nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition.

Or another blog post so soon, amirite?? It's only 'cause that last post was getting out of hand, length-wise, and now I'd like to finish it, since I have the tiniest bit of momentum going that direction. Yay, ambition!

So. Because we'd gotten through my (in retrospect, woefully deficient) list of must-sees in Metz in two days, we decided to hop on the ol' motorcycle and head ever so slightly north to Luxembourg, because I didn't feel like we'd quite done it justice the first time around. (It'd also been a REALLY stressful trip, what with Ned's steadfast refusal to take his epilepsy pills for our poor cat sitter.) Stop me if you've heard this one before, but Luxembourg City is another that has ancient roots, and is absolutely littered with tunnels, fortifications (its nickname was at one time "The Gibraltar of the North"), old towers, and other things that float my history-nerd boat, and I was quite excited to go back. (Not sure how Mike felt about it, but I think he was happy to be out and about on the bike, regardless of where we ended up. He's such a good sport.) Our first stop was the Bock casemates, which we'd missed the first time around.

These things were built in 1745 by the Austrians, one of eight (!) countries that have held Luxembourg over the centuries. To get down here you walk through what they're calling the "archaeological crypt," which is actually the excavated foundations of the first recorded fortress built here in the 10th century. (It wasn't terribly exciting, and I didn't take pictures. But please enjoy this one above, which is, I believe, part of the dungeons from some fortress or other that was on the site. And, therefore, older than the Austrian fortifications. Duh, Sarah. Take a picture next time, why don't you.)

The view from the north side of the casemates through one of the cannon openings, which were blasted open to prevent them from being used again after the country's declaration of neutrality in 1867.* (The tower-y thing here is called the "Hollow Tooth," and is supposedly the last surviving remnant of the 963 fortress...or it's the last remaining piece of the ginormous towered gate structure that was part of the defenses on this promontory. No one seems terribly clear on this.) 

Detail from one of the cannons...love the bow. Very tough. (Just FYI, these particular casemates could, at their peak, accommodate 50 cannons and 1,200 soldiers.)**

Sooo many tunnels down here, some of which are up to 40 m underground. There were originally 23 km of casemate tunnels under Luxembourg City, but the accessible portions were reduced to 17 km in 1867. (They couldn't destroy them all, however, seeing as how a sizable portion of the city above would collapse.)

This part was super interesting: the slots carved at the back (and all over the place, in this section of the tunnels) were for mining the joint, in case it was compromised during battle and had to be destroyed.

View from the south side of the casemates, into the lower city. Somebody's got some lovely gardens down there.

You've seen this shot before, but I couldn't help but take this picture again: I think it's a spectacular view, since it shows both the 14th-century Wenceslas wall (the one that starts at the bottom, runs across the river, then turns left) and the 15th-century Jacob Tower (top left). Neat. (Plus, it's just so green this time around!)

Interestingly enough, our exit from the tunnels was through this bridge, which, I'm told, provides at least four, if not five, ways of crossing between cliffs: over the top, through the middle passage, via a spiral staircase inside, or through the tunnel underneath the road below (and I can't seem to find what the fifth is). Craziness.

After the casemates, we ducked into St. Michael's church (whose present exterior dates to 1688), wherein the most interesting things we saw were some modern stained glass telling the city's story (which was NEAT, and of which I was apparently too lazy to take a photo, yet again), and this interesting little archway with some sort of Latin quote painted on it backwards. Go figure.

Rode past the Three Towers Gate on our way into the Pétrusse Valley. The central tower dates (probably) to the 11th or 12th century, and the outer two to the 14th.

And here's why we were going into the valley: the Quirinus Chapel, which is a little 14th-century church carved into the cliff wall in the valley. (The roof and bell tower were added in the 19th.)

I love how it's tucked into the cliff wall, and that you can't see it from above...only from the valley floor, where you also get a view of the extremely modern buildings in the city above.

The place is gated, so you can't go inside, but you can see in. The interior's a bit dark and a lot creepy.

Next, it was off to the remains of Fort Niedergrünewald (built 1684-85), which you can see from the old city, and which I desperately wanted to explore the last time we were there. (There really are walls and bits of forts that beg to be explored [at least, for me they do! must see ALL the old stuff!] on every hillside.) 

View from Niedergrünewald into the upper city.

