5 Hidden Gems in Paris

Paris is one of my favorite cities to visit. I have toured the City of Lights on several occasions and visited most, if not all, the major attractions.

On this visit, I set out to dig deeper, discovering several “hidden gems.” Here are five.

Rue Crémieux

Tucked away in the 12th arrondisment,  the Rue Crémieux is a single block of colorful homes that provide a delightful contrast to the white limestone and blue slate that constitute most Parisian buildings.

The colorful Rue Crémieux.

Originally built as housing for workers, the homes now provide a quaint backdrop for selfies and other photo ops.

Color me beautiful.

The Grand Mosque of Paris

Opening in 1926 in the 5th arrondisment, the Grand Mosque of Paris is one of the largest in France. It provides a tranquil respite from the more famous tourist spots.

The garden is exquisite.

The mosque is off the beaten track, but its serene garden and colorful mosiac tiles make it worth a visit.

A peaceful respite.

Musée de la Vie Romantique

Founded in 1982, Musée de la Vie Romantique is a quaint house that provides a glimpse of what life was like in 19th century Paris.

La petite maison.

Nestled in the 9th arrondisment, the museum features painting and sculptures from the 19th century as well as a couple of rooms decorated in the period.

Colorful, ain’t it?

My favorite feature of the little museum was the cafe situated in a glass greenhouse next to the house. It’s the perfect spot for an afternoon cup of tea.

Nice spot to enjoy a sunny afternoon.

Montparnasse Cemetery

Cemeteries aren’t for everyone, but history buffs (and historical novelists) like myself often find themselves strolling among the dead. And there’s no better place to do it than Paris.

Paris is home to some famous cemeteries, namely the large Père Lachaise in the 20th arrondisment. But I encourage a visit to the much smaller Montparnasse Cemetery in the 14th arrondisment.

While it doesn’t have as many famous residents as Père Lachaise, Montparnasse is not without a few notables like the (in)famous intellectual Jean-Paul Sartre.

The last resting place of the writer and philosopher.

Yet it’s the tree-lined lanes and interesting monuments scattered throughout the cemetery that draw me here.

Simultaneously lovely and eerie.

If a stroll through Montparnasse Cemetery isn’t enough, you can always visit the Catacombs, an underground cemetery nearby.

59 Rivoli

In a city filled with art museums and galleries, it’s easy to overlook 59 Rivoli.

A contemporary art gallery/workshop.

The building located at 59 Rue Rivoli in the 1st arrondisment was an artist squat in 1999. The city was about to throw the artists out, but some media attention and the realization that people enjoyed touring the squat and seeing artists at work changed the city’s approach. 59 Rivoli was legalized in 2006 and became the home for 30 artists workshops as well as space to exhibit their work.

Artist workshop.

A spiral staircase takes visitors up six floors. The staircase alone makes a visit to 59 Rivoli worthwhile as it’s a work of art itself.

Stairway to art…

It’s up for debate if tourists visiting 59 Rivoli help or hinder the artists creating there, but they’re welcome nonetheless. This tourist and her hubby enjoyed a brief visit at 59 Rivoli — yet another hidden gem in the City of Lights.

Holiday Greetings from Tin Can Gulch

Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays
‘Cause no matter how far away you roam
If you want to be happy in a million ways
For the holidays, you can’t beat home sweet home.

I bear witness to the truth of these words. I have done more than my fair share of globe-trotting in the last decade, and I assure one and all — there really is no place like home! That’s particularly true during the holiday season.

Home means different things to different folks. For some, it’s their childhood abode. For others, it’s wherever they lay their head. But for most, it’s their safe haven and sometimes that’s a place, but not always. My rambling man, John, often tells me his home is wherever I am. Consequently, he can travel alone to exotic destinations where I fear to tread (Iran, for example) and as long as we meet up to spend time together in a locale more to my liking (Paris is nice!), he feels refreshed and rejuvenated – feelings I seem to most easily get here at The Gulch.

