The Andrews Adventure

In October, my siblings came for a visit. This is a belated attempt to document that trip (although my sister has done it much better justice in an awesome photobook). Here goes:

Voila ma soeur Kiernan, mon frère Marshall, et ma belle-soeur Lauren.

Fortunately, it worked out that everyone arrived in Brussels within about an hour of each other (unfortunately, this was due to a mega flight delay for Marsh and Lauren, who also arrived about 36 hours before their baggage). Already in Belgium, we naturally we fought jet-lag by driving directly to one of our absolute favorite places in Europe: Bruges!

In Bruges, we feasted on the storybook setting--it is a town of cathedrals, canals, and cafes--as well as waffles, chocolate, and Flemish stew. I can't express how underrated this little town is.

Above: The Eye of Sauron cloche (bell-tower).

Below: Fairy-tale bridge to Snow White's cottage (this makes me feel giddy every time I see it)

Our appetites whetted (and then some), we decided to climb the city's Belfort, accompanied by no fewer than an entire school's worth of kids on field trip. There are 366 steps (Lauren swore it was 666) up a rapidly-narrowing spiral staircase, but the top presented both a carillon concert and stunning view of the ovate medieval city and its surrounding area--a view that once merited Longfellow's poem "The Belfry of Bruges":

In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town. As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood. Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray, Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay. At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air. Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour, But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower. From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows wild and high; And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed more distant than the sky...

After the exertion of bell-tower revelry, we opted for more leisurely sight-seeing via canal boat tour. The sun was warm, the sky was clear, and cruising in a flat-bottomed boat makes it feel like a real-life Disney ride.

On our way back home, we stopped for dinner and a quick stroll at Ghent, which definitely merits more exploring. And then it was off to the home-sweet-home of Luxembourg.

I was carefully rationing vacation days, so I had to go in to work, but the fam stopped by our favorite little picnic spot for lunch before visiting the casemates and grand ducal palace (even in English, Lux sounds foreign.)

Lauren and Marshall had brought a suitcase full of precious American goods with them, and we put them to good use in celebrating Marsh and my 68th birthday. Yes, that is Funfetti cake with Rainbow Chip frosting, and yes, Marshall is blowing spittle on it. I love him.

The next day, we took a all-day tour of Germany to commemorate the Day of German Unity (okay, that part was unplanned, but a nice coincidence).

We started with a walk in the woods...

To Burg Eltz! Still the most excellent castle around, IMHO. While at the Burg, we took a tour, tons of pictures, and an oath to see more castles before the day was through.

Still jet-lagged.

Up next was a drive through the Romantic Rhine, with the premier stop at Rhinefels Castle, which is like a giant playground for medieval nerds like us. We climbed in, on, and around the ruins, locked each other in the stocks, braved pitch-black tunnels (with the scariest spider I have ever encountered), and generally claimed the place as our own.

Above: A troupe of jesters

Below: The fiefdom

Above: Behold, the majesty!

Below: Selfie-stick!!!

We stopped briefly in Bacharach for some cobbled, half-timbered strolling to stretch our legs before what unexpectedly became the longest leg of the trip: the quest to find dinner.

We had planned to stop in Bernkastel-Kues on the way home, but road closures, nay demolitions, barred the way. After at least a half-dozen re-routes, as many minor tantrums, and one small deviation through a construction site, we were just trying to get home in ANY WAY POSSIBLE, when out of the descending mists appeared the best restaurant experience of our time in Europe.

In one of the many non-descript towns that run alongside the Moselle River, we discovered this charming little place housed in an old mill, where the owners knew everyone that came through the door (except this bunch of half-starved Americans). An older gentleman played German standards on a even older upright piano, and the atmosphere was warm and homey. We ordered schnitzel, pig cheeks, and a fish pulled directly from a pond inside the restaurant (this was a delight for Lauren, who loves to gloat at things she is about to eat.) It was a traditional European meal, meaning that we were there for at least two hours before paying the bill, tipping our hats, and finally making it home. I've considered going back on several occasions, but I'm not sure anything could live up to that night--the succession of feeling desperate, surprised, then delighted made this a Brigadoon-experience.

The whirlwind pace continued, and the next day we were off to France. (That's four countries in four days, for those of you keeping track at home.) We wandered through the quaint streets of Rodemack and discovered a baguette vending machine (!) before making the drive to Paris.

Above: Hey, hey the gang's all here

Below: Bringing the pain

Getting to our Paris AirBnB was a bit of an adventure, as the normally-terrible traffic of central Paris was compounded by police barricades cordoning off at political demonstrations. Try as I might, I couldn't avoid the congestion, and had a tense minute of driving through a round-about where a large crowd of people had gathered, with masked demonstrators climbing the central statue, waving flags and chanting protests at a squad of armored policier. Fortunately, we arrived safely, parked the car, and did not touch it until we left Paris.

That first night we climbed Monmartre for crepes and the Sacre-Couer, which I found very moving (the church, not the crepes, although those were good too). The basilica prides itself on never closing, and a late-night wander and wonder through the nave served to shake off the earlier stresses of the day. I especially loved the enormous mosiac on the ceiling dedicated “To the Sacred Heart of Jesus, France fervent, penitent and grateful,” with this last word added after the First World War. No pictures, of course, because church.

La Ville Lumière, The City of Light

My genius sister had contracted a skip-the-line tour of the Eiffel Tower the next morning. Our charismatic guide taught us about M. Eiffel's tour, warned us about the many pickpockets and their techniques, and swept us past the gathering crowds and up, up, up to the roof of Paris.

By the time we were back on terra firma, it was dumping rain (le sigh), but we took the opportunity to visit the Louvre. It was late in the day, and we only had a few hours; Marsh and Lauren took the challenge of seeing as many of the museum's treasures as possible, while Kier, Star, and I took a more relaxed approach.

Above: When life hands you lemons, learn to dance in the rain like nobody's watching and carry on

Below: That exquisite smile, winged victory, admiring the selfie statuary

Below: Sphinx and Sphincter

On our last day in Paris, we paid our respects to Our Lady. The world's most famous Gothic cathedral, with its rose window, gargoyles, and Where's Waldo approach to statuary, did not disappoint. Again, no interior pictures, because church.

Margoyle

Marsh and Lauren locked their hearts on the bridge behind the cathedral, and we crossed the river over to the Latin Quarter for some cuisine française. After deliberating between the myriad of eateries, we picked one with a good menu (and was also immediately across the street from a macaron boutique). To clarify: by good menu, I mean: ESCARGOT! When in France, right? Our waiter delivered the tray and stood back to observe. Lauren went first, and picked up her snail with the special snail pincer-tongs provided, intending to pick out the meat with the special snail fork provided. Unfortunately, the shell didn't grip correctly, and rather than sitting firm in her grasp, the shell shot out like a buttery bullet and went skittering across the floor. As our bemused waiter bent to reclaim the snail, we embarassedly asked if that happened frequently. "No, not really." Happily, the rest of the escargot went quietly.

Footsore and tired from the week's pace, we opted for a bus-tour around the city. By this time we had seen many of the major sights (thought definitely not ALL, so y'all come back now, y'hear!), but I enjoyed the double-decked viewing platform and the intermittent sunshine.

And just like that, we had to drive Marshall and Lauren back to Brussels. Star and Kier got to squeeze out a few extra days in the Netherlands (see her post about that), but eventually all of us had to get back to jobs, kids (who were probably sad to leave Grandma and Grandpa), and normalcy. C'est la vie. I was so happy for everyone to visit, and hope that they'll be back while we are still in Europe (hint, hint).

#russ #visitors #castles #food #travel