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Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Europe Monaco

A Loser in Monaco

On my third day in Nice, I set out to accomplish the reason that I traveled there in the first place, which was to visit Monaco. Monaco, the second smallest sovereign state in the world (after Vatican City). A dot on the map in the French Riviera famous for yachts, gambling, and royalty. I don’t necessarily have a desire to visit every country in the world, but I just could not leave this European micro-state unvisited by me.

Getting from Nice to Monaco

Monaco makes a perfect day trip from Nice. Clearly, the best way to reach it would be by a car; preferably convertible, hugging the curving highways as you travel east; sunglasses on, a cigarette in your mouth, and the object of your affection by your side. But I don’t know how to drive…so I was going to take the train. When I mentioned this to the staff at my hotel, they assured me that I was making the wrong decision. While normally when given the option between train and bus, train is the better choice, in this case it is not. The train travels inland between Nice and Monaco, while the bus travels the iconic highway along the French Riviera. The people at the hotel assured me that if I did not take the bus I would be missing out on some extraordinary views. Who was I question them?

I left early in the morning from my hotel and took the tram to Port Lympia station. The distance was walkable, but I wanted to get an early start. From the station, just around the corner of a church, was the bus stop for #607 that headed to Monaco. I think it’s a good idea to get there early so that you can queue up, because you really want to get a seat on the right-hand side of the bus so that you can see the views.

tram in Nice

Leaving Nice & the bus to Monaco

Most people taking the bus seemed to be locals going to work. As such, the bus was a pretty relaxing journey. Quiet and comfortable. It even had little USB phone chargers. The whole thing took about an hour.

The views were spectacular. I wished that I could have popped out at every city along the way to have a bit of a wander. The road did indeed hug the curves along the mountains looking down at the sea and charming towns and villages. It was impossible to get good photos, but I tried to snap a few through the window.

view of the Riviera

Arrival in Monaco

Upon arriving in Monaco there are numerous stops where one can disembark. You can go right to Monte Carlo if that’s your scene, but I had a few other things to see first so I got off at the Place d’Armes. This allowed me to visit the palace, cathedral, and aquarium before walking to Monte Carlo. As soon as I got off the bus I took a moment to acknowledge that I was in a new country. There was a farmers market happening and I bought an exquisite pear. Seriously, I’m still thinking about how delicious this pear was.

Arrival in Monaco & The Perfect Pear

On the Steps of the Palace

I then walked up the hill to the palace. Monaco is a monarchy. It also has a Prime Minister, but it is more famous for its monarchy. At the top of the hill along with some excellent views of the harbor and various yachts, was the palace. Normally you can visit it, but on the day that I arrived it was closed.

I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady Immaculate where Princess Grace was buried. As a lover of old movies, I was always fascinated by this beautiful actress who went from being an Alfred Hitchcock films to marrying a Prince and moving to Europe. I paid my respects to moved on.

*walking around near the palace and cathedral*

The Oceanographic Museum

It was a beautiful walk to The Oceanographic Museum. An aquarium? Really? I’m not normally one to visit such a place, but I had heard that the aquarium in Monaco was indeed worth visiting. The museum was inaugurated in 1911 and is housed in a beautiful Bella pock building that clings to a Cliff over the Mediterranean. For a glimpse inside alone, it’s worth buying a ticket. The facility was headed Jacques Cousteau for nearly 30 years. This isn’t the sort of problematic aquarium where orcas are going to leap out of the water for your amusement. This is more of a scientific type of aquarium and the animals on display are primarily things like fish and eels. I thoroughly enjoyed walking through and seeing the beautiful displays of fish as well as the museum portion of the building which contained fascinating relics from naval and Arctic expeditions. It was also pleasant to get out of the sun for about an hour.

The Casino de Monte-Carlo

From the aquarium, I walked towards Monte Carlo. Now I felt like I was really seeing Monaco. The streets were beautiful and everyone looked wealthy. Beautiful cars and expensive looking shops. It was a short walk. My destination: the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

Arriving to the area in front of the casino there were art displays of Princess Grace and Prince Ranier III as well as depictions of Hollywood stars like Frank Sinatra (with whom Grace starred in ‘High Society’).

My first order of business is walking to the local cigar store to check out the selection. Prices were not too bad so I bought a handful of Cuban cigars and made my way over to the Café de Paris on the square in front of the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

*the Cafe de Paris patio and view of the Casino; my newly purchased cigars.*

The casino closes from noon to 2:00 every afternoon. I had arrived in that blackout, so I decided to have a drink (or two) on the patio of the Café de Paris. It is the perfect spot. It is a large patio with everyone facing towards the square looking at the beautiful buildings and the casino, watching the people coming and going. It is definitely a place with a lot of tourists, but also locals and wealthy visitors. There was a fleet of luxury cars parked out front and on the day that I visited there was also a gaggle of paparazzi pointing their cameras at the casino, but I don’t know for who or what. I know it wasn’t for me.

I had an excellent time sitting on the patio. I had a cigar and two negronis and felt pretty good by myself. The servers were very friendly. All the while I was steeling my nerves to go into the casino and try my hand at roulette.

I am not a gambler. I don’t like casinos, and I think gambling is silly unless you just really enjoy the rush of doing it. I do not enjoy that rush. I would much rather just have my money in my pocket and spend it on something that I like; however, I wasn’t coming all the way to Monte Carlo and not trying a game in the casino. I had decided that I would play roulette because slots are lame and I don’t know how to play any card games.

I did some studying before I went to Monte Carlo, to figure out if there was any strategy to roulette (apart from “always bet on black”) or what the etiquette about it was. I think this was a good idea, because before doing this research I somehow thought that I got to spin the roulette wheel. Apparently, that is a faux pas.

One can enter the lobby of the casino and have a look around the lobby for free. But if you want to enter the gaming salons, you need two things: one is your passport. Seriously, do not go to Monaco without your passport. As well, you need to pay an entry fee. You pay €20 to enter the casino, but if you enter after 2:00pm, €10 of that you can use for drinks or games in the casino. I thought it was quite reasonable.

