In Search of Van Gogh (or “A Visit to the Kröller-Müller Museum”)

Ciao Readers (or for this post “Hallo”)!   Happy 2016!  I hope this post finds you and yours well and keeping warm this new year.

As you may recall, we were headed out in December to visit France, Belgium and the Netherlands.  While I have many more tales to tell (mostly involving food), I thought I’d start with our strangest adventure of the trip – a trek to the Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo, Netherlands. (As you may also recall, I love the art of Van Gogh and will go to great lengths to see it.)

To make a long story short, there once was a rich art patron, Helene Müller, who married another rich person, Anton Kröller, and between 1907 and 1922 she bought over 11,000 works of art (including numerous Van Goghs, Monets, Seurats, Picassos and countless others)!  Her collection of Van Goghs is second in number only to the actual Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam (more on that museum later).  She wanted to share her collection with the world, so she opened this museum in 1938, shortly before her death.  As you will see, while her intentions were good, she may not have thought out the practicalities of this whole “sharing” concept….

The museum is located in Hoge Veluwe Park, which is located in the middle of nowhere, about an hour train ride (then a bus ride, then a van ride) from Amsterdam.  While I understand the route may be a little easier on weekends, here’s what it took for us to get there during the week:

Step One – buy a round-trip train ticket from Amsterdam to Ede-Wageningen for about 27 euros each (we did this the day before with the help of a ticket agent as this is not a common train trip/stop).  The train takes you to a train and bus station in a very small town:

otterlobusstation2

Step 2: From this bus station you take the 108 to Otterlo (and the helpful driver sells you a roundtrip ticket for both this bus and the next for about 9 euros each), a trip taking about 20+ minutes and leaving you off literally in the middle of nowhere:

Otterlobus.vanstop

Step 3: At this point there should be a van arriving shortly or already waiting (we had read it was the “106 bus”, but it was literally this van with a piece of paper in the window with “106” written on it):

Otterlobus

Step 4: This van then takes you to the entrance of Hoge Veluwe Park, where it lets you out to pay the entrance fee to the park (9.15 euros each);  you apparently can also buy your ticket to the museum here, but we didn’t know and the lady selling the tickets didn’t volunteer that information.  After proceeding through the entrance, the van drops you off at this bus stop (and the driver assures you he returns once an hour to pick you back up across the street):

krollermullerbusstop

Step 5:  You walk about 5 minutes down this road to the museum (sorry, no photo of the museum, but fairly non-descript from the outside), where you then buy your ticket to the museum (another 9.15 euros each).  (There are free loaner bicycles throughout the park, so in nicer weather you could take advantage of those and spend part of the day bicycling as well).

Step 6: You stand there (mostly alone) with your mouth agape as you view MANY Van Goghs, including iconic famous ones, along with many other amazing works of art (all the while thinking how surreal and bizarre it is that these masterpieces are out here in the middle of nowhere):

Step 7: You remember what time the van driver said he comes back and you do the whole thing in reverse, feeling a certain sense of triumph, as if you have just succeeded in some medieval quest which has rewarded you with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see many great works of art.*

Thank you, dear readers, for coming on the quest!!!

*According to Wikepedia’s numbers, the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam gets about 5 times as many visitors per year (1.5 million) as this museum (300K+), but I have a hard time believing the numbers are even that close, as the Van Gogh Museum is ALWAYS packed and this one was almost empty.

 

Paris, afterward….before

Ciao Readers!  Happy Belated Turkey Day!

Yes, it has been quite a while.  Recently a friend and fellow blogger commented that I must not be blogging because I am busy at work. Honestly, while I am busy, I have just not been moved to write.  When we were living in Italy the posts just seemed to write themselves, now they come sporadically.  However, with our impending trip to Paris (and elsewhere) fast approaching, this post is writing itself (unfortunately for me, it decided to write itself at 1:00 in the morning).

For those of you that have followed this blog and our travels, you know that I love Paris. We’ve had a trip to France/Belgium/the Netherlands planned for almost a year now. Obviously, the pure joy and excitement building up to it took a turn on November 13th. Now, I hesitate to indulge my feelings about how such human tragedy personally affects my mindset going on a holiday trip  – it seems self-absorbed, putting it mildly.  But, in a way, the thoughts I have been experiencing connect me as an American to the larger world and the wide-ranging thoughts and emotions perhaps many of us share.