The Vauban towers (17th century) and 1859 railway entrance into the city from Niedergrünewald.

Sadly, we missed the main 17th-century fort that I'd wanted to visit, and only after we'd arrived in the city did we discover that there are not one, but two, well-marked historical city walks which explore (between them) the majority of the fortifications and ruins and generally awesome historical bits all over the city. Which means we'll have to go back. Obviously.***

On our way back to Metz for the night, we decided to visit something a little different: the German military cemetery at Sandweiler, the counterpart to the American cemetery just a few kilometers away, which we visited the last time we were in the neighborhood. Both of the cemeteries serve as the primary burial ground for soldiers who fought in the Battle of the Bulge, but this one is far more understated than the American cemetery, which was full of grand maps and monuments and memorials. The giant cross at the end marks the communal grave in which unidentified remains are buried.

I found it almost as poignant as the American cemetery, since no matter which side of the war a soldier was on, and no matter what he believed, he was still someone's brother or husband or son or father. Someone missed him when he was gone.

Back in Metz, it turned out that every restaurant we'd found intriguing was full, so we ended up eating at one of the sidewalk tables in a fairly snooty place called Au Pampre d'Or. The view from our table may have had something to do with our decision to eat there...

Not too shabby. Didn't hurt that the weather was absolutely perfect, either.

Sadly, the service made this maybe the longest meal of our lives; the wait between courses--especially given what we paid for this meal--was almost interminable. At least the food was pretty great: Mike started with a foie gras salad with raspberries, mango, and red cabbage, and I went with a dried-tomato-dusted avocado garnished with tomato and olive oil. About a year later, Mike got to enjoy his rack of lamb with veggies and a corn-cream sauce, and my thinly-sliced beef over arugula with shaved parmesan and balsamic vinegar was stellar. Then we got to select some options from the cheese cart--yay!--and ended up sampling nine different varieties between the two of us;**** my favorites were a local cheese covered in cumin seeds, the goat cheese (of course), and a lovely Beaufort (which I've liked all three times I've tried it...so many cheeses in Europe...). Finally, finally, we received our desserts, which consisted of a molten chocolate cake with fruit for Mike, and a bowl of strawberry-basil puree with little meringue "islands" in it for me. (Er, guess who was the flavor winner there.) Our waitress was very sweet, but it was apparently the kitchen's inability to keep up that made an otherwise really good meal into an irritating and pricey (if still tasty) experience. At least I got to stare at the cathedral during sunset, I suppose. That wasn't entirely painful. 

After dinner it was back to the opera house bar for a nightcap, and there we discovered small ballroom full of enthusiastic--and fairly skilled--tango dancers. It was really charming to sit there for a bit, under their giant chandeliers, and to revel quietly in the romance of drinking our prosecco and watching tango dancers glide around a ballroom in a French opera house. Pretty surreal, actually.

It was back into the center the next morning for brunch at Au Marché (yup, again!), which was, in my opinion, a spectacular affair: the entire (not small) bar top was covered in quiches and wraps and pastries and breads and terrines and miniature pastries and pâtés and smoked salmon and gorgeous fruit tarts and juices and coffee and tea, and then, included in your cover charge, was an omelette (your choice of toppings) with salad and roasted potatoes. And the stuff on the bar was all-you-can-eat. Thank goodness we have nothing like that--at least, nothing even remotely affordable--in our own city. I ate so very, very much--have this horrible compulsion to sample everything! 

And with that, our time in Metz came to a close. It's such a lovely, charming, and cozy little city center... I highly recommend spending a few days there, if you're in the neighborhood. (On a side note, which I forgot to mention last time: that city is nothing if not user-friendly. It's extremely well-signed, and look what's on the pavement, to guide you to your 16th-century dragon effigy, or 13th-century tower bridge:

Graoully!

Hee. Love these.)

What we're watching: the World Cup, which has been basically irrelevant for most of our American lives! But was fun to get into, here in a part of the world where people are really passionate about it. (As in, even from our apartment in a fairly quiet neighborhood, several times we could hear shouting and cheering in the streets.) We watched the US team and the Swiss team make it out of the first rounds of play, then get well and truly beaten in the elimination round, but we kept watching. The semifinals were painful--Germany absolutely beat down Brazil, and the Argentina/Netherlands game was the most boring "sporting" event I've ever sat through--but the final was exciting, riveting, and yet still tied-at-zero-almost-the-whole-way-through, until just at the end. Good for you, Germany: you earned it. 