The interior of the casino is gorgeous. The gaming tables make it seem very ‘James Bond’. The room that has the slot machines in it feels a bit tacky, but the main room is excellent. I felt like a huge fraud walking inside. I don’t gamble, I’m not rich, and I didn’t know what I was doing.

I walked over to the bar and used my €10 voucher towards an espresso martini. I sat down on one of the sofas and watched the action. Unfortunately smoking is not allowed inside, or I would have lit a cigar immediately. It has the kind of atmosphere that begs to be smoked in.

I tried to look cool and watch people playing games. Photos are not allowed inside but I did sneak one just for the sake of my own memory.

I finished my drink and I walked up to one of the roulette tables. There was a couple at it playing roulette; middle-aged European; they clearly knew what they were doing. I had exchanged €120 into chips. A friend had given me €60 to play on the table, and I decided to match their €60 with €60 of my own. This was the most that I have ever spent on gambling and probably ever will.

I didn’t really have a strategy, but I wanted the moment to last for as long as possible so I made small, simple bets in the hopes that I would win something.

The European couple realized that I didn’t know what I was doing and gave me some advice. They were quite kind. I would have thought that people gambling in Monte Carlo would have been snobby, but these people were not. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but I didn’t feel unwelcome

Each time the wheel was spun (sounding to me more like ‘The Price in Right’ than ‘Casino Royle’) I had a little flicker of hope that maybe I would double my money and walk out a winner. One time I did win something, and decided to let it ride. Then I lost. Indeed, on every hand other than that one, I lost my money. It didn’t take long before my 120 euros was gone.

I had a good time, but I was a little disappointed that I didn’t walk out winning something. Or at least breaking even. I know that the reason that casinos are so rich is because people generally lose, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe I would be different. Maybe I would have a magical Monte Carlo gambling experience. But, nope.

Leaving Monaco

I walked out of the casino feeling like a loser. I was a loser. I looked around at the square and the fancy cars and the fancy cafe and I was just done with it. The sun seemed too hot, the sky too bright, and I just wanted to get out of there. I walked to the bus stop and waited for the next bus back to Nice. I couldn’t get back fast enough; maybe it was the three cocktails I’d had or the heat, or the fact that I had not eaten since I had the pear, but I started to feel a little bit sick and I just wanted to be back in Nice.

Reflections & Moving on

Monaco was an excellent day trip. It was easy and fun and different. I’m even glad that I gambled even, though it was clearly a huge waste of money, but I think that’s the last time for me. I was much happier smoking my cigars and walking around then I was spinning away my money. But I’ll try anything once.

I had a final night in Nice; dinner in a cigar. The next morning, I had a morning flight to Athens, via Paris.

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Europe France

Two Perfect Days in Nice

Algiers to Nice

I left Algiers absurdly early on February the 13th. My destination was Nice, France. I had been to France multiple times, but never to the South. I was curious to see Nice, but my real reason for going there was to make a day trip to Monaco. But fly to Nice I did; a short hop from Algiers to Paris to Nice. I arrived at about 7:00 AM and I would have three days and three nights in the city before moving on.

From the airport I took the tram from the airport into the city centre. Easy. I walked a few blocks to my hotel, the Hotel du France (which was very nice, with great staff, quince wallpaper, and not too expensive), and dropped off my bag. I walked a few blocks to the sea.

Nice Impressions

I’m not a big fan of the ocean. I live about a block from the ocean in Vancouver and I almost never go to it. I like that it’s there and I like being near it, but I have very little desire to look out at it. I know people who are happy to just gaze out at the sea and frankly I don’t understand what the appeal is. I would much rather sit at a sidewalk cafe in interesting city, or, if I had to look out at nature, I’d much rather look at mountains or a valley than the ocean. But as I gazed out at the Mediterranean from the boardwalk in Nice, I think I kind of got it, at least for a moment. It was so stunningly beautiful. The colours of the water and sky and this uninterrupted stretch of beach were just lovely. And the fact that I could look out at it without actually having to step on sand was even better. They have these strips of chairs along the boardwalk where people can gaze out at the beach and the water. And people did. And so did I.

I liked Nice instantly. For the moment I got off the tram it was beautiful. Beautiful buildings, beautiful streets, beautiful lemon trees, and beautiful people. It just had this wonderfully calm and elegant atmosphere. No one was rushing. It surprised me little. I generally prefer chaotic and loud cities, but something about Nice won me over. And I hadn’t even seen the old city centre at this point.

Day One

I walked through the city and eventually made my way over to the old part of Nice, which was even more charming. The buildings were perfect. They were old and colourful with warm tones of yellow and ochre, coral and tangerine, many with small flourishes of design and just the right amount of weathering to give them character. It was so charming.

Because it is France, many people smoke, and while many people smoke cigarettes they don’t look down their nose at people who smoke cigars, so I was in a good place. I had already mapped out a few cigar stores, some of which had seats outside, but I didn’t need particular cigar lounges, as I was welcome to enjoy a cigar on any patio. I found myself a seat on a patio and had a cigar and a coffee and watched people parade past.

Generally speaking, the people in Nice were dressed beautifully. Even out for a casual stroll they were well put together with smart blazers, jaunty scarves, beautiful bags and sunglasses. Subtly stylish and comfortable. Because I had known that I would be going to Monaco on this trip and I had wanted to smoke cigars and visit the casino there, I had dressed nicer on this trip than I usually do, and I was thankful for it when I arrived in Nice. I didn’t feel out of place. I still had my combat boots (for comfort and possible altercations) but my little black dress, blazer, and oversized sunglasses seemed to work well. Did I look like I fit in? Maybe; but that facade was all done away with once I opened my mouth, and I spoke French like a child.