So, for me, home is a feeling.  Can you relate? You know, that warm, mushiness that envelops you when you sip hot chocolate all wrapped up in a fuzzy throw? That’s home. How about that tranquil sense of peace that you get when soaking in a bubble bath or watching the sunlight kiss a calm lake or gazing into the flickering flames of an open fire?  That’s home. Don’t forget the satisfying sensation of a sumptuous meal. Surely, that’s home as well.

Most of all, home is feeling safe. Home is feeling loved. Home is where you belong. It is, as Maya Angelou said, “where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” Home is where the troubles – real or imagined – that plague so much of our waking moments, take a back seat to comfort and serenity. All is well when we truly feel at home.

I realized when I read back over past holiday missives to prepare writing this one, how constant was the theme of home – specifically this physical place I call Tin Can Gulch. The concept of “home” has often been on my mind. It has permeated the novels I have written. Haunted by Honor is set against the back drop of a historic home such that the place becomes another character in the story. Sarah’s Way explores a young woman’s fight to keep her home. And August’s Home, the prequel to Sarah’s Way that I am (YES!!!) finally finishing up, takes a cue from my husband’s perspective, illustrating how a person can be our most beloved home.

Laura Ingalls Wilder said, “Home is the nicest word there is.” She’s got a point. It doesn’t get much nicer than feelings of safety, warmth, comfort and love. Home is sacred. Uniquely ours. No matter how often we leave, we always want to come back home. To gather. To rest. To simply be.

That’s why I love the holidays so much. It’s that special time of year when we return to whomever, whatever or wherever we call home. We come home for the holidays. Back to the sweetest person, place or thing we know. Home, sweet, home. No wonder it’s my favorite time of the year.

I sincerely hope this holiday season finds you at home – however you choose to define it – surrounded by and making merry memories with your favorite people!

Happy holidays from my home to yours.

A winter’s scene at Tin Can Gulch.

You Gotta Have Friends

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness…Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime. Mark Twain

There’s truth in Twain’s words. Travel teaches you that while the world is vast, Walt Disney was right all along — “it’s a small world, after all.” Specifically, it’s the people you meet on the road that shatter your narrow-mindedness and gift you with a charitable view of your fellow man.

Sometimes, it’s a total stranger that makes a lasting impression, but luckily, some of those who start as strangers become friends. It’s these relationships that really reveal the commonalities among all people.

This trip — starting in Sicily and ending weeks later in England — was about visiting friends we’ve made over the years on the road. With the exception of our Waleska neighbor, Glen, who now lives most of the year in Switzerland with his wife, Dominique, we visited wonderful people we have met as a result of leaving our little corner of the earth to explore parts known and unknown. They are the reason life is good on the road.

Catching up with Glen in Zurich.

Travel has revealed to me that, despite the myriad of cultural differences, people are more similar than dissimilar. The Turkish, Muslim woman loves her family just like I, the American, Christian woman, love mine. The Italian single mother struggles just like I, the American single mom, struggled. The mature, British woman siezed another chance at love just like I did. And so it goes.

The Yurtas family in Istanbul.

The world is full of spectacular sites — both natural and man-made– but it’s the people you meet along the way that bring lasting value to your life.

Enjoying Bolgna with our friend, Stefania.

Anytime you get a chance to travel — seize it. Cross borders and time zones to expand your life’s experience and broaden your mind. Most importantly, make friends along the way. Your life will be the richer for it.

Enjoying a movie in Essex with our British pals, Robert and Marilyn.

Ol’ Napoli

Addio Sud Italia!!

We ended our group tour of southern Italy with two days in that ancient city by the bay — Naples.

Ol’ Napoli

Mount Vesuvius looms silently over Naples, a dominant part of the landscape and history of the city and the surrounding area.

We spent an afternoon touring Herculaneum, a wealthy enclave of the elite in 76 AD when Vesuvius erupted and the town was buried under molten mud.

Herculaneum was an exclusive seaside town.