Since November 13th I have to admit feeling hesitant about our trip.  It’s (mostly) not fear that makes me hesitate; on any given day you are 7 times more likely to be murdered in Albuquerque than in Paris.   Honestly, it is mostly selfish id-centered thoughts of “this is going to harsh my buzz” (or, more apt, my joie de vivre). How can Paris possibly “feel” like Paris at this time?  One of my favorite things in Paris from our trip in 2008 was the Christmas Market along the Champs-Élysées.  It is wonderfully festive and charming – cute little Swiss chalets with all sorts of delicious foods and hand-crafted gifts, people strolling arm-in-arm…all blanketed by lights literally dripping from the trees all along the street….

Christmas-markets-Avenue-des-Champs-Elysées-|-850x540-|-©-OTCP-Amélie-Dupont-|-187-43_block_media_very_big

Earlier this week I found this picture of the market as it looks now:

Paris Market

Not quite as festive and charming, to say the least.

So, my first thoughts were that if this trip isn’t going to be all festivities and joy we shouldn’t go.  But then I started thinking about it from a different angle.  I remember what it was like to experience the primary between Hillary and Obama from Japan, and the election of Obama while in France.  While not exactly similar situations, there is something profound and incomparable about experiencing global history unfolding from someone else’s perspective.  Here at home almost everything I learn is through the very narrow filter of our media; everything I “know” about what it’s like to be in Paris (and Belgium) at this time is through the narrow lens of CNN or ABC footage. We’re watching Paris on t.v., and imagining what they are going through and how it feels to be there at this time in history, but to actually be there and feel how it feels will be a singularly enlightening experience.  And maybe this is my naiveté, but, while I never really felt this myself, any sentiments of “Ugh, American tourists,” may very well be replaced with “Yay, American tourists.”  I feel like being there will show our support – not just mine and Steve’s personally, but we as Americans.  What better statement of solidarity can we make than to go?   (If you want a professional traveler’s take on why Americans should not cancel upcoming trips to Paris, you can turn to trusty Rick Steves).

I have to admit, the preparation for this trip has taken a somewhat somber turn – in between reading French Yelp reviews of bistros in Rouen, I have updated our wills – morbid practicality and joyful excitement battling for control of my psyche.  There’s also a little Orwellian paranoia going on.  I have been wanting to understand more about the Middle East and Islam, a feeling intensified by our impending travels.  When I was curious about Western religions I read the Bible, so I was thinking I should read the Quran.  I then starting thinking that if I ordered one online right now we might end up on some list and have a hard time getting on our plane to Paris.  The weird thing is, I have no idea if that is a real possibility or a silly paranoid thought (I have decided to hedge my bets and wait until we get back from our trip).  Are we really in a collective head-space where earnest intellectual curiosity can be quashed by fear of Big Brother?  While these thoughts of Big Brother terrify me on the one hand, I have to admit I have thought many times that better intelligence (versus randomly searching little old ladies at the airport) is the short-term key to our safety.   Conflicted times for sure.

Honestly, I have no idea what this trip has in store, but I have a feeling it will be an enriching experience we will never forget.  And I am guessing several more blogs will write themselves (hopefully at more respectable hours).

Until then, dear Readers, I wish you all very Happy Holidays.  I look forward to chatting in the new year!

Hawaii on My Mind (a photo anthology)

Ciao Readers!  Or, more appropriately – “Aloha!”

Today I am taking you on a trip to Hawaii – Maui, to be precise.   Have I mentioned that I LOVE Hawaii?!?!?  Long before I ever stepped foot in Italy or any other country, there was Hawaii (fun fact – I actually used to have a website called “missinghawaii.com”!).  While I’ll take a trip abroad any day, Hawaii keeps calling me back – there’s just something about it – the aloha spirit, the sound of waves crashing on the shore, the seafood (yum!).  I can’t help but be in a happy, relaxed frame of mind when I’m in Hawaii; I’ve noticed it’s the only place we travel where I’m never “ready to go home” (which I usually am after awhile anywhere else).  Anyway, instead of more rambling, enjoy the beauty of the ocean, the marine life, and the rainbows – as seen last week….

