Return to Germany

Like I remembered.  Idyllic.  We were surrounded by green, pure nature, at the Fischerhütte near Darmstadt, Germany.

Thekla, Andrea and Thiemo at the Fischerhuettte

Many, many years ago when I worked as a journalist at the newspaper Stars and Stripes, I lived not so far away.  I remember hikes to the hütte in the forest. I remember treks to secret places in that forest in search of the coveted steinpilze (boletus, cepes, porcini – whatever the name, the king of mushrooms). I remember the tranquility, the beauty of those woods.

It was wunderbar to return to Germany after so many years. I have missed Deutschland – old friends, favorite foods, the lush forests.

Trout for lunch at the Fischerhuette, and the best German beverage, beer.

Andrea, the daughter of an old friend, her husband Thiemo and her sweet mother, Thekla, led me down memory lane, not just to the Fischerhütte, but other special spots.  It was magical.

Many more memories were rekindled with friends in the Stuttgart area where I lived with husband Bob (RIP) for many years.

Gerlinde welcomed me in her Stuttgart home.  Like many of my friends, she is a foodie par excellence, even making her own yogurt and ice cream. She is also devoted to fitness and swims against the jet stream in her pool for 20 minutes every day.   I just swam, minus the jet stream.  

Gerlinde swims daily against a powerful water jet — Impressive.

We drove to Steinenbronn, past the apartment where Bob and I lived for 11 happy years. At a nearby restaurant, I indulged in my very favorite Swabian special, Zwiebelrostbraten (onion steak) with homemade Spaetzle.

I can’t complain about food on the Mediterranean coast where I now live, yet there is a shortage of ethnic eateries.

Not so in Germany where, among others, Turkish restaurants abound.  I miss those, too. Marianne treated me to lunch at her friendly neighborhood Turkish restaurant.  I wanted to bring those flavors back to France.

Then, that de rigeur German ritual, afternoon Kaffee und Kuchen (coffee and cake) at her apartment.   

Fun conversation and memories of good times enhanced all those luscious tastes. 

Marianne and Turkish delight

My friends indeed lavished me with generous and delicious hospitality.   Dagmar invited me and other friends to her home for a tasty lunch with a scrumptious raspberry cream dessert.  And, Heti invited us to a multi-course dinner of exquisite delicacies, each worthy of a magazine photo (photos below). This was especially remarkable as she had fallen and broken her wrist the day before.

On my last day we met in Bebenhausen. Bob and I were avid cyclists.  We liked to pedal from Steinenbronn to this tiny burg with an ancient monastery and an excellent restaurant.  It is still charmingly picturesque.  My last treat before heading home, another German delicacy:  Rehrücken filet (venison filet).  Delectable.

Living on the Mediterranean coast, I have the sea, palm trees, the Maritime Alps, tropical gardens – but no dense, enchanting forests.   I had not realized that I was forest deprived.  I was in awe of all the fabulous German greenery.

I mentioned this to Andrea, so we visited yet more. “I’ve never been to so many forests in one day,” she said.  Gerlinde told me that Stuttgart has more green space than any other German city.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep…,” and a treasure.

Thank you, dear friends, I loved my return to Germany –especially seeing all of you.

Below: Heti’s superb creations. Each was mouthwatering.

I will add a new recipe next time. Meanwhile, for an easy, tasty dessert, try my recent discovery, RUM-SOAKED MANGOES. Sinfully delicious.

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Rambling along the Riviera

Emmy and Anne came to visit.  They are sisters,  my cousins whom I have not seen in too many years.

Cousins then: me, Emmy, Anne

Emmy is a year older than Anne.  Anne is 5 days older than I.   As children, we saw each other frequently.  With time and moves,  all that changed. (Thank you, Emmy, for above photo. )

And cousins now: Anne, me and Emmy. We celebrated Derby Day with mint juleps.
As a young reporter I worked for the Louisville Courier-Journal and was assigned to cover the elegant Derby “balls.”

Neither cousin had been to my turf in southern France. I wanted to show them my favorites and the must-sees of the area.  We were on the move during their week-long visit, rambling along the Riviera.

I asked them to send me impressions, comments, etc. after their return. Continue reading for photo highlights and their comments.

We ventured up in the hills on day #2 of their visit, a stop for meditation and reflection at the place where my Bob’s ashes have been dispersed. Husband Bob and I were avid cyclists. He loved challenging climbs. We attacked this road and its numerous hairpin turns many times.

Pilgrimage chapel along the road between Sospel and Moulinet where I dispersed Bob’s ashes.

“I loved seeing the remote and serene place where you gave Bob a final resting place. What a beautiful place to commune with nature and to be part of a sacred pilgrimage like so many before us,” Anne said.

We were on the border with Italy. I felt they should have a taste of my preferred country, so we continued up the mountain and returned to the coast via Italy. Bob and I had cycled some – but not all of this terrain. It was a long, long way down.

Anne’s comment: “You complained about the day with the too long drive but that was one of my favorite days. You are a fearless driver! The hairpin turns, the cyclists, the sheer drop offs were terrifying to me but didn’t seem to faze you.”  …Driving in the Mediterranean hinterland is not for the faint of heart.

Markets are de rigueur around here. The Saturday morning market in nearby Menton is enticing with clothes (Italian bargains) in addition to tempting produce. Cousins were impressed, and each found a garment souvenir. “The market in Menton was lots of fun,” noted Emmy.

A market of a different sort was also high on their list of favorites. Conad, an Italian supermarket on the border, is like no other, the antithesis of a sanitized, huge, beautiful American supermarket. It’s cluttered, chaotic, always crowded. French love the cheaper prices. I love the prices too, but mostly the crazy ambiance and the Italian products.

For Anne, this was her “upfront favorite experience… both disorienting and fascinating.” Emmy commented that she was glad she had the experience “in the store with anything and everything one might want. ” Pots and pans, socks and underwear, plants and flowers — all are stuffed in those narrow Conad aisles.

Outstanding art museums are a major attraction on the Riviera, including the Picasso museum in Antibes where I found lots of photo opps.

But for me the museum piece de resistance is the Fondation Maeght in St. Paul de Vence. On my first trip to the Riviera moons ago, I visited the Fondation. I was overwhelmed then and overjoyed recently with our visit. The art museum on a hill overlooking the medieval town features a superb collection of modern art including large sculptures in gardens and on terraces.

Since we were in the area, we stopped to visit the Matisse chapel in nearby Vence. A nun inspired the artist to create the chapel whose vibrant colors are dazzling.

Emmy summed up her take on the trip: ” I loved each and every excursion. Was especially intrigued by Dolceacqua with its historic bridge and unique and ancient tunnel structure leading up to the castle. Loved the trip to Eze with its beautiful gardens perched on the hilltop.”

Dolceaqua with its castle and ancient bridge

Food is a travel highlight. My dear cousins are easy to please and liked everything. We avoided expensive eateries. Sitting outdoors at a Vence resto, Anne ordered coffee as her lunch beverage. I explained that in France coffee is a breakfast drink, definitely not ordered as liquid refreshment with a noon or evening meal. However, after the meal, a “petit ” espresso is in order. It was all in fun. One can drink whatever whenever, but I thought they should learn a bit about the local customs.


Anne with her coffee americano


“One of my favorite moments was when I ordered coffee at lunch and you gave me a startled look and told me that was a gauche thing to do. Or perhaps I am gauche, your country bumpkin, too-American cousin! That struck me as so amusing, so familial in a way,” she recalled. BTW: Anne is delightful, definitely not gauche.

Because we were on the move, I did not prepare at- home dinners, except for their arrival, my all-time favorite, Shakshuka. Click for the recipe. I had made a rum carrot cake in advance of their arrival. We had a slice every day — too much and it wore thin (but not on the waistline). We never did finish it.

It was heartwarming, fun and gratifying to reunite with my cousins. A few months ago my nephew visited – his first time in Europe. We had a “blast.” Read about that adventure: Intro to Europe 101.

I hope all my kin will come back. And, so does Simba who bonded with Emmy.

Emmy knits. Simba cuddles.

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TODAY’S TASTE: Rum-soaked mangoes (a winner)

Click on Mangoes for recipe and for more recipes, click here.

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Paris:  A cathedral, couture – and cows

Notre Dame. We had to see it. Who doesn’t remember TV images of flames ripping through the glorious landmark cathedral five years ago?  

That was then. Today. Wow! Considering the monumental damage from those flames and smoke, the interior is no less than miraculous.  It’s vibrant. It dazzles. It’s lofty, light and inspiring.

Friend Karen and I followed the line of visitors moving slowly through the nave.  We, and others, stopped to admire minute details which have been meticulously restored. We stopped  for photos.  And we stopped and stood and gazed, overpowered by the majesty of all.

We visited Paris in February. The weather was not pleasant (mainly gray and cold), nor was this the best time for special exhibitions at museums. One exhibit did receive lots of publicity: “Louvre Couture.” We went for it, but were somewhat underwhelmed.  Enormous, imposing rooms where enormous ancient tapestries hang provide a backdrop for fashions dating from 1961 to the present. 

It was impressive, as is the Louvre.  But, where were all the rooms with gorgeous furniture and fashion featured in publicity photos?  We backtracked, looking for doors, passages to other sections.  No luck.   We were no doubt lost in the Louvre and perhaps missed the best part, but we felt we had seen plenty of fashion.

There was more fashion of sorts at a Quai Branly Museum exhibit, “Golden Thread, the Art of Dressing from North Africa and the Far East.” Shimmering golden gowns by Chinese designer Guo Pei are over the top

I love this museum which offers a journey through the arts and civilizations of Asia, Africa, Oceania and the Americans. It’s fun and fascinating. 


“You don’t go to Paris to see cows,” a friend remarked.  We did, and my mistake. The International Salon d’Agriculture was on in the French capital. Years ago, friends went and raved about it. Besides, I love animals – maybe more than fashion. 

 It was a long, too long, Uber ride.  The “salon”was mammoth – pavilion after pavilion.  We zeroed in on animals – the most popular and crowded pavilion.  We did see some interesting species but probably not the best use of our limited time in Paris.  

We enjoyed a more worthwhile visit to the Centre Pompidou for the Suzanne Valadon (1865-1938) retrospective. Valadon was a notable female artist whose works are bold in color, blending realism and expressionism.  She focused on women, depicting them in everyday life.  

More fashion at the Dior Gallery.  And, more art at L’Atelier des Lumieres.  A 19th century iron foundry has been converted into a high-tech exhibition center where the works of famous artists are projected on the walls, floor and ceiling. Visitors sit on benches, on the floor, enveloped and mesmerized by the ever-changing art scene.  We were surrounded by masterpieces of Picasso and Henri Rousseau – a delightful and dynamic experience.  

This was my first visit back to my favorite city in six years. Back then I had normal mobility.  Sadly, due to a horrendous fall, I now have “limited mobility.” I limp and walk with a cane, but it could be worse. This trip was a test.  Can I travel as a cripple?

I can walk , do steps and cobblestones – slowly.  Karen, an avid and fast walker, patiently put up with me. Previously the Metro was the preferred way of transportation in Paris, but I was fearful. No one moves slowly in the metro.   Too risky.  I would be mowed down.   We traveled by Uber – also slow due to Paris traffic, but comfortable and interesting.

We traveled in Toyotas (many) as well a Mercedes, even a luxurious Lexus with soothing music and complimentary water. Fortunately, no Tesla.  The drivers came from around the globe: Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria, Togo, Guadeloupe, Guinea, Haiti, Brazil, Cameroon and Ethiopia.

 The journalist in me emerged.  I probably asked too many questions, but was curious to learn about their backgrounds. All seemed happy to oblige.  Selam from Ethiopia formerly had a travel agency in his country.  Ever since reading a friend’s account of a trip to Ethiopia, I have longed to visit.   Selam may help me plan a trip. 

I conquered Paris without a fall.  I passed the test. I can travel with limited mobility, but it’s comforting to be with a friend.  Thank you, Karen.

The legendary restaurant Bofinger is next door to the hotel where we stayed (see below). Noted for seafood and Alsatian specialities. The only mishap of the trip was the oyster I ate there on our last night. It did me in, wiped me out for a week, but fortunately not until I was home.

IF YOU GO . . .

Paris is popular year-round.  Even in dreary February we found lines everywhere.  For attractions and exhibitions, book tickets online in advance, a must. Even then, expect to wait in line.

It was drizzling the morning we visited Notre Dame.  We waited outdoors in line about 20 minutes, but the long line was constantly advancing. This may not be the case as the weather warms and the crowds grow.  There is no charge to visit the cathedral.  You can book an entry time slot on line. See web site, http://www.notredamedeparis.fr

Our hotel was about a two- minute walk from Place de Bastille.

We loved our hotel, the Bastille Speria, a small 3* hotel just minutes from the Place de la Bastille and the Bastille metro stop. Close to the Marais and Place des Vosges. Friendly, helpful staff. Clean, attractive rooms.  Ample buffet breakfast, (eggs, fruit, yogurt, cheese, meats and more) included in the price.  Free copy of the NYT in the mini lounge.

Hotel-bastille-speria.com or info@hotelsperia7.com

Karen(right) and I at Carette, Place des Vosges, a restaurant where I met a friend from Stars and Stripes days, Len Hill, and his partner Claudine. Good times — and delicious scrambled eggs, the restaurant speciality.

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At last I have a new recipe, broccoli salad, and need-to-know info on this amazing vegetable.


TODAY’S TASTE – Broccoli Salad

Broccoli is a winner in the healthy veg category.  It’s rich in vitamins C and K and other nutrients.  But — the best bonus is a phytochemical, sulforaphane, known as one of the most powerful anticarcinogens found in food.

Click on the picture for the recipe – and learn more about this amazing vegetable.
For more recipes, click here – and remember: comments are very welcome.


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13 responses to “Paris:  A cathedral, couture – and cows”

  1. Stay tuned for more more recipes.

  2. Erika

    It’s so amazing that you did that adventure, I’m proud of you. Did you take this pictures with your phone? They are so beautiful. Thanks for sharing

    Erika

    1. It was so good to be back in Paris. Even in cold, gray winter, it was a joy. iphone fotos. Thanks for the compliment.

  3. Karen

    Don’t forget, Leah…….As we discovered, because you are handicapped, we could use the priority lanes at all the exhibitions. Which meant, no long lines for you, and as I was your accompagnante, I also got to get in first, and even in some cases, free. Also, your press card helped. So, yes, I did travel a little more slowly than usual, but there were advantages to being with you. And, we had a good time, despite the weather.

    Lovely blog of an interesting and fun trip.

    1. We deserved the advantages. It was a plus to Jump the lines for sure. I am so glad we made the trip. Thanks for being my “accompagnante. »


  4. so happy to hear that you are a travelling cripple!! Ha

    Sue

    1. Better to travel as a cripple than not travel.

  5. Ortrud Hundertmark

    Hallo Leah ich habe,wie immer, deinen Reisebericht mit großer Freude gelesen. Deine Berichte sind immer sehr aufschlussreich präzise und spannend zu lesen.

    1. Vielen Dank Liebe Ortrud. Hat Mich gefreut von dir zu hoeren. Paris hat Spass gemacht. Gruesse an Kurt.

  6. Meg Downie

    A great read Leah. I’m itching to get back to France.

    1. Thank you, Meg. Come and see me.

  7. mkratage

    It’s great to see you traveling again, Leah, even if at a slower pace. Notre Dame looks fantastic. Your photos are always beautiful and explanations interesting. Marian

    1. I was very happy to conquer Paris at a slow pace. It was a good trip, and Notre Dame is a sensation. Thanks for the comment, Marian.

Discovering the marvels of MUD

Five days a week, beginning in the wee hours, Askit is on the job, filling buckets with deep brown, slimy, gooey mud. Therapeutic mud.

The husky, jovial native of Albania then pulls a cart with six heavy buckets of the yucky substance to the treatment area at the Hotel Residence, a spa hotel in Abano Terme, Italy.  He has been doing this for 30 years, he tells me with a hearty grin, then dumps a pail of mud onto a therapy bed.

Vanni, his Italian colleague, takes over, spreading the mud into one or more puddles on a bed in a small therapy room.  The room also has a shower for hosing off the mud and a deep tub for après-mud soaking in warm thermal water. 

Vanni motions me into the room.  I shed the hotel robe.  Mud treatments are not for the prudish.  This is naked body treatment, however miniscule thong “undies “of a gossamer-like paper are available.  

Vanni checks the soaking tub.

Vanni is a joy, always smiling.  I stop trying to cover my sagging boobs with my arm and follow his instructions to  lie on the bed, back positioned on the big puddle. He lathers me with mud, covers me in plastic, puts a blanket on top and disappears. The mud is hot initially, but soon deliciously warm. I stay that way for 20 minutes.  Vanni returns midway to wipe my face with a cool, moist cloth.

He started working at the hotel in 1979, he says, and now calls himself “fango meister,” German for mud master.  Many Germans previously patronized this spa hotel.  Vanni has mastered the language in addition to the mud.

I am a water rat.  The mud is pleasant, but I adored the soak in the hot, bubbling thermal water.   According to the Abano web site (abano.it), the water makes a long, underground journey from the pre-Alps.  Rain enriches it with mineral salts.  It is transformed and “classified as salted-bromide iodic hypothermal water.” 

Euganean Hills, Abano Terme photo

The mineral rich water is the secret ingredient of the mud. Abano is at the feet of the Euganean Hills, a region of prehistoric volcanoes in northeastern Italy. Clay is extracted from lakes in the area, filtered and purified, then left to “ripen” for at least two months in special tanks with the hot thermal water.  Not just hot, but scalding water which emerges from the ground at 75-90 °C (167-194°F). For pool use, it travels through a piping system and is cooled to 30-35 °C (86-95°F). 

The final mud product is natural therapy with a healing, anti-inflammatory and analgesic action.  It is said to stimulate cartilage restoration, enhance the immune system, as well as restore vitality and a mineral balance of the body.

Pool at Hotel Residence

The tub soak is a delight, but even better are the thermal pools, large indoor-outdoor pools with warm thermal water and powerful water jets. They are not meant for swimming, just relaxing and enjoying the soothing water.  I could have spent hours at the pool, but learned from experience that was not a good idea.  The recommendation is for 30-40 minutes maximum per session.  Of course, I disobeyed the first time, and then was completely wiped out. 

Abano has been a wellness destination since ancient times.  According to legend, the first settlement in the territory was founded by Hercules who is said to have restored his strength and health here after his challenging feats.

Romans were fans of water treatments and appreciated the healing properties of hot springs and mud from the valley.  More than 2,000 years ago, they built villas and settlements whose ruins are still prevalent in the area.

Sun beams and steam at hotel pool

This was my third visit to Abano. The first was in the summer (not recommended). See my previous blog, “Taking the waters – and the mud” for more details.

This past Christmas as well as Christmas 2023, I joined friend Angi for a 10-day visit to Abano.  Angi is a dedicated fan of the mud.  For years she lived in Rome and spent two weeks every year in Ischia, a volcanic island off the coast of Naples known for thermal springs and mud.  She had serious back pain following an auto accident which resulted in five fractured vertebrae.  The treatments “took away the pain and inflammation,” she says.

Friend Vera has been to Abano six times for “wellness, cooling out, relaxing… I enjoy it.  I enjoy the treatments,” she says.

I can’t say Abano made any difference with my numerous body infirmities following my disastrous fall and seven surgeries.   But it was sublime, a definite morale booster, a rewarding experience. For me, it did “restore vitality.”   I just may return next Christmas.

In addition to mud and water, I treated myself to massages and facials.  I spent an afternoon exploring nearby Verona.  I joined the excursion to Villa Selvatico, one of many villas, castles and abbeys in the surroundings.  I attended a church concert. And, I found bargains at the town’s weekly market. 

Food was another highlight – very good, varied, healthy.  Angi and I shared a table in the welcoming dining room. Fatima, an “angel” from Brazil, was our waitress. She brought us real cappuccino in the morning so we could skip the watery machine variety. She gave us advice on menu selections. Like most of the hotel staff, she was cheerful, helpful and fun to chat with.

Fatima

The town Abano Terme has a population of 20,000, but claims 250,000 visitors annually.  There are some 37 spa hotels of all categories offering pools and mud treatments, as well as other hotels and different accommodation possibilities.

My package included nine nights single room, three meals per day excluding drinks, unlimited pool and sauna use, plus bus transportation: 1,400 euros (about $1,500 at current exchange rate).  A doctor visit is required before beginning the program, 70 euros ($72). The doctor determines, recommends which treatments are best for each visitor.  I paid 35 euros ($36) for each mud wrap and tub soak; 70 euros ($72) for a heavenly detox facial; 75 euros ($77.50) for a 50-minute-deep tissue massage.   The latter were so exquisite, I had to have more — an anti-stress facial and another deep tissue massage.

Throughout the year, GB hotels, a group of five Abano spa hotels, organizes bus transportation from several  cities in southern France where I to Abano.

More information on Abano: www.abano.it.  More info on the four-star Hotel Residence and other Abano hotels at www.gbhotelsabano.it

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Swedish holiday “orgy”

Following is a guest blog with photos by Swedish friend Lars who recently journeyed to his home country to celebrate his sister’s birthday. It was more than an over-the-top birthday party: the Julbord, a holiday overdose of food – and akvavit (a popular and strong Scandinavian spirit. See below for more on this beverage). The Julbord is a must at Christmas, but can be repeated during the festive season including on New Year’s Day. The eating can go on all day, Lars says. “It’s supposed to be drawn out. It’s an orgy. You need time to recover.” He recalls that housewives used to “slave for two weeks” to prepare the food, but many now celebrate in restaurants.

A small section of the Julbord

By Lars Sjöström

On the topic of Christmas food traditions, Sweden is in a league of its own when it comes to sheer opulence embodied in the institution of the Julbord, which is a king-sized jumbo version of the famous “smorgasbord” with extra bells and whistles and a bow on top.

The canonical way of eating your way through a Julbord is to start with a plate of cured salmon, several varieties of smoked salmon, and at least three — preferably 5-7 — different kinds of pickled herring , mackerel, smoked eel and various sauces eaten together with boiled potatoes and “special Christmas edition” crisp bread.

The first of several shots of akvavit is consumed in conjunction with communal singing of a snapsvisa — an often humorous ditty extolling the virtues of (heavy) drinking. There will be many more of these and they become naughtier as the evening progresses…

Next up is assembling a plateful of cold cuts, where the glazed ham is the centerpiece. There should be a minimum of ten, but usually many more different dishes ranging from sausages, patées and meats in jelly, to smoked reindeer and smoked lambs leg and whatever else is traditional in various parts of the country.

Another shot, another drinking song, and a swig of either Christmas ale or julmust, a nonalcoholic soft drink only available at Christmas time. 

The third round consists of hot dishes, and here is where the famous Swedish meatballs enter the scene. There should also be tiny hot dogs made from premium ingredients, spare ribs, different kinds of stews often based on game such as deer, moose or reindeer. At this point vegetables like red, green and brown cabbage, cauliflower and Brussel sprouts are introduced. 

Another shot, another song— you know the drill.

There is a cheese round, a dessert round and a Christmas sweets round, all with songs and shots.

If you are still able to function after all this, you can enjoy Julgröt — porridge made from rice boiled in milk and flavoured with cinnamon. There should be a single peeled almond hidden inside, and if you happen to find it, it will bring you luck in the new year.

Lars and his sister Anna.
Akvavit/Aquavit is a distilled spirit (at least 37.5 % in alcohol strength) produced in Scandinavia from grain or potatoes and flavoured with spices, especially caraway. Dill is also used in the Swedish version. The obligatory toast, Skål, precedes each shot.

Happy New Year! Let’s hope that the devastating wars ragging in too many parts of the world will come to an end. I especially grieve for Gaza that has and continues to be destroyed by US bombs, with some 45,000 lives lost. This has to stop. Let’s try to be optimistic and hope that somehow sanity and morality will prevail in the U.S.

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