf*ckness (trademark pending). Coffee shops without an open table in sight. Hotel vacancies occurring only in the dead of winter. Sidewalks officially re-designated as "selfie zones." But why, you may ask, is such a small town, such a prominent “pin” on the notorious travel map? Firstly, thank you for the helpful segue! Secondly, while Bruges has always had a place in the heart of Rick Steves and other I-actually-get-paid-to-write-about-travel authors (deep sigh), it didn’t gain notoriety until 2008, when the namesake film “In Bruges” was released to the delight of film goers worldwide, and the absolute horror of those who called Bruges their home. Depicting this centuries old city as essentially a “hellish delight of charm,” our personal experience could not have more accruately reflected this depiction. Flower-adorned canals, colorful architecture, luscious green parks. It’s as if Bob Ross hacked the Sim City code, and built a fairytale land made solely out of rainbows and sunshine. Or in other words, charming as hell. Onto the highlights:
Onto the pics: Next Stop: Paris
Departing from the vertically-enhanced city of Amsterdam, we boarded our first European long-distance train, destined for the never-before-visited ancestral homeland of my dearest wife, Julie Lebensabschnittsgefährte Moehlig. With a plethora of potential Deutschland-based destinations from which to choose, we strayed from the more well-known Berlins & Munichs, opting instead for the small & charming city of Cochem -- A town of only 5,000 inhabitants, located along the picturesque, and retirement-inspiring Moselle River. Now, as Cochem is most commonly visited by those counting down their final hospice-free days on the infamously-popular Viking River Cruises, we opted for a less geriatric means of transportation, renting a slightly-used Dacia (?) from the nearby city of Cologne – The surprising birthplace for generations of pleasantly-smelling-but-slightly-machismo men. Despite a minor hiccup upon arrival (i.e. Europcar office at train station deciding that 3:30PM is a normal time to close… on a weekday), we were off for 3 nights in what, looking back, I can only equate to a town designed by the exact person responsible for the Germany Pavilion at the Epcot World Showcase. Flower-adorned buildings, constructed in the most quintessential German architectural style (i.e. an unnecessary amount of wood accenting). Every sign, notice & other means of written communication, all transcribed in the same classic German cursive font. Beer gardens, flowing with over-sized glasses of golden nectar (i.e. a needless way to promote one’s thesaurus skills when describing beer). All of which, set beneath the looming shadows of a hill-top castle, towering above the horizon. So basically, the quaintest darn town you’ve ever seen. (On a more tangential note, while we did enjoy our time in Cochem, I do wish we had visited a more well-known destination. As each and everytime someone would inquire on the location of our travels, we would be forced to mention “London, Amsterdam, a small town in Germany you probably have never heard of, Bruges & Paris.” First-world problem? For sure. But a problem nonetheless) I digress, onto the highlights: Cochem (The Town) – Despite bringing the average age of Cochem down to a more-reasonable figure of 78, it was hard not to enjoy the “downtime” we experienced in a village best explored with two hands clasped behinds one’s back, traveling at a speed so slow, one would think time itself had come to a halt. Which, to be honest, is probably not too far away for most of the 5,000 residents of the German equivalent of Sandpiper Crossing. (Sincere apologies to my blog followers in the “above-the-age-of-70” category) The Castles – Apparently if you were born prior to the industrial age, and happened to have a bit of “family money,” the only way to spend said “dough” was on a home that literally defined the phrase “over the top.” Countless rooms, each dedicated to their own pre-WiFi/pre-TV function (my favorite of which, being of course, the toilet room -- aka, an empty room with a hole in the floor). Priceless works of art, scattered throughout the endless damp and plague-infested halls. Enough 1,000 pound doors to require your own on-retainer hinge maker. And yet, they still had to wipe their asses with corn cobs. Oh the irony. Luxembourg “Day Trip” – When you are 90 minutes away from another country, one that you quite possibly will never visit in your lifetime, you go to that country. And spend 5 minutes admiring the tiny portion that you found on Google Maps. After which, you head back to your still-sleeping-because-its-6:30AM-family. #checklisttraveler Now, since this particular post has been a bit of a struggle to compose, I felt we could spice things up a bit, by adding a fun “lowlight” section to the mix. Cause, let’s be honest, it’s Germany: The Emotionless German – Imagine walking down a road, completely naked, food stuck in your teeth, while riding a unicycle. And that, would be how 99.9% of the Germans we encountered viewed us during our 2-days/3-nights in Cochem. Staring at our family, in a state of utter confusion. Yet, a confusion that lacked emotion, feeling or any semblance of, well, anything. It was weird. We did not enjoy this aspect. What I would have done for a simple head nod. Or to be completely honest, even an overly-aggressive creepy Italian guy would have sufficed. The Food – While failing to produce any semblance of an emotional repertoire, it does appear that Germany also apparently whiffed when coming up with its own culinary identity. With neighbors such as France & Italy literally owning the Michelin Guide to Restaurants & Equally High-Quality Tire Shops, Germany decided that Bratwurst and Potato Salad would be their path to worldly accolades? I guess the automobile truly encapsulated their entire focus. Our Airbnb – After several, less-than-ideal Airbnbs in both London and Amsterdam, we opted for a slightly higher-quality means of accommodation (i.e. not the 2nd cheapest place available). Which, despite appearing very nice, was a little lacking in the “attention-to-detail” department:
Despite the various highlights (and lowlights), the most memorable part of our visit, was by far the German castle tour guide, attempting to over-simplify the world’s reaction to Germany’s attempt, to, well, take it over. “During the war, the Allies believed Cochem to be home to a weapons plant manufacturer. And thus, destroyed about 60% of the city. Even though no weapons were even manufactured here. Thus, they bombed the city for no reason whatsoever. So silly. Why bomb the city for no reason?” I’m pretty sure there were a few reasons. Onto the pics: Next Stop: Bruges
With a reputation for sex, drugs & any other vice one could envision in a post-sex/drug-induced state, Amsterdam has been on the bucket list of every Glenn Quagmire-esque tourist for decades. Entire neighborhoods dedicated to legalized prostitution. Cannabis shops (aka "coffee shops") on every other corner. Shifty-eyed pick-pockets preying on those who do not appreciate the long-term possession of their valuables. And of course, "underground theaters," where you can literally watch another couple "bumps uglies" in all their glory. Based on this alone, one could come to the conclusion that Amsterdam probably isn't the best place to which to travel with a family of young, relatively-innocent, children. However, thanks to a recent campaign to help restore Amsterdam to its original reputation as the "The Venice of The North," this Dutch city of over 900K people (as well as the equivalent number of requisite bicycles), has started to clean-up its "worldly" standing, primary by promoting itself as a destination for those seeking arts, culture & a wide selection of non-sexually-focused entertainment (e.g. visiting a theater with more "clothed" performers). And in doing so, has more or less declared the city off-limits to an entire population of those that still live in their parents basement, looking for an excuse to re-enact The Purge every other weekend (No offense, of course, to millennials -- Y'all just picked a terrible time to be born). Now, aside from its previously-discussed "seedy" reputation, Amsterdam, as well as the entirety of the Netherlands, is known for possessing a populace of "great stature." A fun fact for our family, who's vertical limits will most likely never surpass the 5'6" mark (which, for what its worth, would've been quite tall if we were born in the 18th century... or according to the previously-linked URL, lived in Timor-Leste. We'd be giants I tell you, Timorian giants!!). Unfortunately, this is 2024, and well, we definitely did not pick a destination "compatible" with our vertical deficiencies. For example:
Despite the struggles we encountered as it related to our lower-than-average center of gravity, our 4 days in Amsterdam were filled with unique & entertaining activities, amazing arts & architecture, and some of the most delicious pancakes Betty Crocker could ever hope to put out onto the shelves of your local Albert Heijn (aw yeah local Amsterdam reference for the one person who might possibly get it). Honestly, we were all pleasantly surprised by, well, how pleasant Amsterdam truly was. Consider it officially add to the list of places to which we can relocate in the event of the next civil war. Onto the highlights of our visit:
Onto the pics: Next Stop: Cochem, Germany
With over 20 years having passed since our last excursion to the colony-collecting capital of the world, it seemed inevitable that our families first trip across the Atlantic (at least, the non-aligned-with-Africa, Atlantic) would land us smack dab in the home of everyone's favorite broom-yielding wizard: This Guy Oh yes, and also Harry. Totally also meant to include Harry. You know, the kid envied by parents around the world, due to his innate and "magical" ability to embody the most well-behaved child in the history of DNA-reproduction (despite living with parents most CPS agents could only dream of encountering). Yes, him. #parentgoals (As I can already envision Julie rolling her eyes at this specific point of our traditional "pre-read," I'll try to move things along a bit quicker): Day 1 - The 30-Hour Day of Sleepless Jello Legs After a relatively uneventful 7 1/2 hour flight from Detroit (if of course you ignore the young girl across the aisle who impressively managed to cough for 97% of our journey without being offered a single sip of water from either unconcerned parent), we landed "across the pond" in the city that prides itself on tea, as well as properly waiting in line, for tea: London, England. Having purchased a flight that arrived a solid 9 hours before our Airbnbs mid-afternoon check-in, we decided to embark on a day of exploration, encompassing great aspirations that the jet-lag from our sleepless flight would not significantly impact our ability to "keep to the left" when navigating the jolly-but-definitely-not-jolly-if-you-don't-follow-the-damn-rules, streets of London. (NOTE: The Ontario-based version is much more amenable to "sidewalk confusion"). With both Julie and I having visited the city in prior travels (i.e. more 16-bed dorm rooms, less offspring), we decided to complete a Cliffsnote verion of the various "can't miss" highlights which our Instagram had been involuntarily force-feeding us over the last few weeks. On about 45-50 minutes of sleep. All while exuding a slight "odor" that can only be obtained on select red-eye flights. What could possibly go wrong?