Being a Brit in New Mexico

Ciao Readers!
Our niece from England recently visited, and here is her “guest blog” – enjoy!

The Best Truffle Festival EVER!!! (In San Miniato)

Ciao Readers!

I have to admit, I’ve been hard-pressed for inspiration for a new blog post since my gallbladder removal. Some of the rejected ideas I’ve had include “Gallbladders and Other Extraneous Organs,” “The View from My Couch (a photo anthology),” and “Chicken Broth and Other Boring Recipes.” However, as I recover I am thinking about Italy (no surprise), how I can get back there this Fall, and if I can time it to coincide with the “Best Truffle Festival Ever.” So, please come along and reminisce with me about the wonderful truffle festival held every November in a nifty little Tuscan town….

Newmexicotoitaly's avatarNew Mexico to Italy

Ciao Readers!

Okay, my mouth is watering just reminiscing about this festival and I am still smiling thinking about the fabulous little town it was in – San Miniato.  Apparently for the last 3 weekends of November every year for the past 42 years this little town has had the largest truffle festival in all of Tuscany (truffles as in fungi, not chocolate, though there was some of that as well).  It was so much fun (and soooooo delicious [if you like truffles])!

Now, for those of you paying extra close attention, you may remember that San Miniato is the name of the church on the top of the hill overlooking Florence (and supposedly where San Miniato brought his severed head).  Contrary to what I first thought, this is not where the festival was – there is actually a separate town (requiring a 40 minute train ride, then a bus…

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What’s in a Name? (or the tale of two “Las Vegas Suites”)

Ciao Readers!

I think I’ve mentioned more than once that we took a road trip over Spring Break.  We started off in Las Vegas, splurging with a great AAA rate for 2 nights at the Bellagio (I’ve always wanted to stay there).  When I was checking us in, the concierge asked if we were there celebrating anything special, to which I responded (honestly), “Yes, our 24th Anniversary” (yes readers, you read that right, and THANK YOU, I do look too young). The nice young woman then disappeared for a few minutes and returned with the keys, telling us we had been complimentarily upgraded to a “suite.” Pretty cool, huh?!  We didn’t know what “suite” meant till we got to the room – almost 1600 sf, 2 bathrooms, a living room, dining area and bar (pictured below).  Now that’s a Las Vegas Suite!!!

Fast-forward a week to the last day of our road trip, heading back from California through Arizona.  We had not made hotel reservations as we were playing the last part of our trip by ear and wasn’t sure how far we (i.e. Steve) would drive that night.  It looked like if we pushed it, but not unreasonably, we could get to Flagstaff, AZ, so I got on my trusty ipad and started trying to find accommodations.   I guess I didn’t really think Flagstaff, AZ would be such a  popular place for Spring Break (aren’t you supposed to go to Cancun or South Padre Island?!), but most of the hotels were booked.  I did find a couple of rooms, but seriously – 189$ for a so-so rated Days Inn?!?!?!?  (for the record that’s more than our deluxe suite at the Bellagio).  So, I did a quick recalculation and started trying to find not-too-scary motels in outlying towns.  Which brings us to the phone conversation with the Canyon Lodge in Seligman, AZ:

Me:  Hello!  Do you have any rooms available for tonight?

Man with HEAVY GERMAN ACCENT (Reinhardt) speaking curtly and directly (read “military-like”):  Do you smoke?

Me: No Sir. (“Sir” is an old habit from living in Texas and going to Texas A&M)

Reinhardt: Are you sure?

Me: Yes Sir.

Reinhardt:  Do you have pets?

Me (assuming he meant with us and not in general): No Sir.

Reinhardt: Are you sure?

Me: Yes.

Reinhardt: Yes, I have one room.  60 dollars.  When will you be here?

Me (very concerned at what 60$ buys after hearing 189$ for a Days Inn):  We’re driving there now, we should be there in about 3 hours.

Reinhardt:  You must arrive before 10:00.  I close the office at 10:00.  No smoking and no pets.