Also (still) watching our way through The West Wing, although we're closing in on the end of it, which makes me sad, because there were so few slow episodes. So many shows get in a good season or two, and then limp along until the network kills them off, or are truly brilliant and get prematurely axed, but this one really stayed consistently good. (Well, almost entirely...no one's writing is perfect, I suppose. But the cast on that show is, sheesh.)

Ooh, and also, we went and saw something new last week: the Alvin Ailey dance company was in town, and we finally went to check them out. (It's been on my list for several, several years now, and I finally bit the bullet and paid Zürich prices to get a good seat.) The first half-hour, 'Grace,' felt a bit one-note for me, although they did some really interesting things with the way the dancers interacted with the lighting, and had some really complex routines going on all over the place...and then the rest was incredible. The next piece was called 'Home,' and was really gorgeous and powerful, and had just about every imaginable style of dance in it, and then we saw the kind of solo I've only ever seen on TV, entitled 'In/Side.' It was just one guy on stage, and the way he can move and bend and control his body is just breathtaking, and so communicative. He was so fragile and exposed (both literally and figuratively, heh--nice shortie shorts!), but still so athletic and strong and sculpted (almost like a piece of art, himself), and it was tremendous. Really, really passionate and beautiful. The last piece, 'Revelations,' was also fantastic--lots of little pieces within one big story, and the best parts were the mostly-balletic pas de deux and this duet between two men set to Nina Simone's Sinnerman. Worth it, people, if you're into dance at all.

What I'm reading: yet another in a long, long string of first-person, female, autobiographical comedy writers. I seem to find them all in a rush, and then read tons. First there was Jen Lancaster, then Sloane Crosley, then, Sara Barron, but the best one I've read lately: The Potty Mouth at the Table, by Laurie Notaro, who makes me laugh out loud on occasion. Be forewarned, the title is accurate, but this lady is funny. I did take a break from female authors to read David Sedaris' latest, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls, which I think I enjoyed far more than I would have, had we not heard him speak in Edinburg last summer. He's also hilarious, but there are tinges of tragedy around the edges of his stories, which I find far less distressing, for some reason, when I can imagine them in his actual voice. (The man is a genius with a written sentence, a talented storyteller, and hysterically funny in person, in case you're wondering.)

What we're eating: lots and lots of grilled things, lately, as we're not letting the weather slow us down on that particular front. (During the World Cup semifinals it was so cold outside we could see our respective breaths, and yesterday it was so hot outside I had all the shades drawn and our little R2D2 air conditioner unit huffing away in the corner.) And also, these brownies (although definitely not the gluten-free version, but isn't it nice that that exists?), and these cheesecake bars, which are definitely my favorite desserts for the summertime. Yaaaaaaay for when cherries and berries and stone fruits are in season!

OH YEAH...and if you haven't already seen this (or even if you have), you should. It's Ned wearing one of Mike's bowties. He did this by himself.

He looks like he's coming home late from some sort of a black-tie affair.

I love it so, so much. This cat rules.

Hmm...this feels like a weirdly short post, but that's probably for the best. Up next: a return trip to Chiavenna and environs for our anniversary. And Mike gets a new belt.

*Another interesting tidbit: it took them sixteen years to disable and/or destroy what they could of the functioning defenses in and around Luxembourg after 1867.

**The Luxembourg City Tourist Office has a lovely brochure for the casemates, which gives you essentially all of the information you could ever want to know about them. It's the main source here for most of the facts 'n figures. (The history major in me insists, on occasion, that I site my sources. I'm not going to lie to you: Wikipedia is usually one of them, although always I cross-reference to make sure I can confirm what they're selling me. HISTORY NERDS UNITE!!)

***I know I don't usually link to tourism offices, but honestly, Luxembourg has the best, and by far most helpful, city website I've ever seen (and believe you me, I do a lot of research before we go places). Decent (if a bit slow) online maps, lots of helpful informational things to download, and those brochures for the Vauban and Wenzel walks MAKE ME NEED TO GO BACK TO LUXEMBOURG AGAIN SO I CAN TAKE THEM. The walks, I mean. That's just good marketing, people, and besides, it's such a fascinating city anyway. (Did I tell you the natives all speak at least four languages?!)

