I'll start: Went in a pottery shop in Coimbra - there was a cat sleeping on top of a giant roll of bubble wrap.
While wending through Venice, came across a young man playing the lute very beautifully - when he finished, was very gracious about answering my questions about the lute.
Your turn.
Great idea! Walking back to room one night in Assisi, heard piano music. Wandered down the lane and came across a musical recital with children playing the piano. Took a seat in the back and enjoyed the impromptu concert!
not sure if this is truly "lovely", but it was low-key and warm in its way....
I boarded a subway car in Seoul and grabbed a seat for the long ride...the car fills up, with an old man on my left and a young man on my right (I'm not really "old", but I'm much closer to old than young)...a little old lady boards, looks around for a seat, then resigns herself to standing for the duration...I stand up and gesture - "here is a seat for you"... she gestures - "thank you, no, I couldn't take your seat from you"...I gesture - "please, I insist"...she smiles, bows and takes the seat...I return the bow [I never figured out proper bowing protocol, but I still when ahead and bowed when it seemed fitting - I don't think I ticked anyone off]...the old man on the left nods approvingly...and then the young man stands up and offers me his seat, which prompted a slight chuckle from the old man...smiles and bows all around
OK, a lovely experience with a humourous twist. We were staying at a resort in Tropea, Calabria. A British couple we met at the resort invited us to join them in attending an afternoon recital of university music students, one playing violin and one piano. The venue was an deconsecrated church, lovely and serene. As it isn't used very often, a pair of pigeons were nesting on a column inside the church. The pianist began to play, the pigeons began to fly and the black-suited music page turner received an ariel deposit on his black-clad shoulder. Amidst a few quiet snickers, he calmly continued to turn the pages until the performance was completed and the pair left the stage. The pigeons meanwhile continued to fly overhead making us all a little nervous. Upon returning, he had removed his jacket and continued to turn the pages until the concert was complete. Besides ourselves, the rest of the audience was family and friends of the performers. They were very welcoming to us and we were very glad that we attended.
We popped into a church in Lucerne to look around and there was a mass going on. As we quietly stood in the lobby a group of horn players tootled a brief piece of music up near the altar. Goosebump time.
Got up early in Bacharach and walked down by the Rhine as the sun came up one late September morning. Crisp air, sublime beauty, the only sound the water heading downstream.
I was in Ventimiglia, It for the night. I wandered around and came upon some heavy equipment hauling sand out of the mouth of the creek there as it runs into the Med. I sat down and watched the operation for half an hour. It was mesmerizing.
Walking around Dam Square in Amsterdam and wandered off on a side street. Saw two of those 'living statue' performers taking a break, sitting around on a stoop in all their makeup and costume and having a smoke and a beer, everyone deserves a break. We smiled at each other and I asked if it was ok to take a picture - still one of my favorite impromptu moment photos.
My husband & I were taking the train to Caen after landing in Paris. A mother and her 2 year old daughter were seated in the row in front of us. Her daughter would turn around during the journey, so my husband was entertaining her. As they left for their stop, the little girl gave us a sweet & proper "au revoir". it made us smile to hear some of our first French words from a two-year old.
Another lovely moment, over an hour, was my chance to return to the MusΓ©e de l'Orangerie earlier this year. A work trip itinerary was changed last-minute, so I was able to go to Paris for a day - a lovely experience as a whole! I sat in the two Monet oval displays at the MusΓ©e de l'Orangerie for at least 30 minutes each and was able to really experience the feel of the paintings including "What would I hear in that setting?" "What would it smell like?", etc. It was a very special, lovely individual low-key moment that I've treasured.
I have two that stick with me.
The first was in 2006, in Ireland. My son and I were touring Kylemore Abbey. It was February, and the only tourists besides ourselves at the time were a young couple from Boston. As we rounded a corner in the house, we heard a choir singing. It was the school choir, practicing. The sign on the door said "private" so we could not go in and see the singers, but we all stood silent in the hall until the piece was over. It just added a wonderful touch to a very special day on our trip.
The second was in April 2010, in Spain. The friend I was visiting said he had a surprise for me - we were going horseback riding in the Picos de Europa national park. I was a bit reluctant - I have never been a horse fan. We drove way up into the park, to a little village where we met our guide. We then spent a couple of glorious hours riding up and down the hills and enjoying the scenery and the quiet. When I asked my friend what he was thinking about, he said, "Next time, we will come in the fall." Uh....not sure that is going to happen, but I might consider it.
We took a solitary hike up form Vernazza, Italy, to the Santuario di Nostra Signora di Reggio, high above. We saw maybe two people in 60+ minutes of hiking up. At the top, we found a serene, shaded overlook to the Mediterranean and a woman alone calmly enjoying her lunch as she surveyed the scene. No cars, no other hikers, no noise except the wind. What a place to recover from a steep hike!
On one of our first trips to France, my husband and I stopped for lunch at a small restaurant. (Can't remember which town). At another table were an older couple with their much loved dog, who was sitting upright on a chair at the table. We found this so charming that we asked if we could take a photo. Permission was granted enthusiastically at which point the gentleman whipped off his eye glasses and put them on his dog. The photo of the bespectacled and dignified dog is one of my favourites.
Walking up that long bridge, uphill, to Civita di Bangnoregio to violin music played by an older gentleman at the gate to the town. So very few people, great scenery, and that lovely music drawing me onward. He received a 5 euro tip.
We were cycling on the Loire valley, basing ourselves in Onzain. We had eaten three nights in row at a little restaurant in Chaumont. It transitioned from a bar to restaurant at 7:00, so when we arrived about 6:50, we waited on a bench outside. At 7, the owner came to the door, turned the sign to closed. He noticed us sitting there and asked 'what do you want to eat tonight?' and motioned us in. They fixed us dinner in the closed restaurant.
Last year my husband & I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary with a trip to London & Paris. Our days were so full with seeing all the sights that at first I had trouble remembering any lovely, low-key moments but in London we went to Westminster Abbey and as we were leaving, they had an area roped off. My husband asked why & was told it was for a midday worship service and we were welcome to attend if we wanted to. It was a very short service with communion. Of course we did. It was one of the highlights of our stay in London.
In Paris, we were riding the Metro to who knows where one evening and were almost alone on the train, which in itself was very unusual. My husband looked over & saw our reflections in the glass across the aisle and saw a photo opp. He told me to look tired, which was not very difficult as I was very tired at that point. The picture he took is one of my favorites of us in Paris.
We also met a young girl that lived in an apartment above ours & it was a joy getting to know her one evening. She wrote out a list of local restaurants she recommended as well as took us on a tour of the St Germain neighborhood, pointing out the highlights, stopping at a chocolat shop & buying us a little treat and finally we went to dinner with her at Restaurant Polidor, which is featured in the movie Midnight in Paris. It was a really lovely evening.