Me: We’ll be there by 9:00 at the latest, thank you very much!!!

I will save you all from re-hearing this same conversation, which took place again once we got to the motel.  (The ridiculous thing was that right outside our room was a smokers’ patio, complete with ashtrays and interesting looking characters smoking away.) The next part was hysterical – Reinhardt explained he actually had two rooms left, the “Grand Canyon” theme room and the “Las Vegas Honeymoon Suite” (apparently every room has a theme).  He then proceeded to show me a slide show of all of the rooms, while all I could think was I am really tired and really don’t want to be forced to make any more small talk (I already dodged the question about my German last name and refrained from wishing him a happy first night of Passover).  So I said, “I see you already have a key in your hand so I’ll take the room you chose.”  He said, with a sly grin (as much as someone with his accent and demeanor could muster) that it was the “Las Vegas Honeymoon Suite” and he was “certain you will enjoy it very much.”

OMG!!!  First of all, the “Las Vegas Honeymoon Suite” was right above his office. Coincidence? I think not.  We could hear his phone ring and we could hear the conversations – you can do the math in reverse.  EWWWWWW.  As if that was not enough discouragement from “enjoying” the room, the room itself was beyond indescribably aesthetically assaultive.  The Las Vegas-y things were cheesy puzzles of Las Vegas glued together and hung on the walls, along with gaudy decor and an entire mirrored wall.  I’m sorry I didn’t take better photos of the cheesiness, but we were tired (fortunately tripadvisor was correct about the rooms seeming clean) and I didn’t know I was starting my blog back up yet.

So there you have it, a book-end of “Las Vegas Suites”:

 

 

Once Upon a Passport (with never-before seen photos)

Ciao Readers!

Today I am going to wax nostalgic, so your indulgence is required (and appreciated).  As we were planning for our Winter 2015/2016 trip to Europe it dawned on me that my passport might expire before then.  I checked, and sure enough it was getting close – can you imagine going to the airport for a year-long awaited trip to discover your passport was no good?!?!?!  Egad!  In any case, renewing my passport (and looking through the nifty stamps in the old one) made me think about and marvel at everything we have seen and done (and eaten) in the past 10 years.

Ten years ago I did not have a passport; I had never seen a major work of art; I couldn’t have found Slovenia on a map to save my life.  It kinda blows my mind thinking about everything I’ve experienced since then….

Some things I have seen:  The Mona Lisa, The Sistine Chapel, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, Stonehenge, Michelangelo’s David, hundreds of works by Van Gogh, the world’s largest indoor Buddha, The Colosseum, Pompeii, Notre Dame and a thousand less-famous but spectacular monuments, churches and works of art.

Some things I have done: Run a 10K around a lake by Mt. Fuji in Japan, taken not one, but two cooking courses at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, marveled at Gaudí and Dalí works in Spain, been left stranded by an ornery bus driver in Croatia, ran into a family of bears hiking Mt. Koyasan, had a line in a movie, climbed the Eiffel Tower, marveled at Venice, discovered cool Slovenia, was stood-up by Green Day in Bologna, saw two versions of Hedwig and the Angry Inch on Broadway, ran my first (and 2nd – 7th) half marathons, carried cats across the ocean in the cabins of planes….and lived in Italy!

Some things I have eaten: deliciously stinky cheese in France (and amazing breads, and pastries, and….), succulent roasted pig in Croatia, spicy (yay!) Sri Lankin food in Florence, weird and wonderful octopus balls (takoyaki) all over Japan (and all-you-can-stand sushi for 3 months!), frites and herring in Amsterdam, divine Belgium chocolates (in Belgium of course!), everything I cooked at Le Cordon Bleu (Steve specially enjoyed this), the official world’s best gelato in Bologna and enough pizza to feed an Italian army!

Since I’m not getting any younger (who is?), it makes me happy to realize that most of the coolest things I have done, achieved, experienced, etc. have happened after age 30, even more-so after age 40.  So, as you read this and I recover from having my gallbladder out, let’s reminisce and know that there’s more to come!  Thanks for reading!

(Mostly) Never-before-seen photos: