2022NethBelgiumFranceSpainPortugalHeverly

  Blog 07-25-22 Monday Ponta Delgada, Azores I spent a couple days in Porto on the north coast of Portugal. While I was there the temperature in England set records, first time over forty degrees I think I read. As a result, I assume, Porto, where it was in the mid twenties (low seventies Fahrenheit) was full of Brits. There were also scads of other tourists. The place was packed.  I can’t explain why I didn’t find Porto interesting. My pension was comfortable. The weather was great, especially after the oven in Bilbao. The extremely-hilly streets were narrow and touristic. There was no reason not to be delighted with the city. But I wasn’t. I bought some gifts. I had a couple nice meals. And I left. 

  Blog 07-25-22 Monday Ponta Delgada, Azores If you’re lucky you get two sublime experiences on any trip.  I arrived at the main Lisbon bus station on a hot Friday afternoon. The station is a somewhat shabby, almost-shadeless expanse of concrete in the northeast corner of the city. My heavy backpack (I’d bought some gifts in Porto that added new weight) made my lower back ache a bit, and my smaller backpack (which I wore in front of me) tugged at my throat enough to be uncomfortable. I carried a thin cardboard container that housed a painting I’d bought as a gift. Altogether I was very eager to reach the LX Hostel down near the Tagus River that gives Lisbon it’s raison d’etre.  My Google directions to my hostel were encouraging — just walk a bit to the Metro Station nearby. Naturally I couldn’t find it for a few minutes until I realized the stop was beneath me, down two sets of stairs, thence to an expansive hall obviously intended to accommodate a sizable crowd of people...

  Blog 07-18-22 Monday Bilbao Bilbao I left the (air-conditioned) hostel at 10:30 last night. The street thermometer said 45 degrees (113 degrees F). I almost believed it, but three other such indicators read 41 degrees (105.8 F), more believable.  I tried to beat the heat by getting out early today. At 8:30 it was 29 degrees (84.2 F) but by 11:30 it was well over 100 degrees. I gave up and retired to my hostel for the rest of the day. For three days it’s been like this, pushing 110 F at its peak, never below the mid 80’s. Walking drained me in minutes.  Thus I have failed at being the tourist in Bilbao. I did get to the Guggenheim, which has a story to tell that is crucial to the city’s history.  This is Basque country, a place that celebrates its resentment toward the Spanish. Like Scotland and Quebec and numerous other domains around the world this region has carved out a measure of independence from the central authority. Madrid, smartly, has kept a light hand o...

  Blog 07-16-22 Bilbao, Saturday Bordeaux is, undoubtedly, one of the most beautiful cities on earth. Much of it was built of local stone more than 700 years ago, but the real story begins in the 1970´s. The place was inundated with automobiles, crowding every available space. The river, The Garonne, was bordered by ugly warehouses that denied access to the public.  the bike tour The city leaders made the hard decision to invest in a rework of the entire metropolis. The warehouses were torn down, giving the river back to the citizenry. Tram lines were constructed to all corners of the area and cars were banned from many of the city streets. In places where cars could still travel the roads were narrowed to mostly one lane. Traffic slowing measures were instituted on most avenues. They even mandated that all property owners clean the outsides of their buildings. {Itś interesting to observe a few holdouts within the city. A handful of owners refused to comply and their blackened...

  Blog 07-11-22 Monday Hot in Bordeaux Montauban In Paris I searched for a suitable Airbnb in my next desired stop, Bordeaux.  In my strange world Bordeaux has historical significance. In May of 1940 the French government fled Paris, one step ahead of the advancing Nazi juggernaut. The Prime Minister, Reynaud, had taken the reins from the dishonored Daladier, who had tried to buy peace from Hitler at Munich. Now France was beaten, her armies on the run from the panzers. The Prime Minister and his cabinet (including Daladier!) crept down the overburdened (with refugees) highway to Bordeaux in the South Atlantic corner of the Republic. Unfortunately the effete Reynaud had a nazi-sympathizing mistress who helped confirm his worst instincts. Ultimately the government was ceded to the crypto-fascist World War I general, Petain, who made a deal with the Germans to turn France into a Nazi client state, centered in the small southern city of Vichy.  Which is why I wanted to spend...

  I liked the paintings of Shirley Jaffe, a post WWII American woman on display at the Pompidou. Paris: The Louvre The constant struggle I have with traveling is whether to ‘be’ the tourist and see as many sites as possible; or to treat these cities as just stopping places where I can read and rest and experience life, the little of it I have left. I’m dissatisfied with what I have done so far in this city, but I suspect I would feel the same way no matter what choices I made. I haven’t read nearly enough. I haven’t relaxed nearly enough. I’ve walked and walked and walked, trying to take in the notable places fearful that when I return home everyone will be disappointed because I missed one or another ‘must see’ sites.  I did go to the Pompidou Museum, famous for its modern art. I was mystified by most of what I saw except for the first third of the exhibits that centered on 1900-1930 or so. Why is 1900 ‘modern’? I went to the outside of the Louvre but haven’t gone inside, and...