My flight to Tegucigalpa had been delayed and by the time I got to the hotel I was starved. I asked the hotel manager if there were something good close by. The directions were a little confusing so I invited her. 6 months later I married her. We've been married 22 years.
A few Decembers ago, I was taking a Sunday stroll in Oberbozen, above Bolzano, Sudtirol. It was a bright sunny day, though the ground was covered with fresh snow. I walked past a home where a man was shoveling snow off his path. He greeted me and instantly discerned that I was a visitor. He asked if I were Italian, and I answered No, American, all this in simple German.
He then asked what was an American woman doing in Oberbozen speaking in a Bavarian accent? I was thrilled. I had done a junior year abroad in Munich in the 70s. So, while my vocabulary is relatively light now, apparently I still have the accent I learned all those years ago. I spent the rest of the trip beaming.
What a wonderful group of true stories - thank you! Hoping for more!
To clarify my post, many places have a 'quiet day'., that is they are closed. The restaurant had a 'quiet evening', which was the night in question. Oddly enough, it was Friday, an odd night not to be open.
We had taken a gondola up a mountain for a short hike in Dachstein, Austria. We decided to stop in a hilltop cafe for an afternoon coffee. A group of 70-ish year old women were seated next to us drinking their wine and having conversation. Then, quietly, they all started to sing. After their song they continued to drink their wine and about 10 minutes later, another song. We listened to three songs while we were seated next to them. My husband turned to them and said, "beautiful", and they all laughed. Between our limited German and their limited English we learned that they were singing about friendship.
There have been so many of these but one which comes immediately to mind: In 2013 we were in Sicily and had tried to visit Chiesa St. Francesco in Palermo but it was always closed. One day we saw it was opened and went inside. It was opened because there was to be a wedding there later in the day and the violinist and organist were practicing Pachelbel's Canon. There was only one other couple there. The combination of that music in that setting was especially beautiful and meaningful.
I am the most fanatical of fans when it comes to the movie The Third Man and my love for it was the inspiration to finally visit Vienna this past August where I sought out many locations in the film and just basked in the glory of that lovely city. The only thing missing, in my mind, was the marvellous zither music from the movie, so I was beyond thrilled when the Third Man walking tour ended at the Harry Lime Door on Schreyvogelgasse and waiting for us was a young man playing the theme song on a zither--everything came together perfectly for me.
Another sublime musical moment happened on the same trip in Budapest; it was just twilight and I had returned from my walk over Szabadsag hid, not yet ready to return to my hotel as the evening air was so soft and beautiful and I was feeling very content so I sat for a very long time on a bench in Fovam ter, people-watching and admiring the ornate old buildings and listening to two men play wonderful gypsy jazz on their guitars a la Django Reinhardt.
Well lets see..
In Turkey me and my family were walking in a town( cant remember where) and a young girl comes up to us and asks us if she could speak english with us. The kid was with her monther and had an assignment where the she and to record her speaking english with other english speakers. We sat down and talked to her for a few minutes. It was fun and i hoped we helped with her assignment. I was a fun way to rest for a momment on our trip.
What immediately came to mind wa a sunny day in the hills above Ullapool. We stopped in the heather for some lunch and all three of us fell asleep in the heather. We walked back down and had a snack at The Ceilidh Place. It was a lovely day.
More greats! So many have to do with music - must really be the universal language. Many of the stories lend themselves to having songs written about them, particularly the one about falling asleep in the heather above Ullapool....
A lot of my moments have come thru our use (both hosting and being hosted) of couchsurfing. We have met some great people and some of our favourite moments were the unexpected spontaneous ones - our host in Amblie, France who took us to the WW2 beaches and the Canadian cemetery at Benys-sur-Mer and waited until we got back from Mont St Michel to share a (really late - like 9pm) supper of roast stew; a couple in Bern who took us on a lovely hike (our first time on a ski lift!) and prepared am amazing meal with homemade bread; a wonderful hostess in Augsburg, Germany, who spent most of the day showing us around and was so nice that we stayed in Augsburg until after supper because her company was so enjoyable (to the detriment of Munich, where we had been going to head to first thing that morning). The host in Genoa who walked us around the waterfront at night, pointing out the fishing boats...just the moments of meeting someone new, connecting with them, eating the lovely meals they prepared, going 'off-reservation' so to speak and doing unplanned things with these people who were total strangers yet opened up their homes and lives to us - total strangers...and I hope that the 50+ people we have hosted over the years have some good memories of staying with us.
A fairly warm spring day. There is this little butcher shop on one of the side streets of the Hungarian National Opera House. They have outrageous sausage served by an outrageous gentleman with a very large knife. Anyway; you order your link then stand at a table outside on the sidewalk to eat it. The Opera House isnt air conditioned so on warm days the windows are open as you would imagine. A beautiful spring afternoon, great sausage and sounds of opera performers practicing. Pretty nice lunch.
My first europe trip in 1995 had a notebook full of low key memorable moments. One, particularly now in my slow walking, hardly doing a stair step up ever without stress current mode, is a sharp-edged memory of a climb to the top of St Peter's in Rome. It was a late afternoon, with a crystal clear blue sky. Most travelers had already left the huge church but I wanted to the see the city view from up high and watch the amazing flocks of birds swirling around the dome. As I prepared to walk down, three men slowly approached the viewpoint completing the last few steps. Two men had a third, their friend I soon learned, held firmly in their grips, helping to lift him to the top step and balcony. The three men, the two on either side still holding the third reached the viewpoint. All three were drenched in sweat. As the middle man leaned again a wall, viewing the awesome city sight, one man glanced at me, nodded, and said "excuse us," I believed in Italian. Using a RS book phrase I said I didn't speak their language. The man switched smoothly to english and explained. They now helped their friend up the stairs once a month to his favorite city sight, in good weather like today.
Just as if it was like aiding someone cross a street, or up a porch step. As I knew then it was a whole lot more. I realize it even more now, that I could never make such a climb by myself now.
I'm a tile nut. Seeing the Tile Museum in Lisbon was a must when we visited there the 1st week of June, 2011.
We arrived late in the day -- our usual MO -- just about an hour before closing. The woman who greeted us seemed very pleased to see us and invited us to a special event being held in the church. (The museum is housed in a former convent building.) She said the event would start just after closing.
We saw the church early as part of our visit to the museum and were a little confused about the large sea creatures being put in the altar area and the big speakers being set up along the walls. When we got back to the entrance for the event, there were kids in a line dressed in costumes from a variety of countries. Even some dressed as beings from outer space.
We managed to barely get inside and stand in the back. It was packed with the families of the kids and strictly SRO. The event turned out to be a processional representing different countries presenting themselves to King Neptune at the front. They walked all the way from the back to the front. After meeting him, they gathered behind him while other kids took their turns.
As the kids walked toward him, music from their "countries" played and they often danced or sang along. We learned that all the kids were from a school where mentally and physically challenged kids were mainstreamed with kids that did not have those difficulties.
Many of the country representations were stereotypical, but all were charming. The US was represented by kids dressed as Native Americans. As deduced by the amount of applause and shouts, they were very popular.
But the absolute favorites were those who represented Mexico. People clapped along with the music as well as for the group. That was especially fun for us because we live about 30 miles north of the border between AZ and Sonora.
We only got to have such a totally unexpected, fun, local family experience because that very nice museum employee invited us.
Great topic. Reading about others' "moments" brought back many of my own. Connections with people, lovely views, moments of feeling to have traveled to the past, surprise events, witnessing religious celebrations, all were enjoyed because I was present to my surroundings and life.
Thanks for starting this topic! I've really enjoyed reading this short snippets which bring reminders of so many more.
Did everyone notice that almost all of these special moments involved no crowds & minimal expense?
Some of these stories have gotten me all verklempt, particularly James meeting his wife by such extreme chance, the French cemetery, the women singing songs of friendship, the friends helping their friend ascend St. Peter's...
Verklempt? Please to explain.
When my son was small we took the TGV from Paris to Montpellier. Once we were seated we started looking around at who was seated around us. Directly across the aisle was a woman with a turtle on her lap. She was petting it and talking to it like it was a cat which of course caught my son's attention immediately! My 8 year old, uninhibited as children are, went right over to her and she started telling him all about her "tortue" in French. My son learned the French word for turtle that day and has never forgotten it!
'Verklempt' - a Yiddish term meaning 'choked up with emotion'.
Last night I packed my bags to go to Budapest..........
well, this didn't happen in Europe, but it did have a Euopean feel, and it was quite lovely.....
I was at a one morning campgound in North Carolina or Tennessee waiting for some friends to pick me up to go paddle the Nolichucky. At one end of the camp office was a little "diner" where they sold bagels, juice, etc. While waiting for their "egg mcmuffins" , these two pretty young women were singing a nice version of Frere Jacques. When the song and sandwiches were done, the guy at the counter didn't charge them, stating that anyone who sang a song in a foreign language got a free sandwich. I couldn't resist the opportunity, so I sang a bad version of La Cucaracha (I did know all the words, though) and "earned" a "mcmuffin" of my own. And then....
..another pretty young woman delivered an achingly beautiful song in Welsh! When she finished, everyone in earshot applauded.
Twenty years later and I still regret not asking the name of the song...
Our most memorable evening in Switzerland was spent in Wengen. On a cool mid October evening, just before sunset, we walk a paved "road" following the length of the valley from Wengen. We came across a bench to sit on. We sat there with a view of the valley way below, the snow capped alpine peaks surrounding us, the setting sun creating an orange glow on the peaks and there was complete silence. Complete, except for the sound of a few cowbells off in the distance. Simply magical.
I have a non-European story also. I was visiting Monhegan Island, Maine, which at the time had a population of deer (they're gone now, but that's a different story). These deer were not shy. At one point I was alone in the wilderness, climbing a rocky trail up to one of the bluffs. Heard a sneeze. Reflexively said "Gesundheit!". Turned around - it was a deer, about four feet away. When back in town, saw a deer in someone's yard, moseying among the lawn chairs. Took a picture, sat down to change film. Felt someone chewing on my hair. Turned around - you guessed it, it was the deer. There was a buck who routinely went stomping through town in broad daylight. I was sitting in a cafe, and heard some of the local folks having a naming contest for him. 'Mel' seemed to be winning.
Some that stick out:
Walking to the Augustiner brewery in Salzburg for dinner from the other side of the river. I was about half way across a walking bridge and looked back at the old center. Lit up at night, it was maybe the most beautiful view anywhere.
Walking back streets in Venice at night, completely quiet except for the lapping of the waves on the buildings.
Walked into the main church in Bonn (mid-day, mid-week, mid-October), no one in the place except the choir practicing.
At Burg Stahleck, the only people on the outside deck, overlooking the Rhein, that evening were my family and a choir group from Speyer (better than 50 people) on their annual retreat. They started singing.
The treasures room at British Library. Only a handful of people in the room viewing the awe-inspiring, priceless collection.
On the south canal in Dublin. People were taking a canal barge through the locks, they needed some extra muscle so I pitched in. Another older man also helped. We got to talking. I asked if he'd been to the U.S. Yes, he visited Washington DC once, when he was a cadet at the Irish military academy. He marched in JFK's funeral procession.
I'm always a little emotional this time of year, and this thread has sent me right over the top. James, the story of how you met your wife had me grabbing the kleenex. All of these experiences have sent my imagination in to overdrive. My favorite low-key moments from my 2014 travels: in the small town of Plockton, Scotland during our after dinner stroll to the waterfront we heard traditional music and came upon a small ceilidh for a local sailing club. We listened to the music as the sun set. In the Portobello neighborhood of Edinburgh, as we were finishing dinner my husband asked me "what day is this?" I said, "Thursday, why?" He pointed to a ceiling beam that had Trivia Night, Thursday at 8:00 written on it. We stayed and had the best time being the Yanks in last place. Finally, at the British Museum, Ed couldn't take any more culture and went outside for a break. When I finally emerged, he told me he had just had the most delightful interview by a group of French teenagers who asked him if they could practice their English. Cheers!
A 40 minute sleigh ride in the Swiss Alps with a wonderful girl I had met. Nothing but the sound of the horse and sleigh on a full moon winter night in the alps. Long time ago but still remember how beautiful it was.
A late afternoon walk, passagiata, in Venice along the water with many locals. I can hear the children on their scooters and feel the sun.
Sunsets everywhere...while viewing the Eiffel tower, over the Mediterranean in France, overlooking the River in Florence.
The lights of monuments.....Notre-Dame Cathedral, Eiffel Tower, St. mark's Square.
The markets, fresh food, proud producers & artisans. The scents, the color, the sounds of the sellers.
Thank you for this lovely topic.
It was January 1975 and I was about at the end of my two year tour of duty in Germany in the US Air Force.We had gotten married a couple of months before I left for Europe in Feb 1973. So I have always called our first European trip our 2 year honeymoon in Europe courtesy to my "Uncle Sam".
Before we headed back to the world of the "round doorknobs" we took one last trip. It was a train trip to Italy. We left Germany on an overnight train. And arrived in MIlano the next morning after a very long night in a couchette. (This is when I decided to never again take an overnight train.) Not very comfortable and we did not get very much sleep. After we arrived in MIlano we took the next train to Venice. So we arrived in Venice as very tired, confused and young American tourists. This was way before Rick's books but we had our Europe on $15 a day. And we were following its maps to where we thought our hotel would be located. So for those of you have been to Venice you know the path from the train station to St Mark's square is long and confusing walk. So here we are dragging our probably too large and too heavy suitcases through the streets of Venice. Then all of a sudden we come to St Mark's square and as we walk into the square one of the dueling orchestras began to play a waltz. WOW!!!!! What a great musical background to hear the first time you enter one of the greatest iconic places in Italy.
I have been back many times and each time I remember as I walk into the square the extra magical first time entrance onto St Mark's square on that cold, crisp but sunny day in 1975. I can still hear that music playing in my mind.
There are so many and yet I can only think of one right now!
In June of 2004 we were on a science trip to Poland (long back story not necessary). Leaving the University of Warsaw in the late afternoon we found the school choir practising. We stopped to listen. It was their end of year practice and BBQ. They invited us to join them and we enjoyed several hours of conversation with a bunch of young Poles about to graduate Uni only a few weeks after they joined the EU. The positivity and happiness for their future was palpable. And their beautiful Polish food was given to us unreservedly.
They invited us back to their dorm for the following night's end-of-year party. We declined and how I wish we had gone, even if at 34 we would have been the oldest in attendance!
Another one for me.
1976, I was 23 and hitch-hiking around Europe. I met this woman from Brazil in the Bern Hostel, we really hit it off ..........
What a delightful thread! It's these little moments that provide such big memories.
Venice: Turning a corner onto a secluded piazza, finding an elderly man sporting a baseball cap, belting out Vivaldi beautifully in front of the church steps.
Lucern: The imagery of this 12 year old at night, snuggling under an eiderdown, windows thrust open to beckon the crisp air of the Alps. ....30 years later, doing it again and having the same sensation. Thankfully, nothing had changed.
Assisi, very, very early in the morning, and having the entire lower church of the Basilica of St. Francis to myself for over an hour. And on the walk across town to get there, listening the pigeons that were nesting in holes in the walls of the buildings waking up⦠remarkably peaceful and calming cooing.
More loveliness! Thank you! I've got a couple of Tales of Amtrak - back in February, I was traveling from New York City to North Carolina. In the club car, a man was cutting copies of old family photos, on pink, pale purple, and peach-colored paper, into heart shapes, using the train window as a light box to line everything up. He was making a Valentine's collage for his recently-widowed mother. Also on the train, a couple of elderly gentlemen were sitting together having the most wonderful conversation for hour after hour, mile after mile. All of us around them assumed that they'd been dear friends for decades, but it turned out they had just met on the train that morning.
After a long day visiting the lakeside villages of Lake Garda, my elderly mom & I were walking away from the ferry dock in Peschiera & were looking for a restaurant that someone on the ferry boat had recommended to us but we didn't find it. We decided to walk to the train station but didn't really know where it was since we had taken the bus from Verona.
We were tired & just wanted to go back to our hotel room. There was a group of 4 young teen girls walking toward us & I decided to ask them for directions to the restaurant & they pointed in the direction we had just been... I asked for directions to the train station & they conversed among themselves then announced to us that they would take us there because it was easier than giving directions. I learned that 2 of the young ladies were taking Spanish in school & we talked in Spanish all the way to the train station. It was such a sweet & kind gesture for these young ladies to take their time to walk with us all the way to the train station. My mom & I were very grateful to them!
Inbsig,
Thank you for starting this post! I've enjoyed reading all the wonderful posts!
Happy Chanukah! Merry Christmas! Happy Kwanzaa!
And Happy Holidays to all of you!
I traveled northern Italy and Slovenia this summer with my 3 friends; we have celebrating an annual get together for 22 years now. we had a large and lovely noon meal at the restaurant at the top of Bled Castle, finished walking around the lake and back up the hill to our accommodation, mulej tourist farm. all told we walked more than 10 miles, the last 5 I was carrying a bottle of wine in my hand I bought at the castle. "supper" that night was the wine, sipped in the glasses from our room that other tourists might view as vessels only for tooth brushing. One friend dug the last of the granola bars from her carryon, another had some almonds, and the last some chocolates. it was the most memorable meal of the trip, sitting on the patio at the farm, talking to their cats, telling stories and watching the light change on the mountains.
Priscilla,
I had similar in Moselkern. I got off the train at the same time as a bunch of schoolkids. I asked for directions to the trail head to Burg Eltz. They said, "We'll show you," and walked with me to the start of the trail.
This has been such a great read! Thank you for the happy hour I've just spent enjoying all of your stories!
I vividly remember a couple of pints outside a London pub in the company of a Welsh gentleman by the name of Anthony Hopkins - who, BTW, went to grammar school with the Sir of the same name. He gave us a wonderful little lesson on the history of Wales over a delightful couple of hours. We kept his glass full for as long as possible to keep the stories flowing!
And an impromptu dance with the DH one balmy night in Piazza della Repubblica, Florence to a terrific jazz quartet. And the kindly waiter at the bar in a Rome hotel who cheerfully gave me a nightly Italian lesson (and never laughed ONCE). Funny how the moments which were not on the itinerary are often the ones which end up nearest to our hearts?
My first visit to Rome and to the huge theater built by Vespasian was in 1995 and included happy views of the many cats who then inhabited the stone monument. My pictures show them sprawled on ledges and steps awaiting somebody with a handout, or an unwary rodent lunch. Believe my next visit found no cats, and rumors of city catchers with bad intent rounding up the felines. I liked the cats, who probably were difficult, but they were a sharp memory I miss.
Larry, on your next trip to Rome visit the Largo di Torre Argentina and visit the Gatti di Roma. Go down the stairs, if the gate is open, in the South West corner. Wonderful experience if you are worried about the gatti.
On our honeymoon in Italy, it was during a busy day of my new husband's first time to Rome that I wanted to show him Fra Angelico's tomb in Santa Maria sopra Minerva. We walked in to the nearly-empty church off the crowded, hectic streets and the crush of tourists in front of the Pantheon to what we thought was piped-in a cappella choir music.
As we got closer to the alter (where his tomb is), there was the full, live choir practicing. All in their street clothes with bags and purses at their feet, with the most amazing voices I've heard in a long time. We just sat down and listened to the entire rehearsal, tears in our eyes, and realized how Rome hides these small, beautiful experiences in plain sight.
Thanks Allora! Since I saw the Fra Angelico frescos at the Museo San Marco last summer, and since I am an avid choir singer, your story has me going on all cylinders. And Larry, I'm trying to type this despite having a formerly stray cat sitting on top of me.
We had traveled to a small village in the Peloponnese for a month. My daughter was only 3 months old and the village girls were enchanted with her, asking to hold her every evening when we went to eat at the local restaurant. We sat together on the beach and attempted to chat with each other as some of them were learning English. I can't remember how they found out that I was having a birthday, but on that evening when we went to the restaurant all the village girls came with small bouquets of flowers that I am sure they plucked from the family garden. Then they sang Happy Birthday to me. I had tears in my eyes, I was so touched by this warm and unexpected celebration.
We didn't see Athens, nor any of the many wonderful ruins of Greece, but I hold such fond memories of our month there due to the friendliness and warmness of the people. For me, that is experiencing a country.