I walked to the Place Massena where the famous Sun Fountain stands. It features a large statue of Apollo flanked by smaller statues of Earth, Saturn, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. It was originally built in 1956, and was somewhat controversial, because Apollo, who, in mythology, leads a chariot with four horses across the sky each day to bring light, was depicted as without his chariot and with his four horses nestled onto his head like kind of a crown. Moreover, he was nude, and not everyone could agree if he should have been or if he was too well endowed. The artist performed a sort of ‘reduction’ on the statue to please the public, which it did not, and it was taken down for many years and put into storage until finally being fully re-erected, no pun intended, in 2011. Problematic history aside it is an impressive piece, framed by salmon-coloured, curved buildings and set on a black and white checkerboard tiled square.

I spent my first day in Nice walking around and looking at buildings and taking pictures, stopping for coffee and cigars. It was very pleasant. I didn’t really have an agenda in Nice. I just wanted to see it and visit Monaco so I felt no need to take anything off a list, which was good. I had a thoroughly awful meal that evening. I made a mistake of eating at a restaurant that I think catered to tourists and I had a pizza which was gross. (As much as I like France, it still is one of the countries with the least options for vegetarians, in my experience.) While I was eating the pizza (and trying and failing to do so elegantly) outside on the patio, a pigeon flew into the window and landed under my table, in trauma. I spent the entire meal checking on it and trying to give it drinks of water hoping that it would regain its consciousness, but it died around the time I asked for the cheque. C’est la vie.

Day Two

The next day, I made my way back into old Nice (just a few minutes’ walk from my hotel) for the morning flower, fruit, and vegetable market. As if the old city needed to be anymore charming. But it was more charming. I walked around; I ate a pear and had a cigar in a coffee. I had my eagle eyes on the socca stand, waiting for it to open up. Socca is a Nice treat. It’s kind of like a very thin, crispy pancake made from olive oil and chickpea flour, sprinkled with salt and pepper and served from various stands around the city. It’s very tasty.

More beautiful buildings. I couldn’t get enough photos.

It was February the 14th. Valentine’s Day and I was in Nice, in France. I saw people out for romantic meals and holding hands, but none of that was for me. I went on a walk up to the Cimetière du Château – because why not hang out in a cemetery on Valentine’s Day?

The walk up the hill was pleasant, and past an aggressive fountain and various tile work pieces displaying Neptune another underwater creatures. At the top is the cemetery and stunning views over the city and the sea.

I wandered around up there for a while before making my way back to the Old Town.

I walked the streets a little bit more, popping into some of the shops. There are delightful vintage stores in Nice. Tiny little boutiques with well curated collections of clothing and accessories. I bought a blazer in a handbag. I’m really not a shopper, but somehow ‘Nice me’ wanted to go shopping. I then went for a very ladylike lunch of an onion tart, a glass of cheap wine, and a cigar.

As I walked around, I noticed that the hours of the restaurants and shops in Nice. I’m from Canada, where things are pretty much open seven days a week and generally long hours. Some things are open 24 hours a day. Why should we be denied the opportunity to buy toothpaste at 2:00 in the morning? But in Nice many of the shops were closed at least two days a week and their hours of operation during the day were chaotic. For example open Wednesday to Saturday from 11:00 AM to 2:00 PM and 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM. What this told me was that people there have some sort of quality of life. There wasn’t the need to be working every minute of the day or to be catering to customers 24/7. You want to eat in my restaurant? You fit my schedule; not the other way around. It was kind of refreshing.

I popped into the Palais Lascaris; built in 1648 as the home for the Lascaris Vintimille family until the French Revolution, it is now a museum. It was pleasant to walk through the ornate rooms and there was a particularly good collection of antique musical instruments.

I had really wanted to visit the Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain, but it was closed for some sort of renovation. So I went to the Chagall museum.

I’m not a big fan of Chagall, so this museum wasn’t high on my list, even though most lists of what to do in Nice will include this is one of the top attractions. It was fine. I have a better understanding of Chagall’s work now, but it’s still not my cup of tea. However, if you like his paintings this would be a ‘must see’.

That evening, I took myself out for a quasi-romantic dinner-for-one on the patio of an Afghan restaurant in the old city of Nice. Of course I had a cigar. It was exquisite.

Nice had thoroughly charmed me and turned me into somehow a classier more relaxed version of myself. The next day would be my day trip to the micro-country of Monaco.

Africa Algeria Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024

Museums, Monuments, & Massacres: Day 2 in Algiers

My first day in Algiers had been sunny, but on my second day in Algiers, it was pouring rain. Not a little rainfall, but a heavy, relentless torrent. I was soaked through before I had an opportunity to buy an umbrella. I didn’t realize it until later, but the rain had ruined my passport, washing away the details and colours of my photo until I looked like an apparition. Fortunately, the rain was only a morning problem. By the afternoon, the sun was out, and we began to dry off.

I met my guide Rasha (from Fancy Yellow Algeria) at my hotel, and we embarked on a day tour of Algiers, which was about eight hours. This was the first time, I think, that I have ever had a female guide, which a nice change. We started by retracing my steps from the previous day, but this time, I got to see some extra, hidden places in the casbah. Mosques and dwellings were revealed to me behind closed doors. We went to a bombed-out building where the photos of Algerian heroes hung.

*Too many casbah photos? Well then they shouldn’t make it to photogenic.*

The French colonization of Algeria was a theme.

The French were there from about 1830 to July 1962. The French brought more than beautiful buildings and a European café scene; they brought death and destruction. The tales of horrors committed by the French against the Algerians were extreme: rape, torture, burying people alive, throwing them off cliffs, and worse. This was particularly bad when the Algerians fought for their independence and the French retaliated during the Algerian War (1954-1962). While travel tends to teach me that that people are basically kind, history teaches me that we have always done terrible things to each other and probably always will.

We climbed up to a rooftop and had coffee whilst overlooking the city and the sea.

After a very nice lunch, we took the subway to the botanical gardens. The subway is limited in terms of how much it covers, but is a proper, functioning metro.

We walked through the gardens, which were stunning. Interestingly, it formed the location setting for many of the shots from the 1932 movie “Tarzan the Ape Man”. Which was shot mostly in Algiers but many of the jungle scenes specifically in the botanical gardens. The tree and lagoon from the movie are still there.