Vesuvius has erupted many times since it destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum, the last eruption occurring in 1944. It is one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world because 3,000,000 people live near enough to be affected by an eruption, with 600,000 in the danger zone. This is the most densely populated volcanic region in the world.

Herculaneum bears witness to the devastating power of the volcano as well as to the good life enjoyed by the Roman elite of the first century.

Mosaics filled the grand homes of the wealthy.

Most people fled, leaving servants/slaves behind to tend their homes. Those left behind, about 100, were doomed, entombed at the harbor where they awaited rescue boats.

Skeletal remains of victims at the harbor.

Vesuvius takes life, but it also bears fruit. Delicious tomatoes and grapes thrive in the volcanic soil as we discovered when visiting Cantina del Vesuvio for dinner and a wine tasting.

Cantina del Vesuvio thrives in the shadow of Mt. Vesuvius.

The scrumptious antipasto and mouth-watering spaghetti sauce made dinner at the Cantina my favorite.

Tomatoe sauce fit for the gods!

Naples is a large city with plenty of sites to see. Definitely need more time there than we had. We spent an entire morning visiting the National Archaelogical Museum of Naples which is filled with relics unearthed at Pompeii and Herculaneum and a plethora of Roman sculpture

Museum entrance.

Mosaic column from Herculaneum.

One of many exquisite statues on display.

The remainder of the day, before fatigue overtook me, was spent eating gelato and walking the streets of the city, including a visit to the Piazza del Plebiscito, the largest public square in Naples.

The streets were overrun with Napoletani out to shop, dine, or simply enjoy the sunshine on a beautiful winter day.

And so, the sun set on our first group tour. It had both positive and negative aspects, but in the final analysis, it’s best suited for those with limited time who prefer to have their trip pre-planned, tightly scheduled, and essentially decision-free. Since we prefer moving at our own pace and don’t mind the logistical hassles that accompany travel, we’ll continue to go it alone.

Addio ai viaggi di gruppo!

Exploring Italy’s Heel

Who knew our tour across Italy from Sorrento/Naples to the Adriatic shore would lead us to Santa Claus and Smurfville?

I discovered Santa Claus — Saint Nicholas — in the city of Bari where the remains of the early Christian are housed reverently in the Basilica San Nicola.

The remains of St. Nick are securely kept here.

Italy is famously shaped like a boot.  Bari is at the top of the boot’s heel. It is an interesting port city consisting of an old city center perfect for strolling, admiring the colorful laundry hanging from balconies, and watching local women make pasta or promonading down modern streets to shop for designer brands.

Typical street in old Bari.

Bari by the sea.

A short hour outside of Bari is the small, rural town of Albeorello with its unique trullis (pronounced by making “truly” plural) — conical structures that were originally built by farmers to capture rainwater that drained into a cistern underneath the structure. For those of us acquainted with the blue elves of cartoon fame, trullis look like Smurf houses.  The entire village of trullis certainly emitted a fairytale vibe.

Trullis are truly terrific.

Poor farmers later converted the trullis to homes, but once UNESCO declared Albeorello a world heritage site in 1996,  many of the trullis have been converted to lodging to accommodate tourists.

Inside a trulli.

From Bari, we made our way down Italy’s heel on the Adriatic to Lecce. If you’re a fan of baroque architecture, Lecce is a must-see. It’s strewn with baroque buildings thanks to its 17th century architects.

The bell tower of the Lecce Cathedral rises more than 200 feet.

Lecce’s architecture is so distinctive, it has acquired its own moniker — barocco leccese or Lecce baroque. The masterpiece is the Basilica di Santa Croce — which could be a dream or a nightmare depending on your taste for all things baroque.

Exterior of Basilica di Santa Croce

Interior of the Basilica di Santa Croce

Our tour of Italy’s heel continued around to the Ionian Sea, past Taranto and inland to Matera. The landscape here is mountainous, with lush rolling hills of green even in the winter.