Walking through the small, twisting alleys of Luxembourg City late at night, and happening upon a live band (maybe 20 people in the audience). We stayed for a while to listen.
A full double rainbow (end to end) in Denali National Park this last summer. The most beautiful part of the world I have ever seen!
I've updated this with newly found information*
In Munich we stumbled upon a beer garden called Augustiner-Keller. http://www.augustinerkeller.de/restaurant/der-lagerkeller/?L=1
We walked in and there were several open tables among the locals (Later discovered by looking at website that is "the Hall") and we thought they would seat us there. She didn't. She walked us to a back room that was empty. It was strange. (later determined to be the Festaal)
I got up shortly thereafter to see about sitting with the locals when i noticed a door....i motioned my wife to follow as it appeared to go to a "bar area" in the basement. (You can see a pic of the door to the "Lagerkeller" to the right in The Hall)
It was a spiral stair case down to the Lagerkeller. Very narrow. I followed it down and down and down. At the bottom was a closed door. I kind of panicked and started back up. Something made me stop and test the door. I was actually a bit scared.
Once the door opened, it was a massive underground bar. Lots of tables. We sat down, not many people were there. We had a drink with an Asian man. Turns out to be from Hawaii. His wife was the head of Hawaii tourism bureau and he followed her around the world and entertained himself while she was "working"
The place filled up. Asian guy left and unbelievably, the owner sat down with us. He bought us several rounds and shots.
He told us how beer gardens started. This room, which was massive, was used to store beer kegs in. They would fill it with kegs and snow during winter.
They then would have beer all summer. The ground above would be the "garden" that the beer would be served in. Usually under shade trees.
It was awesome.
He finally had to go back to work and we head upstairs to The Hall. We decide to have a beer with the locals. (In the pic on the website, you can see the beer barrel tables on the left. That's where we end up sitting with the German man mentioned below)
One man started chatting with us. A strapping man. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Probably in his 70's but well maintained. Despite the language barrier we had a wonderful time over several beverages.
I regretfully made him cry when i asked about Hitler etc. He admitted to being a "Hitler Youth". He said he was not old enough to know what was going on at the time. I didn't know if i believed him but he seemed sincere.
It was an amazing evening.
Julie's post reminded me of when we were in Rome last year and passed a two man band doing my kinda music...they started singing one of hubby's favs - Wonderwall by Oasis - just to stand at night on the sidewalk in Rome by the VE monument and listen to some nicely sung tunes by two guys...I would have stuck around longer...it was nice to just pause and sway along...
Thanks, new posters! I've got another: at the Oceanario in Lisbon, I came across an exhibit that particularly delighted me- a vast area with sea birds moving around freely, seeming quite content. I took out a Portuguese/English dictionary, trying to express how I felt about the birds, and a kind aquarium guide saw me and helped me piece a coherent Portuguese sentence together.
Went to the Accademia museum in Firenze for the first time 30 years ago, fell in love with the sculpture of Saint Matthew, to the point of weeping. One of the museum guards saw me, brought me a chair so I could sit in front of the sculpture and weep in comfort. This was in the day when there were chairs and a many fewer tourists. After I gave back the chair, I lurked in the museum for hours.
On the same trip and many times thereafter, I visited the Sistine Chapel. I was alone, and I was able to wait out the tour groups going through the chapel, so several times during my visits, there were several seconds to a full minute or more when I was alone with Michelangelo's ceiling frescoes. (Those days are long gone.)
Ah, Zoe! Now I'm feeling weepy, in a good way. I'd like to recommend a YouTube video of a concert I attended: Duke Vespers Ensemble, Music of the Sistine Chapel (concert actually starts 17 minutes in).
At a Christmas market in Copenhagen, sipping on a mug of glogg while listening to a small choir of young girls singing Christmas carols. Then, they launch into Santa Lucia, and it was like being transported into a scene from Rick's European Christmas Special.
One of my dearest memories was in Venice. My mother, sister and I had just had dinner at a restaurant near St. Mark Square. We decided to walk over to the square before we had to take the boat back to the hotel. We sat on the steps and listened to the violin concerts at several restaurants in the square. It was my 80 year old mother's first trip to Italy and she turned to my sister and I and said she never dreamed she would ever be in Italy let alone sitting in St. Mark's square listening to violin music. She so enjoyed that night.
In 2000 my aunt and I were visiting the Netherlands, the country of our ancestral heritage, and it seemed like in every village and city we were in, sometime during our visit church bells or a carillon or something would ring. The most touching time was at the American cemetery in Margraten in the province of Limburg. We were standing in awe of all the white crosses in front of us when the carillon began playing patriotic hymns, like God Bless America. There we were for several minutes with tears streaming down our faces.
While staying in Arles in 2013 we drove our rented vehicle to Pont du Gard. It was a pretty, rainless, cool day. The countryside was beautiful of course! Arriving at Pont du Gard we encountered a huge nearly empty parking lot. We were a part of the few tourists there at this time of year. Try doing that in summer!
We wandered enchanted around the area of the Pont du Gard, taking many pics with this epic site in the background. The few other folks there, mostly locals walking their dogs or working the gift shop, seemed to just be enjoying the silence and beauty. We knew we were having a very special moment.
The next day we went to Avignon, found easy parking and sat on a bench looking across the river at a former Pope's residence, walking by the river (there is no railing so watch your step!) and marveling at the half-way bridge.
The Farmer's Market in Arles was perfect. We stayed at a Rick Steve's endorsed hotel near the Coliseum and loved it.
The next day we dropped the car, hopped a train to Barcelona and got on a transatlantic cruise.
Very special life moment
Mig Loves Travel
Found this thread from Rick's monthly email, enjoying all the stories. I'll add a couple of memories:
The first time I went to Europe on a student tour in 1977, several of us spent a great evening singing Beatles songs with some young Italians in the square outside our hotel in Rome. Music really is a universal language.
Two years ago, in Rome again, I was the only English speaking visitor at the catacombs of Priscilla.They asked me to wait expecting some more English speaking visitors would arrive. It was getting close to closing time and no other English speakers had come. When I went back to the gift shop to ask if I would still be able to get a tour, the woman behind the counter made a quick phone call and told me to wait. I got my own private tour with a little Italian nun! It was a wonderful way to experience the catacombs.
Sitting on a bench by the gorgeous ruins of the 15th-C. nunnery on the Isle of Iona, off Mull, Scotland. A dramatic day with alternate showers and bright sun. At this point the sun was out, flowers blooming, and there was an almost absurd contrast between the ephemeral beauty of the bright green grass & the flowers and the timeless beauty of the ruins. A perfect few minutes, though I could have sat there all day, or at least until the next shower.
On my first trip to Europe (traveling solo), an elderly lady who was probably 80 years old, came up to me at the train station in Salzburg and asked me if I was new to the city. I said I was and she replied, "let me show you Salzburg." Someone did that to her in Paris when she was young, so once a month she would find a solo traveler and pay it forward. I never forgot that and try pay it forward whenever I can.
