Wine Dine & Travel Magazine Summer/Fall 2019 Discovering Portugal Edition

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WDTRAVEL WINE DINE + TRAVEL MAGAZINE SUMMER/ FALL2019

DISCOVERING PORTUGAL ANORWAY TRILOGY 1

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RON & MARY’S EDITOR’SNOTE

THE BOOKING GAME Since the advent of the internet, acting as your own travel agent has become the norm, not the exception. Nowadays, in addition to flights, rental cars and tours, most experienced travelers book their own accommodations.

Doing it yourself definitely can save money and turn up the perfect situation, but there are minefields and deceptive practices common in the hospitality industry that can turn that dream vacation into a nightmare.

A multitude of apps, internet sites, and tools make it easy to book and we generally use a combination of them when doing our research and making reservations. Over the decades of booking our own travels, we have made plenty of mistakes but with each error, we become a little wiser and a little more cautious as we do our booking due diligence.

Here are some lessons we’ve learned.

Consider the location carefully. Many travelers will save a few bucks by booking on the outskirts of the tourist areas. If they’re not careful, they wind up spending valuable vacation time and money getting to a destination only to say in a business hotel in the burbs. The room rate may be a bargain, but they might have failed to consider the time drag of long public transportation trips, rush hour traffic delays, and parking searches. Life and most vacations - are too short. It’s worth spending some extra to be in the center of things, to simply walk out of your hotel and stroll to attractions and restaurants.

Size matters when it comes to rooms.

Many hotels have a few closet-sized rooms designed as teasers for booking engines. We could barely find a place to store bags in one

London “flat” we rented. Unless you really like the coziness of a tiny room make sure to click the details link to learn the room’s square footage to be sure you’re not booking a closet.

Check for deceptive additional hidden fees or taxes. Many hotels, resorts, and chains are adding “resort fees” for things that should be included or that you don’t want or need. There are several state lawsuits that aim to make these practices illegal. Until then check the bottom line before you click “Book.”

Make sure you can cancel without penalty.

Itineraries change and life happens, so being able to cancel is essential. Some booking companies like Booking.com have a filter for displaying only cancellable accommodations.

Be sure that the option is stated clearly on your booking and save the confirmation or email if you decide to cancel. On our last trip, we canceled a room only to be charged for four nights on our credit card. Because we had an email proving we canceled, the credit card company removed the charge.

Finally, make sure that just getting to your accommodation doesn’t become a nightmare.

Twice in Portugal’s walled towns with their ancient narrow cobblestone streets, we experienced challenging and even dangerous situations trying to drive to and park at our hotel.

Other problems range from lack of an elevator, no airconditioning, noise or smell from the bar below, etc. Dig into the details and read the reviews. Misadventures may make for great stories, but they’re lousy for a relaxing vacation or a good night’s sleep.

Ron & Mary James Ron & Mary James Publishers & Editors WDT

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EDITORS/PUBLISHERS Ron & Mary James ASSISTANT EDITOR Mia Sellfe

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ART DIRECTOR Don Inhousen CIRCULATION Jake Washington STAFF WRITERS Alison DaRosa Priscilla Lister John Muncie Jody Jaffe Kitty Morse John Freeman FEATURE WRITERS Sharon Whitley Larsen Carl Larsen Maribeth Mellin Amy Laughinghouse Judy Garrison Wibke Carter

THE COVER SHOT Cover photo: Ron James took this shot on his last day in beautiful Cascais, Portugal. All of the photos in the Discovering Portugal

Margie Goldsmith Michael Burge Brian Clark ADVERTISING SALES

special feature were shot using a LG V-40 cellphone.

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Wine Dine & Travel Magazine is a Wine Country Interactive Inc. Publication @2019 Corporate headquarters SanDiego,California Contact ron@winedineandtravel.com

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DISCOVERING PORTUGAL EDITION

CONTENTS

WDT TRAVELWRITERS Ron James

Wine Dine & Travel Magazine.

Mary James h TheSanDiegoUnion-Tribune, SanDiegoHome-Garden/Lifestyles

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DISCOVERING PORTUGAL Our Portugal odyssey was a true adventure, full of joy, surprises, and a few misadventures. We met wonderful people, we enjoyed great food and wine, we saw incredible natural beauty, and we soaked in the incredible art and history of Portugal.

And in the end, we fell in love with this small country with a giant heart.

TIPSY TRIPPING IN HAMPSHIRE My eye wanders over sprawling vineyards, the waiter hands me a glass of local English sparkling wine. Wait. What? I’m in England?

THE UNKNOWN KENNEDY Many people are familiar with the tragic story of the Kennedys. But few know much about Kathleen, who snagged a wealthy, titled British aristocratic .

LANZAROTE “I’ve been assured, however, those towering “ant hills” were not made by giant alien insects at all. Oh, no. Those were created by volcanoes. Um, not to worry, then, right?”

FOREST FENN’S TREASURE Somewhere in the mountains north of Santa Fe, Forrest Fenn, a legendary former fighter pilot and art dealer has hidden a treasure chest .

Amy Laughinghouse LonelyPlanet.com, AAA Journey Magazine,Virtuoso Life, and The Dallas Morning News

Jody Jaffe & John MuncieMuncie BaltimoreSun Times.

f TheSanDiegoUnion-Tribune,arts editor of The TheLosAngeles

The New YorkTimesand The LosAngelesTimes

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THE KASBAH TRAIL

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FIESTA IN MEXICO

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LOS CABOS

I first travelled as a child with my parents along Morocco”s mythical Kasbah Trail, the narrow ribbon of asphalt that links a string of crenelated kasbahs in the shadow of the snow-capped High Atlas Mountains. In the twenty-first century, this “Road of One Thousand Kasbahs,” as travel brochures sometimes refer to it, has become one of Morocco’s prime tourist destinations..

Horse hooves clatter on cobblestone streets. Masked dance troupes in ribbons and fringe primp and preen as paradewatchers stream toward El Jardín and the pinkhued neoGothic Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel. Fireworks pop in the background. Drummers practice their riffs.

San Miguel de Allende, known for its endless processions and fiestas, is ready to celebrate its patron saint.

If Cabo triggers memories of spring-breakwild-child rowdies guzzling tequila shooters at jam-packed back-street bars, it’s time you re-visited. Los Cabos has long been Dos Cabos: High-octane party central at Cabo San Lucas on the tip of Baja and the tranquil old-Mexico colonial town of San Jose del Cabo to the northeast.

Alison DaRosa Tribune

The SanDiegoUnionSanDiegoNewsNetwork Travel the SanDiegoUnion-Tribune LosAngelesTimes,USATodayand AOLTravel

Carl H. Larsen

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DISCOVERING PORTUGAL Our Portugal odyssey was a true adventure, full of joy, surprises, and a few misadventures. We met wonderful people, we enjoyed great food and wine, we saw incredible natural beauty, and we soaked in the incredible art and history of Portugal.

And in the end, we fell in love with this small country with a giant heart.

TIPSY TRIPPING IN HAMPSHIRE My eye wanders over sprawling vineyards, the waiter hands me a glass of local English sparkling wine. Wait. What? I’m in England?

THE UNKNOWN KENNEDY Many people are familiar with the tragic story of the Kennedys. But few know much about Kathleen, who snagged a wealthy, titled British aristocratic .

LANZAROTE “I’ve been assured, however, those towering “ant hills” were not made by giant alien insects at all. Oh, no. Those were created by volcanoes. Um, not to worry, then, right?”

Sharon Whitley Larsen

Maribeth Mellin

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Wibke Carter German-born Wibke Carter has lived in New Zealand and New York, and presently enjoys life, love, and laughter in London. Her work has appeared in The Globeand Mail, TheSan FranciscoChronicle, BInspired Magazine,TheIndependent and more. When not traveling, she is trying to tame her two cats and improve her DIY skills

Michael Burge Michael Burge is an award-winning journalist who worked for many years as an assistant metro editor and senior writer for TheSanDiegoUnion-Tribune.Michael and his wife, Kathleen, have logged countless miles visiting adult children in Asia and Scotland. The couple met as PeaceCorps volunteers in Kenya, so they have no one to blame but themselves for their globe-trotting offspring.

Priscilla Lister Priscilla Lister is a longtime journalist in her native SanDiego. She has covered many subjects over the years, but travel is her favorite. Her work, including photography, has appeared in The SanDiego Union-Tribune, LosAngelesTimes,Alaska Airlines’ magazine and numerous other publications throughout the U.S.and Canada.She is the author of “Take a Hike: San Diego County,” a comprehensive hiking guide to 260 trails in amazing San Diego County.

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GOING ROGUE

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NORWAY MAGIC

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NORWAY IN A NUTSHELL

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EATING BERGEN

Wth its soothing siren call, the Rogue River draws me back every few years to kayak its frolicking rapids, revel in it verdant canyons, hike up its side creeks and sleep on its welcoming beaches.

Picture a dark blue crystalline sea that winds through narrow passages flanked by virtually vertical rocky cliffs rising some 4,000 feet high, where isolated, historic wooden farmhouses dot leaf-green meadows.

They always say "save the best for last."

And that's what I, a dedicated train lover, did when my wife, Sharon, and I finally had a chance to take off on another one of my bucket-list adventures through the heart of Norway.

Most veteran world travelers know the best way to discover a city is to take a local food tour to discover the places the locals eat drink and socialize. During a recent port stop in Bergen, Norway we found even a better way to get an insider’s experience when our friends Knut and Johanna Kristiansen

Judy & Len Garrison Judy is the editor of GeorgiaConnector Magazineand PeachState Publications as well as a freelancewriter/photographer/traveler for national/international publications including Deep South Magazine, Interval Magazine, Simply Buckhead, USAirways Magazine, Southern Hospitality Travelerand has a bi-monthly blog in Blue Ridge Country’s online edition. She and Len own Seeing Southern,L.L.C.,a documentary photography company.

Margie Goldsmith Margie Goldsmith is a NYC-based author, writer and photographer who has explored 140 countries on seven continents. She has won 85 awards including the prestigious Lowell Thomas Travel Journalism Gold Award. She has written over 1,000 articles for RobbReport, Travel + Leisure,BusinessJet Traveler, American Way, Hemispheres,Wall Street Journal, Globe and Mail.

Brian Clark Brian Clark is a Madison, Wisconsin-based writer and photographer who likes to ski, kayak,scuba dive, bicycle and sail as often he can. A former staff writer for TheSanDiegoUnion-Tribune,he now contributes to a number of publications.

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DISCOVERING

PORTUG

STORYBYRONANDMARYJ

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JAMES | PHOTOGRAPHYBYRONJAMES

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INTRODUCTION TO

Portugal BEYOND SARDINES & FADO

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t’s funny how hot new destinations pop onto a traveler’s radar. Influential travel writers suddenly focus on a locale, around forever but invisible, and in a flash, savvy travelers are booking flights and packing bags. Portugal is a good recent example, an off-the-radar destination long overshadowed by its popular European neighbors. But in the last year or so, this small country got the big buzz and, as we discovered on our recent adventure there, deservedly so.

In 2019, Portugal was named Europe's leading destination in the annual World Travel Awards and its largest city, Lisbon, was ranked No. 18 on

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TripAdvisor’s 25 top destinations. USA TODAY included Portugal on its list of 2019’s hottest destinations. And no wonder, It has everything veteran travelers desire - friendly people, a moderate climate, great cuisine, stunning natural beauty and rich history with fascinating UNESCO World Heritage sites. Plus it's very affordable.

My wife Mary and I got our first taste of Portugal a few years ago when our Celebrity transatlantic cruise made a port stop in Lisbon. We arranged a shore excursion that included a drive-through tour of Lisbon, a short shopping visit to Sintra, and an incredible seafood feast in

Cascais. The tour ended with our first taste of Portugal’s most famous dessert, pastel de nata, a fresh custard tart from the original bakery in Belem. The tour left a delicious impression, and Portugal skyrocketed out of nowhere to top our must-return list.

Portugal also fit another agenda for us.

We would like to find a destination to serve as a home base for a few months annually while we explore greater Europe. After a lot of homework, we narrowed the list of potentials to Spain, Italy, France, and Portugal. Assessing the pros and cons of affordability, weather, cuisine, and stability, Portugal easily rose to the top of the list, with Spain a close second.

We returned to Portugal earlier than expected via another Celebrity transatlantic cruise from Florida to Southampton, England.

We flew from London to Lisbon for a threeweek exploration, joined by our friends Barbara and Ira Gruber, a fun-loving couple from Los Angeles we met a few years earlier on a cruise around Japan.

Our journey crisscrossed Portugal north to south, visiting as many regions as we could -- hopefully with enough time at each destination to get a feel for it. The first stop - Sintra, the retreat of kings - was “It seems like in just the small followed by Porto, where country is the big buzz as one of we rented a car for the rest the hottest destinations in the of our journey. travel community -- and as we just Our odyssey was full of found out, deservedly so.” joy, surprises, and a few misadventures. We met wonderful people, enjoyed great food and wine, saw incredible natural beauty, and soaked up the country’s incredible art and history. In the end, we fell in love with this small country with a giant heart.

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Potugal’s DNA Veteran travelers know it’s important to grasp the underpinnings of a country’s people and culture before a visit. As we know, Europe’s nations differ dramatically from each other even though they've shared the same borders for centuries. A look at Portugal’s history sheds light on how this phenomenon occurs.

Geography played a leading role in shaping Portugal. The country's south and west perimeters are guarded by the Atlantic Ocean, while its north

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and east borders push against the rugged Pyrenees Mountains and Spain. Theses buffers set this small country apart politically, culturally, and economically from the rest of Europe. Also, its long Atlantic coast a geographic wild card - facilitated its historic global exploration, colonization, and national identity.

Foreign invaders and occupiers were also major influences, evident everywhere in the country.

Portugal has been occupied on and off since 3000 BC when the Lusitanians first settled the Douro

Valley near present-day Porto. They spread through much of the Iberian Peninsula mixing with Celtic tribes that arrived around 1000 BC. The Romans invaded the peninsula 800 years later, establishing towns at the present-day sites of Braga, Porto, Beja, Evora, and Lisbon. Lusitania as the Roman’s called the country was important to the empire because its rich farmland helped feed its armies throughout Europe. Germanic tribes invaded in the fifth and sixth centuries and Moors from North Africa ruled until Portugal emerged as an

independent state in 1140.

Spain was a thorn in the country’s side for hundreds of years as it tried to subjugate their smaller neighbor but Portugal finally succeeded in breaking Spain’s hold in 1640. Each occupier left an indelible mark, physically and culturally, in art, architecture, language, religion, traditions, and cuisine.

The 14th and 15th centuries were Portugal's golden age of discovery, establishing the tiny country

The Cantino

In the early 1500s, Lisbon was a thriving place alive with people from all over Europe searching for jobs, fame and fortune. One of them was a horse trader, but his sideline was Italian spy, Alberto Cantino. It was Cantino’s job to collect information on Portuguese Discoveries around the world. He smuggled a detailed map from Portugal to Italy in 1502, now called The Cantino planisphere or Cantino world map which is the earliest surviving chart identifying Portuguese global discoveries including Asia, the Americas. It is one of the very first maps showing America's East Coast, including the coasts of Florida,11 years before Ponce de León got credit for discovering the place.

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The Great Exploration

as a dominant global empire and economic powerhouse stretching from Asia to the Americas.

The Portuguese were responsible for 70 percent of European discoveries during that time. Portugal's small population made it impossible to colonize and maintain all territories it discovered including Greenland, Newfoundland, and Australia which were colonized by other nations.

Some of the most famous explorers include Ferdinand Magellan, who led five Spanish ships and 251 men in the first voyage around the world, and Vasco da Gama, who discovered the sea route to India in 1497 and Brazil in 1500. Other notable explorers include Bartholomeu Dias, the first European to lead a voyage around the Cape of Good Hope on tip of South Africa and Pedro Alvares Cabral, the first European to explore Brazil in 1500.

The nationality of a few explorers is still a matter of conflict. Opinions differ on whether Juan

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Rodriguez Cabrillo who discovered my hometown of San Diego in 1542 was Spanish or Portuguese. It is agreed that he named this area San Miguel after one of his ships, but 60 years later, SebastiĂĄn VizcaĂ­no, a Spaniard, rediscovered the port and renamed it after a saint, San Diego, in 1602. Cabrillo, however, got the last laugh: The city reenacts his landing every year during the Cabrillo Festival at the Cabrillo Monument at the tip of Point Loma. Vizcaino does not have a monument or a festival.

Another nationality dispute surrounds perhaps the most famous explorer, Christopher Columbus.

Some say he was Portuguese, not Italian. He spent considerable time in Portugal and had many ties. In his 20s he went to Lisbon to attend mariners school.

There he met and married Portuguese Felipa Perestrello, who bore him a son. When she passed away, Columbus and his son returned to Spain, where he went on to discover the new world and prove that it was indeed round.

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The large ship illustrated below is an armed Portuguese merchant carrack. It is thought to be the ‘Santa Caterina’. The ship was built 1510 the Portuguese East Indies trade. And is made of teak in their colony of Cochin, India.” The painting courtesy of the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.

Portuguese Explorers Timeline 1394 : Henry the Navigator, son of King John I of Portugal, is born 1415 : King John I conquers the city of Ceuta in northern Africa 1419 : Madeira Islands discovered by explorers Zarco and Tristao Vaz Teixeira 1427 : Azores Islands discovered by Portuguese explorer Diogo Silves 1434 : Exploration of the African coast begins 1438 : Afonso V of Portugal becomes king 1444: Discovery and colonisation of the Cape Verde islands 1481 : John II of Portugal becomes king 1484 : Diogo Cao discovers the River Congo 1487 : Bartholomeu Dias leads the expedition around the Cape of Good Hope 1492 : Christopher Columbus discovers the New World, but dies thinking its the Indies 1495 : Manuel I of Portugal becomes king 1498 : Vasco da Gama reaches India through navigation around Africa 1500 : Pedro Alvares Cabral discovers Brazil 1519 : Ferdinand Magellan leads the first voyage around the World 1521 : John III of Portugal becomes king 1542 : Portuguese explorers are the first Europeans to land in Japan 1557 : Sebastian of Portugal becomes king 1569 : Nagasaki, in Japan, is open to Portuguese traders

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The adventure begins

SINTRA

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ur first destination in Portugal was the resort town of Sintra, a UNESCO World Heritage site just outside of Lisbon where we could chill out for a few days before beginning our road trip. As it turned out, we didn’t do much chilling during our four-day stay. Instead, there was a whole lot of walking, eating and drinking in the town the English poet Lord Byron called the “Garden of Eden”.

Nestled in the forested foothills of the Sintra Mountain, this resort for centuries has been a cool sanctuary for royalty and the rich and famous. Studded with imposing historic fortresses, mansions, and castles, Sintra is a magnet for daytrippers, mostly from Lisbon and Porto, who pour wave after wave into the narrow cobblestone streets from trains and buses. Staying a few nights here gave us the advantage of exploring most of the major attractions before hoards of day-trippers arrived. Evenings in Sintra without the crowds was a magical experience.

Our hotel, the Chalet Saudade, had arranged for a car and driver to transport us there from the Lisbon Airport for considerably less than other transfer services. Though it was close to rush hour, our limo pulled up to our home for the next four nights after about 30 minutes on the road. One look at the former mansion’s classic robin’s egg blue facade and a glimpse of the wine bars and

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The Pena National Palace stands on the top of a hill above the town of Sintra. The palace is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the Seven Wonders of Portugal. It is also used for state occasions by the President of the Portuguese Republic and other government officials.

Photo courtesy Glyn Lowe

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restaurants across the street told us we had made a good choice.

The hotel oozed comfort and old-world charm. Entering the inn, we saw couples enjoying the grand views while holding glasses of port or wine. Our friendly hosts had informed us in advance that there would be stairs to get to our rooms but assured us that they would take care of hoisting our heavy bags. And they did.

Our spacious room was on the ground floor, where French doors opened onto the garden - a perfect place to launch my drone. (More about this later.) It took a few days to get used to the stairs, by the end of our stay I was just barely winded by the climb. I had become the Edmund Hillary of Sintra. The mountaineer’s quote came to mind, “People do not decide to become extraordinary. They decide to accomplish extraordinary things.” Like climbing three flights several times a day.

Stair climbing exponentially increased my thirst for a glass of wine. Our first stop was right

The entrance to the five-star hotel Chalet Saudade. Below: The public area of the hotel. Ira and Barbara Gruber enjoying a glass of port in the parlor.

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across the street at INcomum Wine Gallery. This stylish wine bar spied as we arrived quickly became our home base for this segment of the trip.

INcomum offers a huge selection of Portuguese wines and a wide variety of tasty dishes to go with them. My favorite was the foie gras served on a bed of risotto with cubed pear and roasted hazelnuts. Guided by the professional and very friendly staff, we began

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our education about the country’s wines - not an easy task since Portugal grows over 500 varietals.

We didn’t make a dent in the offerings after three evenings there.

The owners of the wine bar also own the restaurant next door that turned out to be one of the premier dining spots in Sintra. Our dinner on our second night was terrific -- creative, fresh and

perfectly prepared and plated. Chef Luis Santos adds his magic to Sintra's culinary scene with his contemporary vision of Portuguese cuisine, served in the chic and modern dining room or outside when the weather is good. Unfortunately, our feast was interrupted by a screaming child, and while I felt bad for the child and parents, it was a real dining downer for everyone in the room. Fortunately, our servers

relocated most of the guests including us. We finished our meal at a street-side table in the glow of a sunset-blushed sky.

Our dining luck held for breakfasts as well. Our hotel also owned Cafe Saudade, where the breakfast included with our rooms was served. We expected a typical buffet of baked items and fruit but we were blown away when we took our seats in this eclectic

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eatery in a historic former bakery that provided Kings with a famous custard-filled pastry called queijadas.

Our breakfast and server were delightful and we looked forward to every morning’s extravaganza of great coffee drinks, pastries, including massive scones and croissants, fresh fruit, house-made yogurt, cheese and cold-cuts and Portugal’s famous pastel de nata. What a great way to begin the day.

After breakfast, we strolled to the crowded shopping streets - cobble-stoned and steep - in the central historic district anchored by the imposing National Palace of Sintra (Palácio Nacional de Sintra. One of the best-preserved medieval royal residences in Portugal, the white palace with its two imposing landmark kitchen chimneys showcases numerous rooms with intricate ornate ceilings, tiled walls, medieval furnishings, and yes - a massive kitchen.

Cafe Saudade serving great coffee drinks, pastries,including massive scones, croissants, fresh fruit plate, house-made yogurt, cheese and cold-cuts and Portugal’s famous pastel de natas.

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Although Sintra has two shopping malls with familiar retailers, most tourists prefer the charm and products of the shop- and restaurant-packed tourist market. Here you’ll be dazzled by the wide range of products made from cork, sneakers to ball caps and purses of every size and shape. Sustainable and durable, cork is growing in popularity as an alternative to leather, especially among vegans.

Before you buy, have a shop owner or staff show you how to tell the genuine products from fakes or poor quality to be sure you get your money’s worth.

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There also are lots of locally made ceramics, painted with centuries-old patterns, for sale.

Shopkeepers are happy to wrap platters, bowls, vases, candlesticks and more in bubble wrap to tuck into luggage for the trip home. Mary also became intrigued with the ceramic swallows, sold everywhere in a variety of sizes and colors since the late 1890s when the ceramic artist Rafael Bordallo Pinheiro made them popular. By the end of our trip, she had more than a dozen that are now attached to a fence in our garden, a nod to the Portuguese

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GETTING AROUND AIR Both Porto and Lisbon have International airports. Lisbon has more flights directly to other countries than Porto. Algarve also has an airport but has limited flights, especially during the off-season.

We used Portugal’s major carrier TAP for our flights to the US and from England to Lisbon.

We found them to be an excellent airline. They have service to San Francisco, Boston, New York, and Florida.

RENTAL CAR We picked up our rental car in downtown Porto and dropped it off in downtown Cascais. We found the best rates by far though Auto Europe.

The only disadvantage was that we had to pay in advance.

ROADS The major highways in Portugal are outstanding.

Most have tolls, so be sure and rent a transponder when you pick up a rental car. Our toll fee after two weeks was less than $20.00. If you can do not drive in the narrow streets of old walled cities – it is a nightmarish experience.

Google Maps is essential and worked everywhere we traveled in the country.

Like most big cities Lisbon and Porto have nasty rush-hour traffic problems. Try not to drive during these times and if you have a flight to catch make sure you leave a couple of hours before you have to be at the airport. It took us nearly two hours to get to the airport from Cascais during morning rush hour.

There are manyPortuguese drivers who tend to drive very fast or very slow. Many of the ones that drive fast cannot stand to have any car in front of them and will try to pass regardless of how fast you are going. Relax and get used to it.

PUBLIC TRANSPORT We didn’t use buses, but we heard that Portugal has an excellent bus network. Trains connect most cities a varying levels. Local trains tend to fill up and have limited baggage space. Tip: If you want to save a lot of time use cash when buying train tickets. If you use a credit card, the clerk will need the passports of all ticket holders and fill out a form by hand.

Be sure and ride the cable cars in Lisbon and Porto. It’s a cheap and fun way to see the city.

The ancient Moorish Castle built by the Moors in the 8th century and was taken by the Norwegian King and Crusader Sigurd in 1108 while he was on his way to Jerusalem.

his way to Jerusalem. When the castle lost its strategic importance, it fell into disrepair for centuries. Efforts to rebuild and restore it continued off and on until the 1940s. Because of time restraints, we decided only to admire it from a distance.

The rest of our tour involved lots of walking, although if we hadn’t got lost in the vast inclined gardens of the Pena Palace (Palåcio da Pena) we could have shaved off a couple of miles. The colorful

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storybook palace is one of the best examples of 19th-century Romantic revivalist architecture almost worth the trek up the mountain to experience.

Our guide dropped us off at one of the two main entrances to the national park which includes the palace. We set off on foot through the vast maze of gardens below the royal residence, studded with ponds and small structures sometimes referred to as follies. Not being a triathlete, the climb up

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winding paths on this warm day was taking its toll. At a crucial juncture, we zigged when we should have zagged and ended up heading around the mountain not up to the palace. We didn’t figure that out for a mile or so and reluctantly backtracked. The remaining trek up the mountain to the entrance did me in. I collapsed on a bench and let my fellow survivors explore the palace on their own, resting for the hike back down. If I had it all to do again (and I

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would) I would enter at our exit point, or better yet fork over a few extra euros for a bus tour up to the Palace.

bottom where a long dark dank underground grotto with dead-end passageways and waterfall-drenched exits.

After a relaxing lunch that included a wine flight of wine and plate of sardines, we made our way to the slightly less taxing Quinta da Regaleira, a World Heritage site. The lavish ornate Gothic mansion and lush gardens include assorted mysterious hidden tunnels and structures used in secretive religious rituals. The strangest was the Initiation Well with stone moss-cover walls and steps winding to the

The whole set-up was used to test initiates for a secret society who were accepted after making the descent in the dark and finding the correct. exit.

Mary and I would have flunked out. In broad daylight, we managed to take a wrong turn and became separated from our companions. Our anxious guide found us a hundred yards away from the winner’s exit.

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Four California explorers posing in front of the ancient Moorish Castle built by the Moors in the 8th century and was taken by the Norwegian King and Crusader Sigurd in 1108 while he was on his way to Jerusalem.

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Our journey to Portugal’s second-largest city took four hours by train from Sintra, with a change in Lisbon. On the first leg, there was no place to store bags so we put them on the seats nearby, which was fine until the commuter train filled to standing room only. Perturbed fellow passengers gave us the evil eye and a few choice words in Portuguese. Our survival strategy was heads down and no eye contact for the duration of the short connection.

As we boarded the train in Lisbon to Porto, we were very relieved to spy a couple of small luggage compartments as well as overhead bins that could handle carry-on-sized suitcases. While the train was comfortable, clean and on time, the experience made me leery of future train travel with heavy bags. From the train station, it was an easy cab ride to our Airbnb rental. Cabs in Porto are clean and reasonable, making Uber calls generally unnecessary.