From the top of the botanical gardens, we took a gondola up to the Museum of Fine Arts. It is one of the largest Fine Arts museums in Africa and has a good collection of European and Algerian art. The museum seemed to be almost empty at the time that we were there which made for a nice experience.

From the museum we walked over to the monument of Algerian independence, a huge and imposing structure with an eternal flame the countries independence and those who died in the struggle. There is also a small museum just underneath it which isn’t a great museum but it does provide a lot of information about the war and if you enjoy viewing awkward mannequins recreating historical torture, you might really dig it.

We took the subway back downtown and parted ways. It had been an excellent and educational tour. My time in Algiers did feel a little bit rushed, because it was a little bit rushed, but I was happy with what I had seen. I had the evening free to myself. I walked around at night, feeling even more comfortable today than I had the day before and took pictures of buildings and mosques as the call to prayer rang out.

I had done some research on where to smoke cigars. I saw almost no one in Algiers smoking shisha, which was a bit surprising to me, but it just doesn’t really have that scene. I also looked into where I could smoke cigars inside and there seemed to be no real answer. I found one blog for many years ago that referenced a restaurant where smoking was allowed but I couldn’t find it anymore. However, I did find a peculiar restaurant that had both smoking and non-smoking sections and I decided to go there. It was called the Brasserie des Facultés and was a watering hole/bistro across from the university. And they do in fact have a smoking section. I was delighted. The place felt wonderfully 1970s. I ordered some dinner and enjoyed a Romeo y Julieta along with it. How civilized.

Dinner, like my lunch in Algiers, was bland. Couscous or noodles with vegetables served in a tagine. Not offensive, just bland, I longed for spicy sauces.

But good food was just around the corner as I was about to leave for France. Algeria deserves more of my time, and I definitely plan to go back to visit the desert vistas of the South, but for now this is all I would see. The next morning, the third day after I arrived in Algiers, I was on the 6:15 AM flight to Nice.

Africa Algeria Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024

Alighting in Algiers

I wanted to visit Algeria. The largest country in Africa, sitting on the north coast between Morocco and Tunisia, stretching from the Sea to the Sahel. It seems to have it all: stunning desert vistas, a vibrant capital, rich cultural traditions, ancient ruins…I was smitten. I particularly wanted to visit the south, with its isolated, ancient desert cities. I’ll tell you now that I did not get to the south. I still plan to visit, but it didn’t happen this time.

Logistics

Algeria is one of those countries that has been very difficult to visit. Visas required with invitation letters and mandatory tours, consulates that don’t respond, and expensive fees. This have been getting better in the past few years, but when I went it was still not super easy. To go, I needed a visa, which required sending my passport to Ottawa with an application, fees, my bank account statement, a letter from my employer, an itinerary, and an invitation from a tour company. I’ve never done a multi day tour and wasn’t interested in it, but I had heard that it might be possible to travel independently after I took a tour. I understand this is now possible; then it was not – or so I was told. There were a lot of competing stories at the time. The tour company said I could only get a visa for the length of my tour. I did ask how much a tour would be if it included a few days in the south, but it was prohibitively expensive. So I reached a compromise: I would only visit Algiers (this time) and worked out a short visit (so it wasn’t too costly) that gave me some time on my own as well as with a guide.

I had heard so many horror stories from people who sent their passport into the Algerian consulate in Ottawa and never got the visa, or that it took months; I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I mailed in my application on a Monday and had my passport back, with the visa, by Friday of the same week.

The arrangement I had was with the Fancy Yellow tour company. They arranged to pick me up at the airport and drive me back to the airport and I had a half day tour on my second day.

Overnight in Paris

I flew from Vancouver to Paris, where I spent the night; arriving late and leaving early. I stayed at the hotel Libertel Gare Du Nord Suede, which was cheap and serviceable, and went for a late night was around the area, just to stretch my legs and soak up something of being in Paris. I got a sandwich and had a small cigar in the chilly February air before going to sleep.

Arrival

The next morning, I flew to Algiers. No hassles at the airport. I had my visa. It was about 12:45. I met my driver, changed some money, and drove to the ABC Hotel. What it lacked in charm or character it made up for in being in a central location and being clean and functional with a nice free breakfast and helpful staff.

I immediately went out to explore.

Algiers

I walked all around the central part of Algiers, taking in the streets and walking past landmarks and impressive buildings. Algiers is lovely. Like a cleaner Paris in some areas. Gleaming white buildings with decorative balconies, flower sellers, tree-lined streets, statues, and squares. It was lovely and felt safe and, while I was dressed quite modestly anyway (all in black with a loose knee-length dress, sweater, blazer, scarf, tights, and combat boots), I didn’t feel like that was strictly necessary. Certainly there was no need to cover my head or wear an abaya.

Post Office

I took photos of the stunning mosques (they didn’t seem to be open for interior visits). I got a Mhajeb, also known as Mahdjoub (a delicious flatbread/crepe-like thing stuffed with, in this case, different greens) being sold from a window. A few men on the streets played the Algerian mandole for donations.

Most people in Algiers spoke Arabic, with some French, and Berber, with the written language of Tifinagh, a written form of Berber appearing on many signs. Tifinagh is a very intriguing looking language; almost like a language that would be engraved on some alien artifact.

Language barriers notwithstanding, it seemed like an easy place to visit. But I hadn’t been to the Casbah yet. The Casbah was the most appealing part of Algiers. An historic quarter of the city, rising up a hill, with the buildings mostly dating back to the 17^th and 18^th centuries. It is a UNESCO heritage site, but due to years of conflict, colonization, and neglect, parts of it are in very poor repair. Readings about the Casbah, most reports say it is dangerous; that tourists should not visit it without a guide. I didn’t let that stop me, and had no issues wandering the narrow, crooked alleys. I was a bit shy about taking pictures that day, not wanting to attract any hostility. (I made up for it the next day.)

Had this been my only visit to the Casbah, I would have been quite happy, but I admit that I had a better visit the next day with my guide, as there was so much history I didn’t know and areas I had missed.

