just not enough.

It's not quite official, but it's close: I might just have a new favorite place in the world. It's small, it's insanely pretty, and the food rules. Wait, wait, guess where it is. Go ahead...I'll wait.

Surprise, surprise: it's in Italy. I seriously cannot find a place in that country that I don't like, and it seems to only get better and better. Two weekends ago, we took the bike down to Chiavenna, which is just north of the lake district, down at the bottom of a lush little Alpine valley. From Zürich, it's on the other side of one of the most harrowing passes I've ever seen, but also the most spectacular (super sheer drop to the bottom, super tight hairpin turns, and lined with unfairly picturesque little stone villages). For all the effort it took to get there, we should have stayed at least two nights...and now we know that for the next time, 'cause we are going back. Especially since--and you may or may not actually believe this--we went into exactly ZERO museums, churches, or other cultural institutions. IMPOSSIBLE, you may be thinking, but it's true. We had to be outside, 'cause look at this place.

This is the view from our hotel room (!). The bell tower and buildings to its right are the church of San Lorenzo.

The main shopping street. With gigantic mountains at the end.

16th-century castle facade on Piazza Castello, plus some hilltop fortress-y ruins. 

Ugh...it's almost too charming.

Interior of cutest shop EVER. (I was so overwhelmed by its cuteness that I didn't even get its name. I can tell you where it is, though, if you want to visit...)

Table full of old Barolo. (I think the oldest--in the center rear box--was from 1949.)

Another atmospheric street, ending in splendiferous mountains.

So striking.

Did I mention that the Mera river runs right through the center of town? 

'Cause it does. 

Lots of the street-level shops were in these amazing vaulted spaces. Most of the buildings along this main street date to the 16th and 17th centuries.

St. Peter's church, right next to our hotel. The bell tower dates to the 13th century.

As it turned out, our visit coincided with Chiavenna's White Night celebration, which means that there were several live bands playing, people everywhere, and shops open until the middle of the night. As curmudgeony as I can be, it was SO fun to be in a place wherein everything was hopping until the wee hours. We were looking for some local grub, of course, so after roaming the streets for a couple of hours, and catching some aperos in the main square, we headed to Crotto Torricelli for dinner. Culinarily speaking, Chiavenna is primarily famous for its bresaola and for its crotti, little restaurants set against--and into--the cliffs along the valley, and whose cellars, then, are perfect for curing and storing meats, wine, and cheeses. My fantastic meal began with a small plate of bresaola (easily the best I've ever had--so soft and buttery!); next was a plate of pizzocheri (sorta a cross between pasta and wee irregularly-shaped dumplings, and also a local specialty) drenched in cheese, with chunks of potato, and sprinkled with black pepper (YUM, YUM, YUM); and finally a plate of pork cuts with gravy and polenta. Mike started with an opulent meat plate with bresaola, salami, and prosciutto; then had a risotto with bresaola; and finished with a serving of local sausage with potatoes. What a meal, and afterwards, we headed back into the center to participate in the White Night festivities.

Concerts! Shops! Dancing! Fashion shows! Dance halls! Art exhibitions! Entertainment and much more, the whole night! From 3:00 in the PM until 3:00 in the AM. Love it.

There were this many people in the streets. 

These guys were good, and we also saw a pretty decent blues band; a traditional music trio with a (really good!) squeeze box, keyboard, and singer; an Irish band that couldn't quite get their act together and only managed to play two songs (also good, though); and men in drag (in silver sequined dresses, no less!) dancing to 'Gangnam Style' on the main square. We ran into the super friendly proprietor of the aforementioned cute store, then caught some gelato and called it a night. A really good, really fun night.

