City Girl, Europhile edition (Part One)

I’m a city girl. Always have been, always will be. My idea of a great vacation is going to a city. Mostly in Europe, but I’ve traveled extensively throughout the US as well. But I’m a major-league Europhile, so I was interested in a recent Travel and Leisure article that ranked the top European cities to visit. (I think the cities were voted by the mags readership.)

15th place went to Budapest. A number of years ago, my husband and I spent a few days there on a trip that included Prague. I found it very interesting, right down to the bullet holes from the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 – or were they from WWII? I liked hanging out in the cafés along the Corso, drinking voros bor (that’s red wine to those of you who don’t have two words of Hungarian; those are mine) and even spending a bit of time in the Café Europa – a real throwback to what I imagine hangouts were like before the war. (Pick a war, any war.) I remember the goulash was delish. Margaret Island was lovely. And our hotel looked out on the Chain Bridge that crosses the Danube and connects Buda and Pest. I can’t remember exactly when I was there – late 1990’s? early 2000’s? – and I’m too lazy to dig up an old passport. But it was during Hungary’s transition to a market economy, and they actually had a Dunkin’ Donuts there. Unfortunately, they’ve since transitioned to a right-wing nationalist form of government. Glad I got there once, but have not desire to return.

Prague (Number 14), on the other hand, I completely loved. We landed there, exhausted, in the middle of a ferocious rainstorm. We decided to do dinner in the top floor of our hotel. (A very nice one – best breakfast spread I’ve ever seen in my life. I still remember the sour cherries, Napoleons and champagne.) While we were eating, the rain stopped and the sun came out, just in time for sunset. The skies were purple and the sun brought out the ochre, orange and gold in all the old buildings. I believe that Prague was considered an open city. In any case, it wasn’t destroyed during WWII and all those beautiful old baroque churches and castles remain intact. Pure magic. The food wasn’t much, but did we love walking around this city. And taking their excellent subway, which cost about five cents and was far more modern than public transpo in the US. I can still hear the stations being announced: Mustek…I.P. Pavlova. The only downside of taking the the subway was the fact that, at least back then, not many Czechs used deodorant. While in Prague, I felt very European, especially when I was asked for directions once in German. (Despite having next to no German, I was actually able to help these folks out.) I was also asked something in Czech, which I had nary a word of, beyond thank you. The woman got quite annoyed that I didn’t understand here. Despite her pissiness, we much liked Prague and returned for a second time.

Edinburgh came out 13th. I first visited Edinburgh in 1973, and remember little about it other than the castle looming over the city, and that it was dark, cold and gloomy. Not so fast forward to 2015, when I went again. This was a year after my husband died, and I was meeting up there with my sister Trish and her family for a few days. I went a few days early, the first pleasure trip I’d ever taken on my own. I’d been on plenty of solo business trips, and some of those had included a day of sightseeing. But this was my first on-my-own vacation junket. The castle still loomed over the city, but it was bright and sunny. The museums were great. I took a day-tour of the Highlands. (Corny but excellent.) And, once my sister and her family arrived to bolster my nerve, tried haggis. My Edinburgh regret is that I didn’t buy a Harris tweed pocketbook. I thought I’d be able to get one at the Edinburgh Airport, but shopping-wise, Edinburgh Airport is no Shannon. There wasn’t much there on offer.

How can Paris be Number12? The first time I saw Paris, in 1973, I fell in love with the city. And that’s when I was staying in a hostel and traveling with little by way of money. My friend Joyce and I spend 5 months hitching around Europe, and Paris was a place we both adored. I vividly recall racing around the Louvre with packs of other tourists, trying to find our way form the Mona Lisa to Wing Victory to Venus de Milo. Mostly at the Louvre, I’m embarrassed to admit, we were bored. We’d both taken modern art in college, and found the Jeu de Paume more to our liking. In Paris, I (accidentally) ate calf’s brain and (on purpose) ate at McDonald’s. Just because. I vowed that Paris was one place I’d return to, and I have been back a handful of times with my husband. Getting back there one more time is on my bucket list. I need to drop a bit of my husband’s ashes off in the Tuileries Garden. I thought Prague was beautiful, but Paris is the most beautiful city I’ve even been in. Hands down.

My one and only time in Madrid (Number 11) was on that 1973 pan-European post-student trip with my friend Joyce. Franco was still in charge, and policemen were unfriendly, fascistic and scary. The Prado was dark. Although through most of our trip we camped or hosteled, in Madrid we stayed at a nasty B&B in someone’s apartment. One of the original AirBnB’s. Our room was sweltering, had no window, and a ceiling made of some rough weave black cloth. That we’d taken one of our few train rides to get there – we tried to hitchhike most places, but for some reason we took a train to Madrid – and had gotten bitten alive by mites didn’t help with my impression of Madrid. Glad I went. No desire to go back.

Too much ground to cover, even as an armchair traveler. I’ll get to the next 10 spots in tomorrow’s post.