But it was a perfect wander, and I finished it off with a coffee and a cigar on the excellent patio of Le Tantonville Grande Café d’Alger. Dating back to 1883, it has history and a perfect patio for people watching as you sip your coffee. It was, apparently popular with French bohemians, artists, writers, and philosophers, including Camus and Sartre. I felt rather sophisticated.

I went back to my room just after dark. It had been a long journey. I thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Algiers, but I will say that the city felt a bit quiet. It wasn’t busy or bustling, and just felt subdued. There is nothing wring with that, but I felt like it lacked excitement, but it made up for it in history and looks.

The next day I would have a guided tour and see much more of the city.

Europe Ireland

New Year’s Eve in Dublin

I awoke in Dublin in my hostel bunk. I had had a perfectly lovely evening the night before but this was my one and only full day in the city. It was December 31st, and I would be leaving early the next morning. There was no time to waste.

I walked into the city and retraced some of my steps from the night before, to see the areas in daylight. The weather was not cooperating. It was windy and gray and cold. The grey and cold I was expecting and actually fine with, but the wind made things unpleasant. Fortunately, by the afternoon the sun would come out again for a bit.

I felt immediately at home in Dublin; notwithstanding the excessive alcohol consumption I had observed the night prior, it has a seriousness about it. A studious, literary kind of aura that I’m very comfortable with. It’s entirely possible that I am projecting onto the city that which I already expected from a lifetime of reading novels and poetry by Irish authors, but nevertheless, that’s how it felt and I liked it.

Walking around Dublin there were plaques and statues to great Irish writers and thinkers. I sought out Oscar Wilde’s house and the statue of him. I won’t post a photo of the statue as it is ubiquitous online and I’m not a big fan, but it was very cool to see his house.

I had planned, of course, to go to Trinity College to see the library, however, it was closed for cleaning or renovation, so I had to take it off the list. Right there is a good reason to return to Dublin. But I was able to wander the city. I visited parks and shops and numerous cafes whenever I needed a break from my walking in the cold. Everyone I chatted with was friendly.

I visited Saint Patrick’s cathedral, which was a ticketed church, but well worth it as it is beautiful inside and there is a lot to look at. I enjoyed the decoration and design of the inside of the church, as well as the mummified remains of a cat and rat that were pulled out of the pipe organ in the 1950s.

I wandered aimlessly through the city at some point taking in statues and green spaces and bits of street art.

I visited the pub the Brazen Head, which bills itself as Dublin’s oldest pub, having been open since 1198. It wasn’t the best pub that I’d been to, but since I was right there, how could I skip such superlative drinking experience?

I walked to the Irish Museum of Modern Art, which was excellent. Precisely the sort of modern and occasionally weird art that I enjoy.

I visited two cigar stores downtown. There was a James J Fox, which is related to the James J Fox tobacconist shops in London, which I frequent when I am there. As well as ‘The Decadent Cigar Emporium’. In both cases, I bought a couple of cigars and chatted with the proprietors about the smoking laws in Dublin.

I had read prior to coming to Dublin that smoking had been banned indoors everywhere, but sometimes when you make inquiries you can find that there are certain secret places to smoke. Sadly, both shops confirmed for me that smoking is indeed banned inside and that includes a prohibition on any cigar lounges. The people at James J Fox were able to give me intel on one pub, however, where smoking would be allowed because it is technically outdoors. The James Toner pub. I made a mental note of that for later.

I wandered the alleys and poked around in bookshops and vintage clothing stores, just enjoying whatever i found in my path.

I was having a perfectly lovely day – especially after the sun came out; however, things took a turn when the sun went down. It was December the 31st. What that meant was that once the evening came, everyone’s evening plans went into full New Year’s Eve mode. I didn’t have any New Year’s Eve plans being there alone in the city. I should say, I don’t like New Year’s regardless of where I am. I think it’s a stupid holiday. I don’t like excessive drinking, I don’t like staying up late, and I don’t like big raucous parties, so it’s just not for me. So spending New Years in a foreign city means that I’m a bit of an outsider. I would have been perfectly content to go for a nice dinner and have a drink somewhere but most of the restaurants had put in place expensive tickets for parties or multi course dinners with a prefix menu. And I wasn’t about to go and spend £100 to have a dinner or attend a party that I didn’t want. I also would have been happy to sit outside somewhere and just watch the world go by but, being that it was December in Ireland, it was cold and had started to rain again. I tried to elbow my way into a few pubs just to have a drink, but those places had already become so packed there was a waiting list outside.

Remembering the suggestion of the tobacconists at James J Fox, I walked to the James Toner pub. And this was my salvation. The James Toner pub is a proper pub, but they have a back entrance and there’s a sort of massive mostly enclosed patio area where smoking is allowed. You basically feel like you are indoors except that there is a small part of the ceiling that is replaced with the sky. It still had leather booths and tables and TVs and a full bar. The heaters were blaring and it was comfortable. I sat there and had three cigars and multiple Jameson and ginger ale drinks (a drink that I had only discovered once I went to Dublin and found to be quite tasty). People weren’t particularly social outside of their individual groups. It was New Year’s after all, and people were out with their friends to have a good time; they weren’t really interested in chatting with the weird foreign girl dressed in black smoking cigars in the corner. But that’s okay. I found a spot where I was comfortable, and I was happy to sit there quietly and just watch the crowd.

Once it got to be about 9:00pm, it was time to move on. The place was getting too busy and too loud, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. At this point I just reconciled myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to go to a big party so I may as well just go back to my dorm. I felt a sense of shame going back to the hostel actually. Here I was in a foreign country; was I really not going to stay up until midnight to ring in the new year? No, no I was not. I had a shower and got into my bunk and as soon as I did that I knew that I had made the right decision. I was cozy and comfortable I watched a movie and fell asleep. I got to enjoy a bit of New Year’s revelry but was able to avoid the last few hours of drunken idiots and staying up late just for the sake of staying up.