Thus, with our tour of "lofty expectations" cut, expectingly short, we once again descended beneath the streets of London for our 37th tube trip of the day. Departing for the homey-but-not-really-homey-at-all confines of our Airbnb, with a classic grocery-store-purchased British meal of curry-a-la-rice in-hand, our wearisome bodies had just enough energy to last past the 5PM mark, before, as they say, "passing the F out." Day 2 - Julie Finds Her Non-Seattle-Based Nirvana After a much-needed fourteen hours of slumber (if of course you ignore the brief, time-zone-inspired "reverse nap" from 1am-3pm), our bodies were officially refueled enough to partake in the climax experience of our European adventure (at least, according to those lacking a Y chromosone within this family). An activity that is apparently so captivating, it has managed to earn a 5-star rating on TripAdvisor from over 38,000 people! (in a completely-comparable contrast, a mildly-reputable London-esque double decker bus tour of Austin only gets 235). And while I still haven't come to terms with how a school-aged boy with poor eyesight, whose greatest accomplishment primarily involves laying in his crib during a classic "stranger danger" moment, won the heart of my wife... well, what can ya do? I guess buy her tickets to a tour of the studio where all 8 movies were filmed? #winningmorethancharliesheen Thus, with fan-girl fully-activated, we departed for the infamous Leavesden Studios in Watford, England, ready to immerse ourselves in 3-4 hours of everything and anything Harry Potter. Studio sets, props, costumes, masks, slightly-overpriced butter beer. A world within a world, that only those who can properly enunciate "wingardium leviosa" can truly appreciate for all its grandeur (HINT: It's levi-oh-SAH... stupid ginger Ron). Nonetheless, the experience officially surpassed the heights of Julie's Top 5 list (sorry birth of kids, wedding, honeymoon). The rest of us? A few less-dramatic after-thoughts: Me - "I still am struggling to figure out after who J.K. Rowling emulated the goblins of Gringotts bank? Something about them seems so familiar to me... short stature, long noses, a general fondness of money. I guess we'll never know? Luckily she doesn't have a reputation for controversy!" Lincoln - "I'm hungry" Finn - "I'm hungry" (we definitely are fully invested in emulating our older brother at this current moment in our lives. And food. Food all the flipping time) Day 2 1/2 - Valuable Lessons Have Been Learned With the wizarding aspect of our trip in the rear-view mirror, and the lingering effects of jet-leg surprinsingly reaping incredible parental rewards (9:30AM wake-up!), we arose for our final 1/2 day in London, in hopes of one last tour of the cities sights. Queue Finn. Finn: "Hold my beer" Now, a funny thing that our youngest child learned this trip, is that when you are on a form of public transportation, utilized by thousands of people each and everyday, it probably is not a good idea to take an ice-cream-esque lick of the "hand pole," as you are all-but-ensured to attain enough germs to take down the likes of Osmosis Jones (sorry, we're in that phase of parenting right now). Nonetheless, 18 hours later, with Finn's stomach starting to defy gravity (i.e. food no longer traveling in the downwards direction), and our flight to Amsterdam departing in less than 6 hours, and well, we have officially entered "panic mode." Something that we obviously handled in an extremely calm and totally relaxed manner, especially when navigating the various sub-optimal choices available to us at the time: Option #1 (Nixed) = Stay in London until vomiting ceases. Issues with proposed option:
Option #2 (Nixed) = Skip the flight, find a train. Potential issues:
Option #3 (Reluctantly Accepted) = F*ck it, we have doggy bags, let's hope for the best. Potential issues:
Add to that, Lincoln deciding this was the appropriate time to voice his boredom with our extended decision-making process (dude, read the room), and it's safe to say, we weren't exuding a whole lot of positivity at this point in time. Thankfully, with our Airbnb host providing us a highly-needed extended check-out time, Lincoln and I departed our adhoc quarantine zone for a quick visit to the British Museum. In hopes that Finn could "sleep off" whatever small box / plague / menengitis / chlamydia he had ingested 18 hours prior. While myself and our non-porcelein-hugging child, explored one of the greatest collections of ancient antiquities in the world. With the 27 minutes which our travels scheduled allowed for us. Several hours later, with the deadline to our departure nearing, queue Apppriorately-URL'd Video. Don't ask us how, don't inquire as to what deeds of good karma we have realized as of late, but the regurgitation gods were on our side this morning, with Finn miraculously declaring "I feel better" mere hours after his last "purge." And our, hopefully only potential disaster of the trip, officially averted. Onto Amsterdam. Onto the pics: Next Stop: Amsterdam
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