****What?? They were small!

not Metzing around.

So before we go back in time to a lovely land called Metz, I have to announce that we went to the best concert ever last Thursday evening. Sure, it was outdoors, where it was raining and cold (thanks, July in Switzerland!), but it was unbelievable. We went to see Rodrigo y Gabriela, whom we've loved for several years now, and on whose concert we spent a pretty penny...but it was entirely worth it, even in the wretched weather. I guess you could kinda describe their music as flamenco-guitar-meets-hard-rock, but that's not really exactly it. He plays the melodies, more or less, and she provides the rhythm guitar, but quite literally, both by strumming and by drumming on her guitar (to the extent that the first time we saw them, Mike kept trying to figure out where the drummer was hiding). They're extraordinary musicians separately; they each played a lengthy and mind-blowing solo--his was so fast in parts that it was like Flight of the Bumblebee, but on guitar, and the rhythms and music in hers was so intricate that at times it sounded like there were three people playing (drums, a wood block, and the guitar!)--but together they are astounding, and absolutely tremendous to see live. It's just the two of them and their guitars on stage, and no matter the size of said stage, they own it. She's this little pixie of a person who twirls and jumps while she plays, and he tends to end up in the power-guitar stance when playing a particularly intricate solo, and they are mesmerizing and charismatic and utterly unmissable. People, if they play near you, GO. GO NOW. Drive long distances, pay lots of money, and gear up in your finest raincoat and wellies if you have to. You won't be sorry.*

 I really just took this photo to show you all of the raincoats in the audience. It was cold and wet, people, but nobody in this crowd was in a bad mood. Such a great concert!

And now, to Metz, (which is in the Lorraine part of Alsace-Lorraine--parts of France that have alternated several times between French and German control, FYI, as if you didn't already know that, my dear, savvy reader!). Ahh, France: each time I visit you, I like you a little more. Back in May, the Goog (and maybe also Switzerland) was kind enough to provide its employees with a few holidays back-to-back, so off we went on the bike to do a little explorin'. Metz had been on my radar for a while, although I'm not entirely sure how I stumbled across it...I just vaguely remembered photos of picturesque buildings around rivers and something somewhat castlely-looking, and since Mike's a good sport about going wherever, we went. And we found this.

A canal from the Moselle River runs through town. Cathedral up the hill on the left.

Funky building next to old stone bridge, the road across which runs through giant arches in said funky building. Love it.**

First on our list to visit, predictably, was the city's cathedral, Saint-Étienne de Metz. This thing was built (roughly, of course...) between 1220 and 1520, and consecrated around 1550.

Check out the insane detail around this southern portal...!

Super high nave, over 41 meters. 

Apparently, this cathedral has one of the largest expanses of stained glass in the world; collectively speaking, it's around 6,500 square meters, and contains windows made during the 13th through 20th centuries (!). Appropriately, then, the cathedral's nickname is "God's Lantern." This is the gigantic rose window at the western end of the nave.

Our favorite little discovery: this place is full of graffiti from centuries past. Here, one as old as our homeland. (I think the oldest inscription we saw was from 1694.) Oddly enough, none of these are marked for visitors, or--even stranger--protected from visitors.

Purty stained glass patterns on the floor.

Love me some Gothic vaults 'n arches. 

...and some old script. I speak approximately zero French, but Google translate (and the handy-dandy interpretive sign next to this, which was, sadly, only in French) leads me to believe that this is the tombstone of a master mason who died in 1400. 

More windows (rose at top right--SO HUGE).

Detail of the rose window. Yes, I loved this thing. It's so vast, and so high up, yet has all these weeny, woony details going on that you really can't even make out from the cathedral floor. Amazing.

Next, we roamed the streets, as we are wont to do in a new town, and found some dinner at Le Bouchon. We shared an order of escargot (snails: shockingly edible when drowned in garlic and butter and basil!), then Mike had a veal cutlet with reblochon cheese, mushrooms, cream sauce, a salad, and some seriously amazing fries, while I went for the house burger with smoked ham, reblochon, and my own salad and fries. For dessert, we shared the café gourmand, which is one of my favorite French inventions: it's generally a plate of baby desserts--in this case, tiramisu, crème brûlée, and a wee ice cream bar that tasted suspiciously like a Snicker's--served with espresso. Good stuff.