The next morning, I woke up early. I think everyone in the hostel was asleep. Even the lobby was littered with the bodies of passed-out revellers. I arranged a taxi and headed back to the airport and back to Vancouver. It was a little less than 48 hours that I was in Dublin and, clearly, I need to return to see more of Ireland, but I was completely satisfied with the short visit that I had. Although I’m not sure that I would be eager to go and visit somewhere for New Year’s Eve again, it was a great way to start off 2024.

Europe Ireland

Arrival in Dublin

The way statutory holidays fell in December of 2023, it made it irresistibly easy to take a long weekend away. I had just spent four days in Iceland over Christmas. I then returned to work for four days before again turning to the airport to fly to Dublin for New Year’s Eve. At the time, this seemed like a brilliant idea although I must admit that flying back across to Europe only four days after having just returned was a bit gruelling. But none of that mattered of course once i was in Ireland for the first time. It seemed brilliant.

I left Vancouver flew to London where I had a short layover and then flew to Dublin. This was my first time in Ireland and I wouldn’t have very much time there at all so I had to make the most of it. I arrived at about 4:00 PM on December the 30th and went straight to my hostel. I was staying at the Jacobs Inn hostel in Dublin, which was a great location, a short walk from the centre of town and to almost everything that I wanted to visit.

I don’t know what accommodation prices are like at times other than New Year’s, but at New Year’s that was very expensive. I booked myself a part in it room of 10 pods for women and I think that little bunk bed cost me about $150.00 a night CDN. Fortunately, I was only going to be there for two nights. It was a great hostel, extremely well designed. My little bunk was so cozy and comfortable it had all the necessary amenities. I scarcely saw the other girls that I was sharing a room with.

By the time I got myself organized and went out, it was dark. I walked across the bridge towards the Temple Bar area. I know, it’s super touristy, but when you never been there before it seems like a logical place to start in the evening. On the way I was walking down a street that seemed entirely unremarkable, when I past my first Irish pub.

It was called the John Mulligan pub and its sign proclaimed that it had been in business since 1782. Good enough for me, I went inside. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. It was simple, cozy, and busy, but not too loud; everyone in there looked like a local and was having a good time chatting with each other. There were still Christmas decorations up. I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey. This is the part of the blog where I should tell you that I don’t drink beer so I did not consume any Guinness. This was strictly a whiskey trip. I do like whiskey, but I don’t tend to drink the Irish variety. For my two days in Dublin I would use my naivete as an ‘in’ to talking with locals and bartenders about their whiskeys and asking them what they recommended. That worked well in this instance, as soon I was deep in conversation with two local fellows. If that had been the only thing I did in Dublin I think I would have left perfectly satisfied it was a great experience.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I continued over to the Temple Bar area, where things were noticeably more crowded and louder. The streets were charming. Clearly, there touristy, but they were extremely appealing. Everything seemed so Irish. There were fiddle players and whiskeys and Guinnesses, old buildings, men in tweed, young drunken boys smoking cigarettes…it was exactly what you would expect and everything you would want. I went into the actual Temple Bar itself, and got myself a different type of whiskey and elbowed my way into the centre courtyard, which only had a partial roof so, technically, smoking was allowed. I smoke some cigarillos and sat down and took in the scene. A band was playing Irish music in the occasional Leonard Cohen song. The place was standing room only and everyone was having seemingly the time of their lives.

I took this photo (below), which I think is my favourite photo that I took from the entire time I was in Dublin. There’s just so much energy and although you can’t see many faces, those faces that are exposed are all exuberant. It was another perfect experience.

From there I walked around, I had a mediocre meal of something that I can no longer recall that involved potatoes, and I hit up another bar where I had a whiskey and a cigar on the patio. A few people chatted with me, most of them drunk, some of them flirtatious. It was all very enjoyable. It was a little on the cold side but it hardly mattered as I had several whiskeys now coursing through my body.

It was a wonderful introduction to Dublin. The next day, December the 31st, was my only full day in Dublin and I had a lot to accomplish. I was in bed by about 11:00 that first night and excited for the next day.

(Whenever anyone tells me that my occasional short trips overseas aren’t worth the time for money that it takes to do them, I point to experiences like this. While Dublin certainly deserves more of your time than an evening, in that one evening I had a wonderful, memorable experience and I was thankful that I had another day to follow: New Year’s Eve.)

*many of the buildings had lighting projections*

Europe Iceland

Christmas Day in Reykjavik

Christmas Eve was behind me and i was confronted with my final day in Iceland: Christmas Day. I have not travelled much at Christmas. It is not a cheap as I would like, and some destinations are overcrowded. That said, it is easy to take a long weekend off from work at the holidays, so it is a convenient time for a holiday. Having done it a couple of times now, I can say this: Christmas is a good time to travel, but it is best to avoid Christmas Day.

That said, Iceland does have some fascinating Christmas traditions. There are a group of mischievous fellows called the “Yule Lads” (really) and their raison d’être is performing naughty pranks and delivering gifts to good children by placing them in their shoes. Their mother is a troll names Grýla who collects bad children in a sack and boils them alive, presumably for consumption. And there is the Yule Cat who hunts down people who don’t get an item of new clothing for Christmas and eats them. The best tradition, however, is the ‘book flood’, according to which books are given as gifts on Christmas Eve and then the rest of the evening is spent reading. This sounds wonderful – and after all of the naughty children have been kidnapped and eaten there is certain to be lots of peace and quiet for reading. Of course, I was solo and had no one to exchange Yuletide books with, so I needed to fill Christmas Day a different way.

I was flying home from Reykjavik on Christmas Day, but not until the evening, so I had a day to fill. That was a bit of a struggle. It was dark and cold and almost everything was closed. I ended up spending about $75 CDN on a buffet meal at my hostel. The hostel did have a nice cozy feeling, but no one was particularly chatty, so I ate alone. I am normally happy to eat alone, but on this particular day, where everything seemed a bit depressing, I could have done with some company.