My two children ages, 11 and 7 at the time, and myself visited the Vatican Museum in Rome when we came to the Sistine Chapel we were exhausted and there was no where to sit. A guard noticed how tired the kids were, so he very kindly removed the rope that protects the alter and let us sit on the benches that were next to it. It was so wonderful we had the choicest seats that were padded and covered in red velvet. People kept looking at us like we were some sort of celebrities, but it was so sweet to sit there for an hour to really see all of the beautiful ceiling.
Another favorite of ours is on the same trip when we were in Rome. We went to the the Teatro dell' Opera to see "Giselle". We thought we could just walk up and get tickets, we were after all traveling in March. We get to the box office and I ask for the cheapest nose bleed section tickets only to find out they are sold out. The lady realized that we were tourists and asked us to sit over on the benches that were across from her window, she promised she would see if we could get some "no show" tickets. Finally she waves us over and says it will be 53Euro for all three of us and hands us our tickets. We thank her and are so excited. We walk into the theater and usher takes our tickets and then says "come with me". I am thinking wow our tickets must be really high up. No we come to a door on the 2nd level which he opens up and we go in only to find out we have a private box ON the stage one level up!!! For 53 Euro's we got the best seat in the house. My daughter who at that time was a pre-professional dancer said this inspired her to continue her career and for us it was the best 3 hours of our trip!!!!
One more, sorry I just remembered it, same trip we were in Florence and found out from the TI that there was a concert in the the Medici Riccadi Palace. We get there exhausted from a day of site seeing when we start to see people arrive in their FURS, uh oh we are in jeans! Then comes in the media, big camera's and all, they are interviewing someone and then she points to us, we just smiled stupidly because we have no idea what she is saying. In about 15 min we are surrounded with Italians dressed to the nines in furs and no tourists, and we got in free. It turns out it is a pre-concert of two violinist and one cellist who have performed at Carnegie Hall. We spent the most spectacular 3 hours under the most beautiful ceiling imaginable listening to tear-jerking music. All of the Italians around us kept talking to us even though we had no idea what they were saying it was a "Beautiful, never forget" moment!
Many years ago, back in the 1960's, my husband and I were driving through western Austria, and we stopped for a night at a small-town inn. As we were finishing our dinner, some of the local guys came in for what was evidently their weekly night to get together and drink beer. They were having a good time, and before long they started singing and yodeling. We just sat and listened. It was wonderful! After a while, my husband bought them a round of beer, and they sang "Hoch Soll Er Leben," the German equivalent of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."
I was sitting on a bench in a seemingly empty train station in the Cinque Terre. Alone on a gorgeous September afternoon with my thoughts and the gorgeous view of the water. Someone nearby started playing the theme from Midnight Cowboy on the harmonica...and it was magic.
We stopped off at Cobh, Ireland en route between Cahir and Kenmare on a trip in 2002. The city museum, a very humble one, was closed for renovation but a young local man offered to let us in and show us around. Part of the heritage of Cobh is that was where a lot of the dead from the Lusitania were taken, at least initially. I still remember him telling us the story, and the way he ended with "and it was very sad for the town" in his Irish accent. It was eighty-seven years prior but for this young man it was as if he was there for it. The rhythm of his voice was as if he were reciting poetry.
So many..
The restaurant owner in the tiny Bavarian town of Missen who went to the kitchen to show me the mushrooms she gathered that morning in the nearby forest for her husband, the "cooker" who made a terrific sauce.
The first moment Mont St. Michel came into view as we topped a hill on the drive there. I heard myself catch my breath at the beauty.
On our first trip to Normandy before I knew how to phone the US successfully. I explained to the curator of Utah Beach Museum that my father came across Utah Beach in July 1944 and that I would like to call him to tell him I was there. I told him I had the currency as well as a credit card (no phone card) and asked him if he could assist me in calling my father. His answer? "Please. Use my phone. No charge."
My most memorable, lovely, moment happened on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Instead of beginning in St. Jean Pied de Port as is customary, my journey began in Leon due to weather and work time constraints (the Pyrenees were under heavy snow, parts of the trail were invisible and many other Peregrinos talked of being held up for days waiting). My husband and I walked during the worst rainfall in the recorded history of Spain. We were drenched daily. TV news showed cattle being airlifted from rising floodwaters. Many times I wanted to give up. At 54 years of age, I reckoned there were better ways to spend a vacation. My husband encouraged me to continue. I came down with Bronchitis, and had horrible sores on my feet resulting from my supposedly waterproof boots not drying out.
But the people of Spain were incredible. At one Auberge, the host prepared an Epsons Salt foot bath for me. At another, they drove into town to purchase a new bed for our room when it was apparent the original one was broken by a previous occupant and there was no other room to offer us. In Ponferada, on Easter Sunday, I ended up in the hospital, where I received free medical care for my feet, and a prescription for my Bronchial infection (all 'Peregrinos' walking with documents receive free healthcare at Camino hospitals). During the course of conversation I learned the doctor's brother lived on the same street as my son in the U.S. Coincidence? I'm not a particularly religious person, and perhaps it was a result of my fever, but I wondered if angels were walking with us. A taxi driver drove us to the one open pharmacy in town, and then to a wonderful b/b over a pub in the center of town across from the Templar Palace, where I spent the next two days in bed recovering. When it was time to leave, all the pub regulars (between 15-20 people) who had come to know us during our stay walked with us to the edge of town, cheering us on our journey.
When we finally arrived a few days later in Santiago, I looked back on all the experiences we had on the Camino, and realized that even through very difficult circumstances, with the support of former strangers who had since become friends we had completed a most transformative journey. I will forever love Spain and the Spaniards for their kindness and generous spirit. Buen Camino!
While in Washington, DC chaperoning our 8th grade class trip our guide was a native of Prague. I told her that I was planning on going to Prague later that summer on a trip with my daughter. She insisted that we have dinner at a restaurant owned by her friend. I agreed and asked for the name of the restaurant. While in Prague we found ourself near the restaurant so we decided to eat dinner there, not expecting too much. Much to our surprise it was great... food was very good and the friendly atmosphere was so charming. Totally an expected experience.
Some years back, a group of us were winding our way up the Danube from Budapest toward Nurenburg on a river cruise boat. In the evenings, the lounge entertainment consisted of a fellow (Czech, I believe) who sang and accompanied himself on keyboard. I don't think he spoke a word of English (and of course we didn't speak Czech). The English lyrics to his songs he apparently sang phonetically, and didn't have any idea of what the words actually meant. Several of us in our group were ballroom dancers, so after listening to him play several "listening" tunes (that you really can't dance to), we asked him if he would play a Waltz. After much English/Czech back-and-forth and sign language, he agreed. Imagine the smiles he raised when the Waltz turned out to be a phonetic English version of "Home On The Range." It still brings smiles when I think of it.
While walking the shoreline of Lake Bled, Slovenia we came upon a nesting pair of swans, with several very young cygnets. You just don't see that in the US.
I was staying in a small guest house in Scotland. A cold rainy day, I had nothing to do. I came back to guest house in the afternoon, and just sat down with the proprietor's family and a couple of other Scottish guests and watched TV the whole afternoon, having a wonderful chat about politics, and culture and all that stuff with them. I think they were really pleased that an American guest would just hang out with them an enjoy their company. They treated me like family after that. This is when I learned that its not just about looking at old historical buildings and art, its about the people too.
Strolling along the Royal Mile in Edinburgh - prior to our tour start in May 2014 - heard lovely bagpipes - and there we met a distinguished Scot dressed in his finest clan colors playing for the lucky few - even had our photo taken with him - one of a million magical moments
After a wonderful visit to the Muse'e National du Moyen Age (Muse'e Cluny), I found a little neighborhood park. Feeling a little bit hungry I went across the street to the Monoprix grocery and picked up a small baguette, comte' cheese, sliced ham, a basket of strawberries, a bottle of Pellegrino and a small apple tarte tain. I head back across the street and sat down on one of the green park benches and had a quite lunch. The Sorbonne is on located on the other side of the park and a few students were studying during their lunch. As I was finishing my lunch, a group of young school children were gathering in the park to get ready for their tour of the museum. When ever I'm feeling stressed at work, I just think back to that perfect picnic impromptu lunch.
I popped into a church in Paris to look around and take a rest. A funeral was just ending. After the blessing 6 men hoisted the plain wooden casket up on their shoulders and solemnly walked down the aisle and down the steps. I am a pastor and have been to many funerals but there was something about the men carrying the casket on their shoulders which was particularly moving.
My son and I spent our first evening in Europe at an outdoor cafe on Rambla de Catalunya in Barcelona. We were ending our long and hectic travel day enjoying local Spanish cuisine along with our sangria. As we were waiting for our food, a violinist strolled up and started playing beautiful music. Listening to his music, it was at this point when we realized we were in for a fantastic vacation.
Low-key moments are the height of traveling for me. We were in the Santa Anastasia church in Verona when a small choir and a soloist began to practice for an upcoming event. The music filled the chapel. We felt like the concert was just for us. Wandering back streets always presents something not found in the tour books.
Walking along the Via dei Fori Imperiali towards the Coliseum on a sunny day with a cool breeze blowing in my face, I hear the absolutely beautiful, haunting, faint strains of a pan flute. I came upon a South American group of street musicians. The setting and unexpected music--absolute joy and feeling so grateful to be there.
We arrived in Istanbul late at night in 2006, after a long flight from California. A mini-bus whisked us (Mr Toad's wild ride :) to our small hotel in Sultanahmet. We wearily climbed the stairs to our 3rd floor room, where I pulled open the draperies and beheld one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen: the Blue Mosque, in full moonlight, with seagulls flying gracefully around the many minerets. I sat back on the bed in total silence, transfixed, for my "we're not in Kansas anymore" moments.
My husband and I were visiting Monterosso in Italy's Cinque Terre. We were sitting on a bench in the town square when 5 little boys arrived on bicycles. They dropped their school backpacks and surrounded the fountain. One of them had a metal washer on a long string. They took turns tossing the washer into the water, positioning it next to a coin and then pulling on the string to drag the coin to a spot where they could retrieve it. The proprietor of a near-by store walked over to them. I thought he might shoo them off but instead he cheered them on, pointing out coins they might have missed. They collected a few coins apiece and happily jumped on their bikes and rode off. We think they were headed to the gelato store.
Wow! I feel really honored that my topic got featured in the Newsletter, and so happy that it continues to collect such lovely stories.
My wife and I traveled to Italy in September 2011 and one of the places we stayed was Vernazza. I remember sitting at the harbor with my wife and a bottle of wine that we bought in town and watching the sun set over the Mediterranean. Magical. Two weeks later the mudslides hit and Vernazza was buried in mud. This fall we are going back and we can't to be there again.
Brad - Venice's deserted canals late at night. Have you watched the movie "Don't Look Now"? Creeps me out every time.
Emily - was it the Apricot Hotel in Istanbul? We love it there.
As for me I love the solitude and quiet of the early morning. The Bosphorus at sunrise watching the stray cats being fed and the intrepid swimmers venturing out into what will become a major shipping lane in just a couple of hours. Or walking Prague's deserted Charles Bridge at dawn. Or Paris' Pere Lachaise Cemetery early morning in Autumn just as the leaves are starting to fall from the trees and before the loud tourist hordes descend on Jim Morrisons' grave.
Finally in London 2013, mid-morning and semi-lost near Berwick Street when my wife says hello to someone. Puzzled I look around to see the actor Bill Nighy having a cup of coffee in an outdoor cafe. He was a most charming man and we were amazed at our good fortune to be able to enjoy such a chance encounter.
Walking the back lanes in Assisi we observed an elderly man putting up his wooden ladder against his vine covered wall. Before climbing his ladder to prune the vines, he went back inside and turned on his Italian opera! With beautiful music filling the air, we enjoyed our moment! Connecting with the localsπ.
While on a very busy guided tour in China, my sister and I spent a few days in Beijing. At the end of the day, and after our evening meal, we were on our own until the next day. One evening we explored the Golden Mile (of shops, parks, etc) near our hotel for awhile before turning in. We happened upon a large wedding party taking photographs, which we understood is a common occurrence that happens any day of the week. How interesting to be part of the "night life" in this huge city, part of the crowd watching the wedding party in their finest, commemorating their special day.
Here is the beer garden in Munich I mentioned above. Their website is pretty cool. I just found his business card that he gave me.
The Lagerkeller is the underground bar we spent time in with the owner, Christian Vogler. Amazing.
Click on "The Hall" and you can see where we sat at the table made from a beer barrel and visited with the old German that was a Hitler youth.
Highly recommend this place if you are ever in Munich.
http://www.augustinerkeller.de/restaurant/der-lagerkeller/?L=1
I vote this thread be pinned to the top permanently
The sign in front of Jakobskirka in Stockholm said "Drop-In Weddings Today". There were five of us witnessing the event from the pews, a care-free groom (one shirt tail out), a serious bride, and her disapproving parents. It was a shotgun wedding if I ever saw one.
Standing on a street corner in Old Quebec. My friends were shopping. I was waiting. In my "somewhat adequate" French I asked if he was waiting for his wife to finish her shopping.
He told me that he was waiting for someone to finish a chemo treatment; he is a volunteer driver. And then we launched into a most delightful conversation about volunteerism, "giving back" and "do unto others" and, finally, why do we volunteer.
I am sure we stood on that corner for a good 20 minutes. For me, it was a reinforcement that there are good people doing good works no matter where in the world we may be.