Stumbled across the remains of this Gothic church, which now house a little pizzeria. (Normally I'd wait until the person walking through my shot is gone, but this woman was so...slow.)

The center of Metz is wicked charming, with little glimpses of the cathedral all over the place.

Speaking of which. (Yep, you'll see it again.)

Temple Neuf, the big Protestant church in town, built between 1902 and 1905. 

Day two began with a quick trip through the covered market (Marché Couvert), followed by a stop back by the cathedral to see the treasury and crypt, both of which had been closed by the time we got there the day before. (Totally worthwhile: both are full of all kinds of amazing old stuff, like models of the major cathedrals in France, a 16th-century effigy of the dragon that supposedly harassed the city in the middle ages, and lots of really old gold, silver, and ivory goodies.) Then it was more roaming of the aforementioned streets, but slightly less aimlessly than the day before (i.e., we had places to go!, or at least, I had places to which I needed to drag Mike!).

Interesting tidbit: the covered market was originally built as the bishop's palace--it's right next to the cathedral--but then was never used as such, due to that little uprising known as the French Revolution.

So...many...cheeses...

Hot chocolate callas, which I've never seen before. Incredible color. (They don't bear a huge resemblance to any hot chocolate I've ever imbibed, but maybe they make it differently in France...? Like, really differently?)

No photos allowed in the treasury or crypt, of course, but allow me, if you will, just a few more cathedral details. Like these, around the south portal: DRAGONS! (There was another one nearby that looked like Falcor.)

That's a fairly self-satisfied-looking Madonna, in my opinion.

Outside the cathedral, on the Place d'Armes, were these two rather interesting statues, which turned out to be a monument to the liberation of Metz by the U.S. Third Army. Which happened right here.

Place Saint-Louis, with some of the city's few remaining 13th-century vaulted arcades. (Impossibly charming.) We caught a lovely lunch behind the arcades at Le Saint Louis, wherein Mike had the assiette Lorraine, with the local ham, quiche (but of course!), roasted potatoes, and salad, and I had a perfect warm goat-cheese salad. (Ohhhhhh, but the chèvre chaud in France...could eat every day.)

Next we were off to find the Porte des Allemands, and saw this lovely little Gothic gem (St. Eucaire).

The Porte itself! An honest-to-goodness 13th-century fortress and bridge. Which was currently under restoration, and so I couldn't go climb around on it. Bah, humbug.

The good news is, this city is absolutely covered in ancient remains: here, some 14th-century walls and towers along a river walk. Sheesh.

And still more: the remains of the 14th-century Eglise des Grand-Carmes de Metz. (Which, of course, is right across the street from the gigantic and outrageously Art Nouveau-y Debussy primary school, of which I didn't manage to take any good pictures. Nevertheless, trust when I say that this city is one giant architectural gem.)

Eglise St.-Segolene, parts of whose interior date back to the 13th century, but whose Gothic-appearing facade was actually built at the end of the 19th. 

And inside, it's absolutely covered with Art Nouveau details! Super interesting little church, this.

It's also home to the the oldest stained glass window panel in the Lorraine region: this one, from the 12th century. 

And on to yet another church! On the way to our next point of interest, we walked past this little guy. It wasn't open at the time, but it looked like an interesting building, and as it turns out, it was built by the Knights Templar themselves between 1180 and 1220 (!).

Maybe more impressive, however, was this place right next door: the Basilica of Saint-Pierre aux Nonnains, the oldest church in France. Which was originally built as a Roman gymnasium...i.e., it's been around since 380 AD.

The interior's pretty spartan, but one could assume that over the centuries, a bit of earlier grandeur has been lost...

...as indicated by the small collection of carvings that decorated the chancel around 600. 

And a teensy bit of fresco showing through the plaster in this arch. Neat.

After our mostly-accidental tour o' churches (only the Roman one was on my official "Things to See in Metz" list), we decided to take a stroll through the German Imperial Quarter, which was built during Alsace-Lorraine's first annexation into the German Empire in the late 19th century. Emperor Wilhelm II decided that the city needed a bit more of a German flavor and built a new district with a crazy mix of grandiose styles, thus creating the most amazing street I've ever seen. Soooo much architectural awesomeness in one brief little stretch of street. Mike will affirm that we spent at least half an hour walking two blocks, as I couldn't stop dashing from one side of median (which, by the way, had a gorgeous garden in it) to the other, in order to take photographs of everything.

So as not to bore you entirely, I've just included a few pictures. Here, the north side of Avenue Foch...

...and the south. I just can't. Too much awesomeness.

Look at these details. Look.

Heh, and this place: half Art Nouveau mansion, half Bavarian chateau-y thing, all nuttiness.

Oh yeah, and there was this little guy, too! This is the Tour Camoufle, or "Camouflage Tower," a watchtower built in 1437 and later incorporated into the city's defensive wall. 

In retrospect, I feel as though I should have taken more photos, considering how enthralled I am by this place even now. (I should really learn more about architecture; apparently, I'm a crazy person for it.)

Anyhoo...after that we headed back into town to find dinner. Along the way, we passed this in a store window: 

This bit of sartorial insanity could be yours for the bargain price of 250 euros. (Who knows whether that actually includes the other shoe, if there even is one, because why?? And this is in a grown-up size, people!)

...and then caught dinner at Au Marché, a lovely little restaurant near the cathedral. We split a starter of local meats 'n cheeses (hooray for charcuterie et fromage!), and I don't remember what I originally ordered after that, but they brought me the wrong dish, and thank goodness. That was the best roast pork I've ever had, and it even came with honest-to-goodness vegetables (and some terrific mashed potatoes). Mike had a duck breast with a side of incredible gratin (that's sorta like scalloped potatoes, to us 'mericans), and then the café gourmand for dessert. I opted for the cherry clafoutis--a sort of custard with a ton of fruit baked in--which always sounds good to me in theory, but then turns out a bit too eggy for my taste. At least it was pretty. And had cherries.

Mmmm...dessert...Mike's had the best butterscotch ice cream ever.

After dinner, we strolled across the river to the terrace in front of the Opera House, where we found this lovely, if a bit trippy, little band playing, and had a nice little nightcap outside. 

Temple Neuf--so very pretty in the dark--with the opera house behind.

All of which is across the river from this. I firmly believe that at no point in time would this view ever become tedious or unimpressive.

Even walked past some 15th-century church ruins on the way back to the hotel. Srsly, this city is just magic.

But wait, there's more! Although, in reviewing the current length of this post, I'm going to end it here, just so you can take a little break. Next up, a side trip from Metz back to dear Luxembourg, plus a little catch-up on what we've been watching and eating and stuff like that. See you soon.

*Ooh, and one more thing: they actually did a little sing-along bit in the middle and played Plush by Stone Temple Pilots (and pulled a guy out of the audience to sing it!!), the opening to Bomb Track by Rage Against the Machine (which they then stopped, 'cause nobody knew the words--need some of the ol' KFH crowd for that one!), and then Rodrigo actually sang Radiohead's Creep, which was also one of our favorites from KFH. Sigh. Nostalgia. I don't sing along at concerts, people, but last night I did.

I'd also like to praise the venue, for a moment, if I could: we went to Live at Sunsat at the Dolder, which was the yuppiest venue I've ever been to, but of course, that's right up my alley. Everything was clean and well designed (they put down anti-slip tiles over the concrete! the bathrooms were immaculate, even for Switzerland!); they were handing out free raincoats to those of us who didn't spend quite enough dough to rate a covered seat; they had at least three restaurants/snack bars up there, the food from which smelled and looked absolutely delicious (didn't try any 'cause we'd already had a lovely sushi dinner beforehand, but they even had the local upscale vegetarian chain, Hiltl, there); all drinks were served with actual glass glasses, which they let you take to your seats; and speaking of seats, as we found ours, a lady walked up with a squeegie and chamois cloth and wiped our seats down so that they were dry when we sat. Yes, please. I'll take a dry seat and my water in a wine glass, thank you.

**In the course of trying to figure out the name of this building--it doesn't have a name so much as it's named for the square in its center, Place Valladier--I actually stumbled over an available apartment in it. We could live in a rather large space in this fun building in Metz much more cheaply than we do in Zürich, but let's face it, I'm just not ready to switch over to French quite yet. It's fun to look, though.