I went out and walked around to sights that I had not yet laid eyes on; things I could appreciate from the outside and walked aimlessly for a while.

I stopped and I had a cigar sitting on a bench outside a closed early that had left its lights on and its pink plastic Christmas tree up and had a cigar. It was so cold, but it felt a bit special.

I then killed some time at the Lebowski Bar, simply because it was open. There was only one other table occupied inside. It did have a cozy feeling and was playing Christmas music. I had a mulled wine and mulled over whether Christmas Day was a good day to be visiting anything.

Fortunately, by early evening it was time to return to the airport.

I loved my time in Reykjavik, but I kind of wished I had left late on Christmas Eve or early on Christmas Day, as the last day just felt like an expensive way of killing time. Lesson learned for the future: use Christmas Day as a day for long haul travel; not for sightseeing.

Despite this, Reykjavik had exceeded my expectations. I can’t stop thinking about its beauty and magic. I even find myself thinking about how relatively close it is to Vancouver and how it is kind of a perfect long weekend getaway. Maybe I will return to see it again – maybe in the summer – but in the meantime there are more new places to discover. Like Dublin, which I would fly to four days later.

Europe Iceland

Christmas Eve in Iceland

The day after my magnificent Golden Circle tour, I thought that maybe I would be disappointed with Reykjavik, but I had another excellent day. On my first day I had already seen most of the main sights that were on my list, the second day I saw spectacular snowy vistas, so the third day was an unstructured wander in Reykjavik. I strolled the city having leisurely coffees and stopping to explore new streets. It was still dark most of the day, but I was used to this already and was in the rhythm of Iceland’s short winter days.

Still in the dark, I walked to the National Museum of Iceland. Truthfully, if you aren’t a museum person or if you are lacking time, you could skip this museum, but I really enjoyed it. It had a nice collection of historical artifacts and more modern items from Iceland, including a few creepy items that I enjoyed.

Odds and Ends from the Museum

When I emerged from the museum, the sun was rising and I walked around a little, mostly frozen lake where a congress of waterfowl was floating. The sun, golden and reflecting on the ice, the little row of colorful houses, like exquisitely crafted confections, and the birds. It was magical.

I am aware that I am overusing the word “magical” in my Iceland posts, but it is just a magical place and no other word seems quite right.

It was now Christmas Eve, and most businesses and attractions were closing at noon or 2pm or thereabouts and would have found myself without much to do, had I not booked myself on to a Folklore Walking Tour. Just as it sounds, it is a walking tour that tells the tales of Iceland’s rich history of folklore and ‘hidden creatures’. Iceland has a rich tradition of elves, fairies, ogres, and monsters of various kinds. Most countries do, I suppose, but in Iceland, they traditions seem to have carried on into the present. While it seems that most people do not still believe in such creatures or magic, some still do, and many of the non-believers seem to have adopted a ‘better safe than sorry’ attitude. As we walked Reykjavik on the tour we were told stores of ancient creatures and magic, but also about how certain rocks or trees, believed to house elves or similar folk, have been left intact when road or other construction would otherwise have eradicated them. The result is a perfectly straight road taking a bizarre turn around a collection of rocks so as not to disturb them or those that may live beneath. And there were tales of construction projects being mysteriously interfered with until the enchanted place was spared.

Of course I don’t live my life believing in such things, but I want so much for some fantastical creature to be real that I was as delighted by the stories as the children who were on the tour. It was a lot of fun.

But then the tour was over. It was again dark, and most things were closed. I decided to call it an early night and went back to my hostel to sleep.

The next day was Christmas and the day I would fly home.

Assorted Reykjavik photos from my day

Europe Iceland

Reykjavik in December

I knew I would go to Iceland eventually, but it was not a place I was excited to go. People seemed so enthusiastic about it, and I never understood why. It is a mostly outdoorsy place, and I am a mostly indoorsy person. It does look beautiful, but I thought, “What, I’m going to go to Iceland to look at a green, treeless expanse? And then what?” But the eventuality came about in December as I decided to go away for four days over Christmas and Iceland was the best option.

Practicalities

A few practicalities: Reykjavik is a surprisingly short flight from Vancouver; about 7 hours direct. Vancouver is so far away from most other countries than anything less than 9 hours seems short. There were no visa requirements places on my Canadian passport. Iceland is an easy place to visit. Credit cards are accepted widely so you don’t really need cash (which is a bit of a shame as their currency – Icelandic króna – is beautiful. While the national language is Icelandic, most people (at least in Reykjavik) speak English as well. The buses are easy to navigate and there is a good tourist infrastructure.

Iceland may be easy to visit, but it is not cheap. While there are some cheaper options farther away from the centre of Reykjavik, I wanted to be central and paid about $150 CDN/night for a prison style bunkbed at the Kex Hostel. (The Kex Hostel is nice and cozy, but it is expensive, and the rooms are basic. I.e. no curtains on the bunks and no clever amenities). Food was also super expensive. Like a drip coffee at a café was about $7 CDN and a terrible pre-made sandwich from a supermarket was about $20 CDN. It’s doable, but I was definitely glad that I brought protein bars with me.

I can’t say that I went to Iceland for Christmas and not mention the weather. Of course it was cold, but not prohibitively cold in Reykjavik when I was there. No colder than -10C. I didn’t need special clothes; I just wore my usual Vancouver winter clothes but with an extra layer. I did arrive without a toque however – like a fool, I brought only a jaunty beret and that was a mistake. I bought a woolly toque on my first day to keep my head from freezing. Oh, and I brought a bunch of those chemical hand warmer things, which was a good thing.

Exploring Reykjavik

I arrived in Reykjavik at 6am after a red-eye flight from Vancouver. On the way, my seat mate nudged me awake to see the northern lights. Subtly green, but they were there. It would, unfortunately, be the only time I saw them on my trip to Iceland, as it was cloudy the whole time.