The next morning, the view from our hotel was this:

So pretty...so dramatic...but not a terribly auspicious view in terms of our ride home, so we grabbed a quick cappuccino and elected to drive down the valley to Lugano, then head north, rather than attempt Splugen Pass again. Naturally, this ride, too, was gorgeous, through several lovely little villages and towns, past church towers and stone buildings, along valley lakes, etc., etc., etc. It was all strikingly lovely (despite a light, but not uncomfortable, drizzle), and  I actually had a few pangs of genuine sadness as we were leaving Italy...so not ready to go!*

As is probably obvious, I was completely and utterly charmed by Chiavenna. This trip was far, far too short, and I hope Mike knows how serious I am about going back (ahem), spending more time, actually visiting the churches/parks/palaces/museums (seriously!)/hiking/eating (and more eating)/everything else. Italy, you have yet to disappoint.

What we're watching: Game of Thrones. Ugh. Seriously, do we have to kill off everyone good? You better unleash those dragons, and soon, to continue making this worth my time. Win Win, a movie about love and desperation and doing the right thing... a funny little piece that made me squirm a bit, but also had a surprisingly heart-warming ending. Really liked it. So You Think You Can Dance, my favorite summertime TV indulgence. (As it turns out, some of these people really can dance. They're downright spectacular.)

What I'm reading: finished off Larry Correia's Monster Hunter International series, and tried to get back into nonfiction, but realized I wasn't quite done with magic and monsters, so I started in on his Grimnoir books, which I think I like even better. They sorta have the basic premise of X-men--society as inhabited by both "Normals" and "Actives," who come with many varieties of magical powers, and the conflicts that arise as a result--but follow a group of particularly powerful Actives who've sworn to use their powers only for good. Thus far, the books are far more interesting than my weak little synopsis here, and extremely creatively and thoroughly imagined. (And wicked violent, just like the last books, but still super entertaining.)

Up next: a trip to Modena...solely based around a single meal. We all saw this coming, didn't we.

*...And then I remembered that we already had plans to go back to Italy the following weekend. That was a load off. (Heh...living in Europe. This is what you do.)

weather, this is unacceptable.

It just half-hailed, or possibly corn-snowed, for a good half hour. Seriously, what's with this heinous weather? Is it not enough, already, that we've had one of the coldest, grayest, latest, worst springs on record? Do you not know that it's almost June? I'm like a delicate little summer flower...I need sunshine and warmth to thrive, for crying out loud, and you're not giving me either. I just read this article and almost cried. Why can this not happen just a little sooner? If it doesn't get warm-ish and at least marginally more sunny outside, I'm fairly certain that I will actually become part of my couch. Mike will have to bring me food and drink and occasionally vacuum the cat hair from my fabric surface. This weather is giving me zero motivation to get active, or even to get out of bed in the morning, really. BLEH, I say.

In other news, the place that I'm currently freezing in is our brand new loft-y apartment, ta-daaaahhh!. Ok, it's not brand new, but it's new to us, and that's something, right? The building itself was built somewhere in the early 1900s and was some sort of factory for a while, then got converted to lofts and really amazing office spaces, and now has protected monument status. (I like that last bit.) We had to work fairly hard to find, and then to get into, this place...we probably visited 20 apartments over the last several months, and just didn't see anything we were really sold on, until we saw this same model of apartment in the same building, but a floor lower, back in February. Sadly, they rejected our first application (yep, that's a thing here...the market is so competitive that they can take whomever they darn well please), but we somehow managed to weasel our way into the next apartment that opened up in the building (which was incredibly surprising in how quickly that happened), so...hooray! And all that. And now, to the photos.

Dining area.

Dining and kitchen, which is just one giant island and a wall o' cabinets.

View from dining to the guest "room" at the other end. And ping pong in the middle, heh heh. 

Guest "room," consisting of two wardrobes and a bookshelf. Certainly not as cat-proof as the actual bedroom we had in the old place, but hey...if you come visit, it's still a free bed in Zürich.

Our wee bedroom, in which the door clears the end of the bed by no more than two inches. (The hideous, half-mirrored wardrobe comes courtesy of the previous tenant, who bought the appropriate furniture to fill this place, then realized the odds of him finding another apartment that could hold it all were nil. So yaaay, more [mostly useful] furniture for us, but booo, most of it's ugly. Except the couch of which I am becoming a part.)

Here's Mike's favorite part: the roof terrace. We don't have a balcony anymore, but we do have access to the 800-square-meter party pad on the roof. From which you can actually see the Alps on a clear day. (Not that we have those here, mind you.)

Ok, so we had a few, very brief moments of clear-enough weather earlier this week.* Look how pretty. 

We also have a fantastic view of the Uetliberg tower and hotel from here (far right, top of the hill), which is where they shoot off some pretty good fireworks throughout the year (woooooo! fireworks! wooo!).

There's a narrow green-roof-type space between the floor of the terrace and the railing around it, which is obviously not planted with anything on purpose, but has sprung up with all sorts of little succulents and a few pretty flowers. These fall somewhere in the onion family.

Dianthus, maybe? Growing on our roof! 

Love the exterior. 

And that's what's happening in our neck of the woods. I really just wanted to rant about the weather, but I promised you new apartment info, so I figured I should deliver at least that. Enjoy your holiday weekend, US-dwellers, and I'll post again the next time something worthy arises. (With this weather, don't hold your collective breaths...)

*Twenty minutes later, it poured rain for an hour.

stress, part 2.

And now, back to our story. And the much-hyped stress. (Beware: lots of cat drama at the end down there. You've been warned.)

After Luxembourg, it was off to Trier by train. I don't remember how I first found out about Trier, but it appealed to me for three reasons: 1), it's in Germany, where we can sorta speak a little of the language; 2), it's the oldest city in Germany (founded in or before 16 BC!!), and 3) they have Roman ruins . Done, done, and done.

As it turns out, Trier is actually quite well known on the tourist circuit, so when we arrived, the main sites were quite crowded. Including this fantastic thing, which was immediately next to our hotel:

Porta Nigra! The largest and best-preserved Roman city gate north of the Alps. Built sometime during the 2nd century AD; converted into a church sometime during the 11th century after the death of its resident monk, St. Simeon; church dismantled by Napoleon during the early 19th century...this thing has has all kinds of crazy interesting history, and it's wicked impressive.

Here's the back side, with a tourist or two. (Fact: the name "Porta Nigra" dates only back to the middle ages, as the sandstone had already blackened by then. The original Latin name is lost.)

Naturally, we had to go inside. 

There are all sorts of intricate carvings inside, dating back to its use as a church.

From each passage, you can see down to the floor below.

Lots of really intricate details.

View from the top into the medieval center of town.

The actual guided tours were being given by these shouty guys wearing full centurion gear. Heh. (You can tell by Fur Hood there on the left that it was cold in Trier.)

Thought this inscription was interesting: both sides are in Latin, but the script is so different.

The main square at Hauptmarkt. The tower on the left is the 14th-century Market Church of St. Gangolf** (which served as both church and watchtower), and the white building on the right is a reconstruction of the Steipe, or city council's banquet hall, originally built in 1483 but destroyed during WWII.

Random little arch over Liebfrauenstrasse, with the cathedral behind.

Cathedral (left, behind) and Liebfrauenkirche (right, front): oldest cathedral and Gothic church in Germany, respectively, dating roughly to the 9th (although some walls portions are older and Roman) and 13th centuries, respectively.

The whole ensemble is pretty massive (here, the front of the cathedral, with Liebfrauenkirche on the right).

Didn't get to go inside the Liebfrauenkirche, but we did get to see the inside of the cathedral. Fairly vast and relatively sparse, save a few baroque details, but it did have this: the chapel of the Holy Robe, supposedly the tunic of Jesus. Visitors can only enter the chapel on one day each year, and even then you don't get to see the robe. Innnnteresting. I do like that on their website, though, they claim right up front that there's no way to prove the robe actually belonged to Jesus. Way to keep it real, kids.

Slightly southeast of the cathedral is the massive, red brick Konstantin Basilica, which was originally built as a throne for the emperor Constantine around the year 310, and incorporated into the Electoral Palace (the pink part) in the 17th century. Today the basilica serves as a protestant church.

A ten-minute walk south of the basilica, along a Roman wall, we found the Kaiserthermen (Imperial Baths), also constructed for Constantine and finished around 314.

They are supposedly the largest baths outside Rome (yeah, you're really not going to beat Caracalla or Diocletian.)

Kaiserthermen.

Best thing about the baths: there were heaps of subterranean tunnels for exploration.

Awesome. We were expecting neither the size nor the underground component of these baths, and it was a delightful surprise.

All this 'sploring made for a busy day, so we elected to have dinner relatively close to our hotel, just off the main square at the Ratskeller. I started with goulash soup, and Mike with onion soup; then I went for one of their Russian dishes (oddly enough, their house specials were mostly Russian), chicken stuffed with cheese, sour cream, and mushrooms, with delicious roasted potatoes; Mike opted for steak with peppercorn sauce and potatoes; and we actually skipped dessert. (Shocking, I know, but sometimes there's only so much you can eat.)

Day two in Trier began with the Easter Sunday service at the cathedral, which I have to say I found a bit impenetrable. Something was lacking for me...maybe it was just the size of the cathedral, or the sheer number of people in attendance that made it all feel very impersonal. Yes, the service was in German, but that wasn't the issue; last year, we attended a service in French that I found really moving, but this year I just didn't have that feeling. It could also have been the Catholic aspect of the service--I have absolutely zero problem with the Catholic tradition and style of worship, but it's just not for me. It's like they have a secret code, with all of the kneeling and bits of music in Latin and call-and-response that everyone else knows and can follow, but not me...it's like if you don't know the secret code, then you don't get to worship. And I can't kneel 'cause my knees are stupid-painful and noisy*, and so I always feel like all of the kneelers around me (especially the devout old people, who, I'm sure, have arthritis and all manner of other things that make it hard for them to kneel, and so why shouldn't I be kneeling, too??) are judging me when I just remain sitting. (And also, it's not part of my own worship tradition, so that makes it weird for me to kneel, too.) Plus, we had somehow gotten the wrong programs and couldn't even follow along with anything in the songbook. It was utterly disappointing. 

[WARNING: cat drama ahead. Just quit now, if you're not into tales of overwhelming guilt. Or cats.] 

And then, things took a turn for the seriously, seriously worse. After church, Mike received a truly desperate couple of text messages from our cat lady regarding the health of my dear Ned. She had actually begun texting us on our first day in Luxembourg, as Ned entirely refused to take his pill in any form from her, but we then exchanged ideas on how to get him to ingest the stupid thing and she went off to try them. Over that day and the next, we continued to receive messages from her that were alternatively reassuring, and then concerning, and she eventually had her biologist husband come with her on day 3 to help give Ned his pill the old-fashioned way: no treats involved, just stick it down his throat. While I was actually really worried about my stubborn little jerk of a cat, I had gone to bed the night before Easter feeling like things were still mostly ok, since he'd actually taken that last pill, but her final text message more or less read, "Ned is hiding in the dark, he won't eat, he can't keep his eyes open, the other two cats are worried about him and also won't eat, you should come home." 

What the...? Ok, then, call off the rest of the trip, we're going home. So we spent the next seven hours in transit, with me nauseous and in tears most of the way, convinced that I had killed my poor cat. In my cat lady's defense, she was relatively new to the profession and didn't really have the confidence to make Ned take his pill, but I also think that her anxiety really amped up Ned's own stress, and it was just a horrible downward spiral. Really, though, the fault lay with me, as I was overconfident that Ned would conduct himself for her as he does for me, and I planned a trip that was entirely too far from home (we should have stayed within a couple of hours!), and I didn't really provide her with adequate back-up methods to try, should the pill-in-treat method not work. The whole situation was terrible, terrible, terrible, and poor Ned remained quiet and mopey and utterly not himself for about two weeks. He lost weight, got all sorts of mats in the fur around his face, and slept most of the time. I cried a lot and felt horribly guilty and assumed that he was probably going to leave us soon, despite the fact that he was back on his meds and the vet could find nothing wrong. I had a nice talk-it-out with my cat lady, who later left us anyway, because we were moving to the other side of the lake (but obviously, the whole stupid pill situation was problematic as well). I felt so guilty about putting her in such a bad situation, and even worse for abandoning my sick cat to indulge my own travel habits...Ned and I were both not right for a while. 

And then I decided that if Ned was going to leave us, I'd try to make his remaining time with us as good as possible, and lo and behold if he didn't start pulling out of whatever funk he was in. I'm not saying my turn for the better made his happen, but...he got steadily better, I felt less sad and guilty, and one day we all woke up and were normal again. It felt like a small miracle. I had no idea how attached I really was to these fuzzy little jerks, and losing one through my own arrogance and carelessness would probably have really messed me up. I'm getting queasy and teary just thinking about all of this stupid drama, and why couldn't it have been Stewie that had to take the pill? That cat loves everything remotely edible and is never quarrelsome...unlike Ned, who comes with his own instruction manual (do not pet on belly, do not pet at all when tail twitches, do not pick up, do not touch feet, must eat special food, etc., etc., etc.). 

So. We still find ourselves without someone to watch our animals when we travel, but I've dug up a few options, and now that Ned takes his pill with tuna (uppity little snob), I am very cautiously optimistic that we may one day be able to travel again. Probably. And someday I will return to Trier to see all of the awesome things (15th-century boat-loading cranes! the river! more baths! Liebfrauenkirche! the Roman artifact museum! et al.) that we missed on that last day...and hopefully in better weather (i.e., without horizontally-blowing wind and snow flurries).

WOW, sorry to ramble on thusly, but that was a pretty rough patch in our household and a much bigger deal than it should have been, by all rights. For me, it was a major part of the last few months and it's a little cathartic to have it all written down. Anyway, moving on.

But first, a rare moment of peace between Ned and Stew, enjoying some sunshine on the vast, vast window sills of the new apartment. 

What we're watching: last night, it was Moonrise Kingdom, which I will admit actually lives up to the hype. Frankly, I loved it. What a weird, quirky little love story with moments of genuine sadness and hilarity. Go, watch it now. You won't be sorry.

My favorite things: this video that Mike found. IT'S HILARIOUS 'CAUSE IT'S TRUE OF CATS EVERYWHERE. (Disclaimer: this has one or two bad words...don't watch with impressionable little ones around.) For even more awesomeness, watch some of zefrank's 'True Facts' videos...especially the anglerfish one. That's the best. (There's some blue humor in several of them, but for the most part, HAH. Good stuff.)

Next up: a quick photo journey through the new digs. 

*Don't believe me? Ask me for a demo sometime. You'll regret it.

**AAAGGHHHH! St. Gandalf is what they obviously meant.

Source

I'll have the feierstengszalot, please, with a side of stress.

So 2013 hasn't exactly shaped up to be our big travel year just yet, extra trip to the US in February notwithstanding. We did, however, manage to make a trip to Luxembourg and Trier over the Easter weekend: Mike had two whole days off from work*, and so we decided we'd better make the most of a genuinely long weekend. I've been fascinated by Trier for a while, and most routes there from here go through Luxembourg, so it wasn't too difficult to talk Mike into heading northwest for a few days. Woooo, travel!

Here's where the stressful part arrives. About a month prior to that weekend, my dear cat Ned had started having seizures. Thankfully, thankfully, they weren't terribly severe, and didn't last very long, and needless to say, I was in a ridiculous state of panic. Our calm, reassuring vet seemed to know almost instantly that A) this was fairly routine epilepsy; B) it was of the mildest type; and C) we could treat it simply by giving good old Ned a pill every day. Which might actually be simple, for a cat that's motivated by food, like Stewie. Ned, not so much. Fortunately, I had some soft treats in which I could hide the pill, and he would take them, with no fuss and no problem. This worked fine for a few weeks, and I assumed that this would continue to work.

Fast forward to our triumphant arrival in Luxembourg** (the city proper, which is not called Luxembourg City, but that's precisely what it is, and who would ever have thought that it might be confusing to have both a country and its main city with the same exact name??), which, as it turns out, is truly stunning. The architecture reminds me a bit of Paris and a bit of Belgium, and the old town is built on top of the hills and in the valleys surrounding a couple of drastic bends in the Alzette and Petrusse rivers. It's just gorgeous. Sadly, the weather while we were there was relatively overcast, and I somehow couldn't quite find any of the breathtaking views you see if you Google images of the city, so you'll just have to take my word for it. My photos do not do it justice.

Our first evening in town, we stumbled upon the Grand Ducal Palace (with attached Parliament on the far right end, and only open to tourists in the summertime, sadly), purely by accident.

Place Guillaume...massive and open and surrounded by some interesting old buildings.

A few lovely Art Nouveau-y details on Place d'Armes.

City Palace, Place d'Armes.

This is what I liked most about Luxembourg: all sorts of narrow, old streets, with mysterious spires and arches and corners and alleys and wonky little passages that made you want to explore everything.

Dinner on Day 1 was at Wäistuff Restaurant Kniddelkinnek, which was in a fantastic building right across the street from our hotel, down this crazy little passage between (and maybe partially under?) two medieval buildings. It turned out to be an extremely cool cellar-like restaurant, complete with giant open stone hearth, super thick stone walls and arched doorways, and an authentic Luxembourgish menu. Mike had a plate of local ham and salad, and I had a gigantic heap of the aforementioned feierstengszalot, which turned out to be a cold salad of cubed beef, mustard, pickles, and who knows what else (much tastier than it sounds, actually); we split a side of some of the most tremendous potatoes ever, fried with bacon and onions; and shared waffle with homemade ice cream, whipped cream, and berries for dessert. Naturally, we had to try out the local wine; the Pinot Gris was quite good.

Day 2 began with a breakfast of madeleines and cream puffs and coffee at the Lea Linster Delicatessen, and how truly, truly tasty it was. Then it was off to the cathedral, on which building began in 1613. While the original remaining Gothic elements (vaulted ceilings, arched windows, and some carvings) were impressive, modern renovations made it fairly disappointing for me, which we all know is highly unusual, given my obsession with interest in cathedrals. Thankfully, we were right across the street from Place de la Constitution and the entrance to the Petrussé casemates (one of two in Luxembourg that you can visit...!), which is where we headed next.

Not the greatest of photos, I'll admit, but you get a feeling for the tunnels. This network was originally built in 1644 (!) by the Spanish as part of an insanely elaborate defense system around the city; was enlarged (and later partially dismantled) over the next two centuries by the Austrians, French, Belgians, Dutch, and Italians; sheltered the city's inhabitants during WWII air raids; and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site (along with all of the old town and its associated fortifications). (Thanks for the info, Luxembourg Tourism Office! Ok, so we did take a guided tour, but I took my sweet time writing this post, obviously, so all of our awesome guide's info was largely forgotten.)

Nineteenth-century Prussian cannon under the Beck Bastion, overlooking the Petrussé Valley. Another awesome thing about Luxembourg: all of its hillsides and valleys are just loaded with fortress walls, tunnels, towers, etc., etc. Neat.

Next, we traipsed outside the city center to the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial,*** which is not only the final resting place of General George S. Patton, Jr. (killed in a car wreck, oddly enough), but also the primary American cemetery for soldiers killed at the Battle of the Bulge (holy smokes, this is something that I learned about in college, and actually still remember). It was the first military cemetery outside of the U.S. for both Mike and I, and a place that I found truly poignant.

Memorial chapel.

General Patton's grave.

There are 5,076 headstones here, including 118 Stars of David, 101 unknown soldiers, and 371 missing in action. There were also large, standing relief maps depicting both Allied and German troop movements during the Battle of the Bulge, which occurred not too far north of this site.

Getting out to the cemetery was a bit of a haul, so the end of Day 2 involved a walk around La Corniche, on the 17th-century Spanish ramparts two minutes from our hotel. Awesome. (Sadly, we did not get to the second set of casemates, so there will be a second visit to this amazing city.) Turns out, you have essentially a 360-degree view of loads of old fortress-y stuff from La Corniche. 

Stuff You Can See From La Corniche: part of the Bock casemates (left and bottom center) and the 19th-century viaduct bridge.

SYCSFLC: the 14th-century Wenceslas wall.

SYCSFLC: the spires of the cathedral (center), fortress ramparts, and St. Michael's church on the right.

SYCSFLC: the "Hollow Tooth," the only surviving part of Luxembourg's original 10th-century castle.

SYCSFLC: fortress walls as a foundation for old town on the left, Bock promontory (site of the founding of the city in 963) in the center, and the business district in the back. (Apparently, there's lots of interesting modern architecture in the Kirchberg district of Luxembourg, across the valley on that plateau, but we couldn't be bothered this time around. All of the photos make it look like scenes of the future in 1950s comic books. I am intrigued.)  

Across the Alzette valley, to the north: more fortressy stuff.  Fort Thüngen and Les Trois Glands ("the Three Acorns", 18th century).

Er, as you can see, there is quite literally old stuff everywhere. This place is a history-architecture-photography nerd's dream come true, and we only got to see about half of the fortresses and churches and crypts and other assorted historical sites that I feel we should have explored. Sigh.

Anyway, we just kinda lucked out with dinner on Day 2: earlier in the day we'd spotted another fascinating little cellar restaurant, also just across the street from our hotel, and they were able to squeeze us in (sans reservation, shame on us!) around 9:15. The place was packed, which is always a good sign, and the food at Am Türmschen turned out to be really good. To start, I had some fantastic potato soup (the Luxembourgers do amazing things with potatoes), and Mike had a salad with extra garlicky-buttery shrimp (YUM); then came a salad with goat cheese, grapes, apples, and balsamic vinegar for me, and a traditional Luxembourgish dish of pork with broad beans for Mike; and to finish, we split a chocolate lava cake (or whatever they call them in this part of the world). A great way to conclude our stay in one of my new favorite cities.

And with that, I'm going to go ahead and wrap up this post here, so that it doesn't run excessively long...but the continuation should be coming right up. (Seriously, it's basically finished, as well. I know you don't believe me, but for reals. More in a minute.)

Um, oops...just realized that I didn't get to the actual "stress" referred to in the title of this post. Suffice it to say, for now, that it had to do with my stubborn, weird little cat, and my poor cat lady, who had to deal with him in our absence. Ugh. What a mess. Stay tuned, campers. 

*Have I mentioned that in Switzerland, if a holiday falls on a weekend, one simply does not get that time off from work? Holiday, schmoliday, say the Swiss. I think it's kind of a jerk move.

**And also, did you know that Luxembourg is technically a duchy? In fact, the only remaining Grand Duchy in existence? I did not. (At least, that's what Wikipedia says it is, and they're a reliable source, right...?) And also, they have three official languages--French, German, and Luxembourgish. Pretty much everyone speaks English, too, so kids grow up there knowing four languages, right off the bat. SOOOO JEALOUS.

***Look, folks, it's a bit of a slog to get out here from the city center, and actually impossible to find good directions on the interwebs, so here it is: the definitive guide to reaching the American cemetery in Luxembourg, without a car! Take bus 15 heading east-ish from the main train station in the direction of Hamm/Rue de Bitbourg (you can buy a ticket as you get on the bus), then exit the bus at the Käschtewee stop. Continuing along the Rue Haute in the same direction as the bus, you'll pass a roundabout on your left, and then you'll go up a sideway along a the entrance to Highway 2/Val de Hamm. From here there's actually a reasonably well-marked, (mostly) paved walking path to the cemetery. (The route follows Highway 2/Val de Hamm for a short way, then veers off down the hill to the right, goes under another highway, curves left, then continues on until it curves sharply around to the right, and you're at the gates. You can kinda see it on the satellite view of Google maps--it essentially follows the Val du Scheid road east from Highway 2/Val de Hamm.) It's at least a 20-minute walk from the bus stop, but not a difficult one, and easy to get back to the bus stop once you've made your way from there. And I'm sure as soon as I publish this entry that they'll change the bus routes, or the walking path, or something, but at least for now, here are those directions. (Visitors not in tour buses or cars, you're welcome.)