Matera itself is famous for the cave dwellings carved into the hillsides.

A Matera hillside.

Matera’s unique landscape and biblical atmosphere make it a Hollywood favorite for filming.

A tour of the Storica Casa Grotta gave me a good idea of how the peasants who inhabited these dwellings lived.

The main living area.

Families crowded into the small cave house with their chickens and horse. While there was no indoor plumbing, of course, water was collected in a cistern underneath the house.

We’re headed back up the boot to Naples, but my tour around Italy’s heel has gifted me with landscapes, architecture, and culture that I won’t soon forget.

Arrivederci Matera!

A Group Tour of Southern Italy

Traveling on our own has been the Longino modus operandi for years. Except for the occasional cruise, we venture into the world on our own, figuring most things out as we go.

So when the seasoned solo traveler who also doubles as my spouse booked our first-ever tour-group trip, I was more than a little surprised. But hey, who would balk at a tour of southern Italy be it alone or with a crowd?

All my previous trips to Italia have been in the north. After all, it’s hard to beat a Tuscan sun. But the sun smiles on the Amalfi coast as well.

Morning in Positano

We kicked off our Italian excursion in Palermo to visit a friend. Palermo is the sprawling, busy capitol city on the northwest coast of Sicily. We focused our site-seeing in the old city center — and I mean old. Palermo has existed for 2700 years.

Piazza Pretoria under a Sicilian sun.

The Palatine Chapel in the Norman Palace was exquisite. The mosaics were in-layed with gold to create a dazzling display.

All that glitters is gold in the Palatine Chapel.

No trip to Palermo is complete without a side trip to the quaint seaside town of Cefalu — or so we were told by the young man sitting beside us on the plane ride into Palermo. About an hour from Palermo by train, Cefalu is known for its beach and 12th-century Norman cathedral.

Deserted beach in Cefalu on a chilly winter day.

Cefalu’s Norman Cathedral.

Back on the mainland, our guided tour began in Sorrento on Italy’s famous Mediterrean coast.

Downtown Sorrento

In addition to its ancient Roman walls, lemon trees will be top of mind when I recall Sorrento. They were lush — even in the brisk winter air — and prevalent wherever we went.

Lemon tree very pretty…

Tourists flock to this coastal region from March through November.  Visiting in the off season affords us quicker access to sites that, locals assure us, are overrun in July and August. The down side is the weather. It’s chilly.

Positano — a tourist hot spot on the famous Amalfi coast — was a cold spot on the day we visited. A blustery, bitter wind limited our beach time,  but also ensured that we could stroll the village streets without being jostled by a horde of people.

The beach at Positano is overrun in the summer months.

From Sorrento, we have made our way to the opposite coast — across “the boot” to the city of Bari on the Adriatic Sea.

From here, the tour will take us down the coast to Lecce and then back across “the boot” to Naples where we’ll cap off our eight-day tour.

Three days into our eight-day tour, the jury is still out on whether touring with a group will be added to our travel repertoire. So far, I’d say the negatives outweigh the positives, but I am keeping an open mind. Let’s see what unfolds over the next few days.

Storm clouds in Trani.

Holiday Greetings from Tin Can Gulch

What’s your favorite holiday tradition? Christmas dinner? Hanging wreaths? Sending holiday greetings like this one? Baking cookies? Dare I say watching Hallmark Christmas movies?

For many of us, it’s decorating ye old Christmas tree. I certainly fall into this category. In November, my mom and I ventured to the Festival of Trees for some decorative inspiration.

My favorite tree at the Festival of Trees.

I definitely got inspired. In fact, you could say that I have gone slightly crazy with the trees. I (with a lot of assistance from my oldest daughter) have decorated four trees this year — from a tiny two-footer in my foyer sprinkled with sentimental ornaments collected over the decades to the grand 9.5-foot, flocked baby in the family room. O Tannenbaum has taken on a whole new meaning in the Longino household.