I went straight to my hostel and dropped off my bag and went off to explore. It was dark. It was dark most of the time I was there because, well, it was at the time of the year when the days are shortest. The sun rose at about 11:20am and set again at 3:30pm; barely peeking above the horizon. This meant that most of my sightseeing was in the dark, which is definitely a different experience. I live in Vancouver, and I wake up at 4am, so going out before the sun is up is a familiar experience, but not for sightseeing, and I had never experienced such few hours of daylight each day. It was weird. It was unsettling. I loved it. It made everything feel special. It was, in fact, one of many of the things that I loved about Iceland.

Good morning, Reykjavik!

I walked the dark streets. There were patches of crunchy snow, which made everything feel brighter. It was December 22^nd, so the buildings were decorated with tasteful strings of Christmas lights. The first thing I noticed (apart from the darkness and cold) was that the buildings are a distinctive style: two-story, colourful buildings with pointy roofs and corrugated metal exterior walls painted bright colours. A pleasing aesthetic like that in Greenland and Newfoundland.

I stopped at the locally popular Braud & Co., which was just opened, and bought a fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll; part sweet treat and part handwarmer.

*my favourite of Reykjavik’s street art murals*

more street art

I took in several intriguing street murals and found my way to the intersection of Reykjavik’s two most famous sights: The Hallgrimskirkja and Rainbow Street. The Hallgrimskirkja is a Lutheran church built in 1937 in a striking style design to resemble Iceland’s mountains and glaciers. If you’ve ever googled Reykjavik, you’ve seen it. It is impressive. At night it is imposing and illuminated. By day light it is stark and pristine. There’s nothing exciting about the interior, but the view from the lookout, which I returned to do at daylight, is spectacular.

Rainbow Street (really Skólavörðustígur) is a main commercial and Instagram-famous street that starts, or ends, at the square in front of the Hallgrimskirkja. I walked down the street and popped into the Café Babalú for a coffee and to warm up.

*me on Rainbow Street after the sun was up*

While I loved the magic of Iceland in the winter, the downside is that I needed to patronize frequently cafes for warmth and rest. In the summer, you might take a break from your walking by sitting outdoors on a bench for free, but in the winter, you want to be inside and inside costs money. Those expensive café visits really add up. Nevertheless, Café Babalú was charming and oh so cozy; filled with cute and nostalgic bric-a-brac.

I walked and wandered until the contemporary art museum opened: the Reykjavík Art Museum Hafnarhús. Admission was about $25CDN and worth every penny. It was an excellent and not overly large modern art museum in a curious building that looks like an origami-folded newspaper.

When I exited the museum, the sun had risen and Reykjavik was revealed. I had to retrace my steps to see all the same buildings and murals by day. The real highlight was that I could see the ocean. Reykjavik is right on the coast and many of the streets appear to disappear right into icy blue water. In the distance…an island? A chunk of ice? A glacier? It looked different to anything I had seen.

I walked to the Reykjavík Art Museum Kjarvalsstaðir, which was included with my ticket to the first one. Another good museum, and the walk was stunning.

I continued my walk to the Asmundur Sveinsson Sculpture Museum, also included with my ticket I bought to the first museum. Here’s the thing, I actually did not like any of the sculptures inside this museum (with apologies to Ásmundur Sveinsson), but one of the ones outside were interesting, set against the snow, but the real draw was the building itself, which is just very cool. It was designed by Sveinsson and was his home and studio prior.

By the time I walked back to central back to central Reykjavik, it was dark again and I was feeling pleased. Reykjavik is small and I had seen much of what I wanted to see, but fortunately I had more time to explore, because there was more terrific stuff ahead.

Smoking Cigars in Reykjavik

On that first night, I found a place to smoke a cigar before I bunked down in my hostel.

Smoking in Reykjavik is banned everywhere indoors. I chatted with the proprietor of a cigar store there and they confirmed this. Not even a secret cigar lounge, but smoking is allowed on patios – Hooray! But it was winter and very cold, and most patios were not open. It seems that not a lot of people smoke, so they didn’t have the whole heated patio, cozy blanket set up. Fortunately, I found a café / bookstore / live music venue on Laugavegur street: Hús máls og menningar. It is a cool place inside, but outside, they have a small wooden patio, slightly sheltered and with a heater. I hunkered down there and had a Quai D’Orsay with a negroni. When my cigar smoking hand started to freeze, I switched hands. Totally worth it.

me with a cigar, braving the cold

My first day in Reykjavik was a success, I thought as I snuggled under heavy blankets in my hostel bunkbed. But the best was yet to come. The next day I would leave the comforts of Reykjavik for a day trip into the countryside.

Europe United Kingdom Zimbabwe-Zambia 2023

London Layover: Notting Hill

At the end of my trip to Zimbabwe and Zambia, I flew home to Vancouver from Lusaka via London. I had about an 8-hour layover and, as is my preference, there was no way I was going to spend that time at the airport.

I’ve written a lot of posts about my layovers in London. I’ve even gone into the city with as little as a 5-hour layover and it’s always been worth my time. I’ll say what I’ve said before, which is to make the most of a layover in London a few things are really helpful: if you’re a carry-on luggage person like I am, quickly stash your bag at the left luggage office at the airport. I always take the Heathrow Express into London – with a short layover, there’s no time to be messing around with any other form of transportation. I pre-buy my tickets for the Heathrow Express so I don’t have to stop and buy them on arrival; I just have the ticket on my phone and scan it and get right onto the train.

I usually have some kind of an idea about what I want to do. Sometimes I just go and smoke cigars on Saint James Street, other times I’ll pick a specific museum, or an area that I want wander around in. This time, I decided to visit Notting Hill. Upon arrival at Paddington Station, I took the tube to Notting Hill Gate. (I could have walked, but I didn’t have an abundance of time.)

I don’t think I had been to Notting Hill since I lived in London many years ago (and well before that movie was out). It was a delightful place to spend some time walking around. I was there too early to enjoy the market, but I walked the streets and enjoyed the colourful buildings and stopped and had several coffees, which were necessary after my red eye flight from Lusaka. London is truly one of my favourite places in the world and I will never miss an opportunity to visit it. It was a perfect end to my trip.