Staying with a friend in then-West Berlin in the early 1980's (returning from 2 years in Africa), I came across the huge, lit-up American flag at the Tempelhof airport, site of the Berlin airlift. I had read about this amazing operation and found myself moved to tears at the sight and was surprised at myself, not being particularly into flags and the outward trappings of patriotism for the most part.
Biding my time until the TI opened in Vienne, I went into the Cathedral Saint-Maurice, an awesome superannuated seat of the Church which had seen so much history, including Pope Clement V abolishing the Knights Templar in the 14th c., and many re-drawings of the map during French Wars of Religion, and there in the vast space with tapestries hung between the pillars, a modest family was conducting a baptism.
The short service was like a warm ember glowing in a huge stone fireplace, with rosy-cheeked young parents beaming, aunts and uncles all smiles.
Then one of the congregants swung onto the bench of the pipe organ, which looked like it was last dusted when the original Baptist was in action, and filled the stone arches with a celebration hymn. Pamphlet says 315' x 118' x 89' but for the moment it felt cozy as a family den.
Sitting in the beer garden in Salzburg and watching the people sitting at the reserved tables and wondering how many years they have been sitting there. They all looked very happy. Sure wish we could have something like that where I live.
A high school choir had a concert in the Gendarmenmarkt while I decided to take a break there.
A light rain settled over the city of Budapest on a late spring day while I enjoyed the outdoor bath at Gellert. It was even better than a pretty day, because I had the pool nearly to myself.
One night while in Madrid, I went to an Irish pub because, I'm sorry Spain, I needed a decent beer and the Irish pubs are the only places that a beer other than San Miguel or Mahou are available. The young lady behind the bar was Russian and a few years younger than myself. She told me she felt more comfortable speaking in Spanish than English. So there we were, one American, one Russian, both born during the Cold War, in an Irish bar in Madrid having a long conversation entirely in Spanish.
I arrived in Paris in September of 2007 to celebrate my 50th birthday. The night was quite chilly but it was my birthday after all and I wanted to spend it floating down the Seine. I climbed to the deck above and took a seat. My heart was filled with enchantment having never been to Paris before. As I struggled with myself to go below (where it was obviously warmer but the view more restricted) we went around a bend in the river. I looked to my left and suddenly the night was lit up by thousands of sparkling little lights taking the form of the Eiffel Tower which I hadn't spotted a moment before in the dark. My first thought was "How did they know it was my birthday?". I was the only passenger outside in the cold and in the dark. Of course those of you that have been to Paris know that this is a nightly occurrence but I didn't know that then and I'm still convinced they did it just for me. It was magic then and it's magic still.
I always remember a magical New Years eve (2002/2003) in London. My (then) fiancee and I had done a London Walks pub tour that hit many historic and/or nicely located pubs. While we were having a pint, our guide had slipped down to the Thames and, at low tide, had brought up a few artifacts. My wife was given a bit of clay tile that still had a hole in it where it had been used as roofing material back several centuries. After the walk, we were strolling back to the tube station and happened to be on the (fairly new) Millennium Bridge headed towards St. Paul's when it was midnight, so we just stood there, watching fireworks and kissing a bit (lovely New Years tradition, that - but we probably would have anyway). We had purposely avoided the crowds of Trafalgar or Piccadilly, but the tube station (Monument) was packed and it somehow didn't seem that cold to us, so we just kept walking the nearly deserted streets, past Westminster Abbey and past Victoria Station until we got back to our B&B. Such a beautiful, peaceful walk . . . .
A couple from our last trip five years ago--
A foggy, rainy, deserted day in October upon the Sicilian mountain between Taormina & Savoca. Outside Bar Vitelli (where Godfather I was filmed), drinking an espresso under the canopy & my guide chain-smoking and wondering why these crazy Americans would come out in this type weather. Not exactly 'lovely', but pretty darn cool...
After a course-upon-course dinner in Florence, walking it off. It's late, maybe 11PM, and as we walked across the piazza near the Uffizi Gallery, we could hear flute music. Down that narrow street between the buildings, almost in the pitch dark, was a solitary flautist playing his repertoire, classical and pop tunes, with a small crowd of about 20 sitting on the Uffizi's steps & clapping respectfully after each song. We sat down too and marveled at the perfect acoustics as the flute sounds wafted into the night air. Magical.
There are some lovely stories here. Thank you, Insig, for getting the topic started and also all who shared their special moments.
Walking around Christ Church Meadow in Oxford and watching my husband try to take selfies with local geese.
Hanging out on the grass at Volkspark am Weinbergsweg with what seemed like the whole population of Prenzlauer Berg on our last evening in Berlin. I think I miss that city every day!
Here is another for me. I was in Italy last year for the World Cup and there were many moments of joining in with the crowd around a television watching one of the matches. However, one of the more memorable ones was in Florence as I was wandering around looking for a place for dinner. Walking down Via dei Conti I came upon a wonderful scene at a small bar. The TV had been turned out towards the street and the chairs had been removed from the bar and were spread out in the street with many excited patrons watching the match. No concerns for traffic - Brazil and Chile with the crowd pro-Chile. A great and fun experience to sit with a glass of wine and cheer.
So many of these beautiful memories involve music! Many years ago I was walking along the fondamenta delle Zattere in Venice treasuring the early morning quiet and sunshine, the beautiful flowers, and anticipating the day ahead when suddenly I heard this thread of music. It was coming from a small free-standing building, and as I walked around, it grew into the most incredible violin music. All I could do was lean against the wall and let it wash over me. Literally stunning.
While having an early morning breakfast at a sidewalk cafe in Paris near St Sulpice, an elderly French gentleman sat next to me. He was at least 80. We quickly struck up a conversation in English. My French is limited and he wanted to practice his English. I soon learned that he was waiting for his date to arrive. I smiled, he winked. After a most interesting 30 minute conversation, I felt comfortable enough to ask him how much the loud American tourists were bothersome to the French. His exact response was "I will give you two answers to your question: 1917 and 1944. You can be as loud as you want." Shortly thereafter his 70 something date arrived and off they went.
Thank you so much to everyone who shared their stories - they've made me very happy.
On our trip a month ago, our apartment at Piazza Santa Maria Novella, Florence. Late afternoon, back home after walking all over and stopping at Mercato Centrale for provisions like salami, prosciutto, grapes, bread, cheese & honey. Laying on the couch, windows wide open, late winter/early spring breeze wafting in. Heard music down on the square. Sat up, walked over to our 2nd story window and saw an acoustic guitarist and accordionist playing Andrea Bocelli songs below us on the square. Smiled, laid back down on the couch, and dozed to the music. Not bad. Not bad at all.
On a visit to Prague a couple of years back I was walking across a nearly deserted Charles Bridge when I encountered a white haired and bearded gentleman, dressed completely in black including a wide brimmed hat, playing classic American jazz on his silver tenor sax. A truly memorable mini-concert for one ensued.