Family room tree at the Gulch

Decorating all these trees got me thinking about my favorite holiday tradition. When did chopping down trees, carting them into your home, and adorning them with ornamentation start? And better yet, why?

A little research revealed that pagans were using fir boughs to celebrate the Winter Solstice long before Christianity first appeared. For instance, the Celts decorated their druid temples with evergreen boughs which signified everlasting life. The Vikings thought evergreens were the plants of Balder, the god of light and peace. The ancient Romans marked the Winter Solstice with a decadent, week-long celebration called Saturnalia thrown in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture, decorating their homes and temples with evergreen boughs.

In the early days of Christianity, the birth of Jesus was set as the last day of Saturnalia by the first Christian Romans in part as a way to approach (and convert!) pagans. But it was German Christians who began the Christmas tree tradition in the 16th Century by decorating fir trees inside their homes.

The traditional little tree in my TV room.

We have Queen Victoria to thank for the modern Christmas tree complete with presents underneath. In 1846, the queen and her German husband, Albert, were sketched in the Illustrated London News standing with their children around a Christmas tree at Windsor Castle. Although German immigrants had brought the custom of Christmas trees to Britain with them in the early 1800s, the practice didn’t catch on until the locals saw their queen enjoying the tradition.

Americans, however, weren’t swayed by royalty. Dutch and German immigrants had brought the practice with them to the New World, but it wasn’t ubiquitous in the U.S. until the early 20th century. President Calvin Coolidge started the National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony on the White House lawn in 1923. We’ve been lighting up trees coast-to-coast ever since.

Today, Christmas trees — like the holiday itself — are big business worldwide. According to the National Christmas Tree Association, 25 to 30 million real Christmas trees are sold in the U.S. alone every year. There are close to 15,000 farms growing 350 million Christmas trees in the U.S., and more than 100,000 people are employed full or part-time in the industry. But Canada exports more Christmas trees than any other country. Balsam firs are the most popular, undoubtedly because of their lovely aroma.

And that’s just real trees. Another 10 million artificial trees (95% made in China) are sold annually in the U.S. In fact, most Americans (more than 67%) prefer and use artificial trees, according to a Rocket Homes survey.

For more than two decades, I have been on Team Real, but this year marks my foray into flocked fakery. In addition to the artificial giant in the family room (and the two, little fake trees lighting up downstairs), I erected a 4.5-foot flocked fir in The Taj, my private lair where I go to write, snore, or just chill out. Go Team Phony!

The flocked fir in my she shed.

Whether yours is real or not, here’s hoping you and yours thoroughly enjoy your tree tradition this holiday season.

Make merry!

A Windy Day in Arles

The last day of our voyage aboard the SS Catherine ended in Arles, a lovely city in Provence famous for its Roman ruins and for inspiring Vincent Van Gogh with its blue skies and sunlight.

Hospital featured in a Van Gogh painting

I was met in Arles by the mistral, a strong, cold, northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the northern Mediterranean. It produces sustained winds often exceeding 41 mph and sometimes reaching 115 mph. For a moment this morning, I felt like I was in the Windy City (Chicago) not in the south of France.

Arles is an eminently walkable city, even when battling the mistral. The buildings, ancient and otherwise, provided cover from the cold wind.

Place de Republique

A former provincial capital of Rome, the city is replete with remnants of that empire both above …

The amphitheater now hosts plays, concerts and bull fights.

and below ground. In the Place de Republique, you can go underground to stroll through the remains of an ancient forum that once served as the town square.

Remnants of the Roman town square

But many come to Arles to walk in the footsteps of Vincent Van Gogh who immortalized the vibrant yellow of the sunlight here in contrast to the cerulean skies.

Cafe featured in a Van Gogh painting

Van Gogh only lived in Arles for about 15 months. It was a very productive period for the artist. During his stay, he produced more than 200 paintings, more than 100 drawings and watercolors, and wrote some 200 letters. He definitely left his mark.

I couldn’t help but observe, as I visited everyday spots made famous by the painter, that the troubled, young man had ultimately succumbed to the mistral raging in his mind.

A cold wind can blow even in the most beautiful of places.

A castle on the banks of the Rhône near Arles

Of Wine and Truffles

I acquired a taste for truffles when visiting Tuscany for the first time in 2014. Interested in learning more about the tasty mushrooms. I jumped at the chance on my cruise through southern France to visit the world’s other truffle hotspot — Provence.

The largest truffle ever found in France was a 10kg specimen found in the Alpes de Haute Provence in 1860. All truffles are white when they first appear in May or June but they turn grey and then brownish black. The black truffles are the juiciest and are harvested from November to February. They’re called “black diamonds” more because of their shape than due to their value — which can certainly be as dear as diamonds.

Today, I visited Domaine St. Alban, a truffle farm owned by Christian Allegre, located near the small town of Viviers. Mr. Allegre introduced us to Ollie, one of the dogs he uses to sniff out the truffles hiding under the oak groves on his farm.

Ollie hunting for a truffle.

Truffles weren’t the only thing on the menu today. Sampling the Chateauneuf du Pape wine for which this area of the Rhône Valley is famous was the main course. Frankly, I preferred the chocolates paired with the reds. In fact, I would have preferred the chocolates without the reds!

Tasting at the Bouachon cellar.

The one thing I’ve learned about wine here in the epicenter of the wine world is that wine is a very personal experience. We don’t all taste or smell the same bouquets; and at the end of the day, a good wine is simply the one you enjoy.

As for me, I come to France for the food and landscapes more than the grapes. But it’s undoubtedly the triune of wine, food and pastoral beauty that make France the most visited country in the world.

Sonté!

A touch of the French countryside as seen from the town of Viviers

The Rhône Valley

Overlooking the Rhône Valley from L’Hermitage.

From Bordeaux to Burgundy and now Rhône. I wish I could say my palate was sophisticated enough to taste the differences in the wines from these world-famous areas, but alas, it is not.

While I can’t appreciate the subtleties of French wine, I do value the diverse and stunning landscapes in this beautiful country.

The Rhône River from a hill in Tournon.

I awoke this morning in Tain-l’Hermitage in the Rhône Valley. It’s a small town, roughly 6,000 people, known for the wine and gourmet chocolate produced here.

Wine tasting wasn’t the first thing on the agenda this morning. I started the day in a small church listening to a brief organ concert which began with Bach and ended in the organist’s improvisation.

Organ and guest organist, Michele Robert, at Église du Prieure de Tain

That’s what some would call “culture” with a capital “C,” but it’s as lost on me as the delectable intricacies of the gourmet chocolate made here.

Hiking is more my cup of tea. Putting one foot in front of the other to climb a hill to see the view from on high is something I grasp quite well. Today, I got to climb two hills — one on each side of the river connected by a rather picturesque, wooden footbridge. Thankfully, the footbridge escaped obliteration in WWII when the Allies simply removed the wood rather than blow the bridge to smithereens.

Passarelle Marc Seguin

Once across the historic bridge, we climbed to one of the two remaining towers of the old rampart in the city of Tournon located directly across the Rhône from Tain-l’Hermitage.

Originally there were 12 towers, established in the 16th century under the command of Claude de la Tour Turelle, countess of Tournon. Today, there are just two, one capped by a statue of the Virgin Mary dating back to 1860.

The Virgin keeps watch over Tournon.

The second climb was on the Tain-l’Hermitage side of the Rhône and was a tad more strenuous. But we were rewarded with a glass of red and white wine half way up one of the hills in the L’Hermitage vineyard.

Amid l’Hermitage vineyard.

John and I ventured to a higher terrace to capture the view of the valley. It didn’t disappoint, but my favorite vista was seen on the hike down the rutted trail.

The sunlight cast a warm glow on the terraced vines and I knew just across the river the Virgin stood watch.

A fine picture for an equally fine day.