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Oh salty sea, how much of your salt Is te

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ears from Portugal? – Fernando Pessoa The first of our three Airbnb rentals booked for this trip proved to be a winner - a two-bedroom apartment in a recently renovated building with a small elevator (greatly appreciated since we were on the top floor). From almost every window, our apartment was blessed with beautiful city views. Watching the light change on magnificent churches and colorfully tiled buildings along with the buzz of people dining in sidewalk cafes below became a frequent ritual.

We spent three nights in Porto - barely enough for an introduction. At first blush, the city reminded me of San Francisco with its cool weather, youthful energy, great food and wine, and steep hills and cable cars. Cheap flights, affordable dining, and economical Airbnb lodging have contributed to making Porto and Lisbon some of Europe’s most popular destinations -- especially for young people.

Medieval history and architecture, eclectic culture, and energetic nightlife add to their growing appeal.

On our walks through the city, we immediately noticed the many construction cranes stretching into the sky. Things are booming here -- after decades of neglect and reckless rent controls under the dictatorship of Antonio Salazar. Fortunately, this rebirth treasures Porto’s past. Instead of bulldozing crumbling old buildings the city is preserving its beautiful architecture from the golden age of Portugal and modernizing the interiors with the latest green technologies.

In Porto, the country’s famous Azulejo tiles are everywhere – on and in houses, stores, churches, train stations and more. Most are the traditional blue, but many of the apartment buildings sported other colors. The blue tiles in

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churches depict religious history while on public buildings, local history is the focus. One of the grandest displays can be found at the amazing Sao Bento railway station decorated with walls of tile depicting the country’s entire history -

bookshop’s Gothic and Art Nouveau style and ornate staircase are said to have inspired the look of Hogwarts School. The shop is easy to spot - there’s always a line out in front. The small fee charged to enter is credited back with a purchase.

Another must-visit site is the 19th-century bookshop Lavraria Lello, the oldest bookshop in Portugal and is considered one of the best in the world.”Harry Potter” creator J. K. Rowling reportedly hung out here as she wrote some of her bestselling series and still visits when she’s at home in Porto. The

The city is split by the Douro River which flows from Spain through the Douro Valley where grapes for the city’s famous Port wines are grown. The bulk of the Port wine cellars are located in the old town across the river from the main city. Most have tasting rooms where you can try the wine’s many variations.

Rather than visit just a couple, we booked a food tour that would highlight wines from the Douro and other areas of the country along with some very tasty local specialties.

Food tours are one of the best ways to learn about a destination’s culture and people. Great food and drink are wonderful side products of the experience.

Our guide Rita, from Porto Walks, led us to authentic tascas (small traditional restaurants) around town,

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where we sampled area favorites amid crowds of happy locals enjoying the same unpretentious food and drink.

Like all good food tour guides, Rita was passionate about food, especially local fare, and shared lots of lore and trivia about Porto’s history and residents. Porto Walks had warned us not to eat before the tour since we would be more than sated at the journey’s end.

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dishes, several wines and a cold mug of beer.

One tour highlight was the main Porto food market (in temporary quarters while its historic location is renovated) where we sampled cured meats, cheese, farm-fresh tomatoes, and Portuguese salt cod fritters or pastéis de bacalhau. The Bolhão market hall was made famous by an episode of “No Reservations,” when two elderly ladie bakery clerks talked dirty to host Anthony Bourdain and served him a large loaf of

bread shaped like a mans private parts. It was the first time I saw worldly Bourdain blush on his show.

At another stop we enjoyed was watching bakers making pastel de nata and then sampling the warmfrom-the-oven sweet, washed down with strong local coffee. Although the most famous pastel de nata come from the Lisbon community of Belem, these came real close to sweet perfection.

One of our last noshes was served at a small boisterous bar, loved by locals and tourists alike who were already filling the unpretentious room with chatter and belly laughs. We joined them in imbibing, ordering beer, wine or hard cider. When a couple of folks ordered some bottled water, the bartender clanged a loud bell, the room quieted and our table got lots of incredulous looks. Rita explained the bell is always rung when someone dares to order, much less drink, the water in this establishment. The offenders quickly tucked their plastic bottles away and we got back to fun times with proper adult alcoholic beverages.

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The Douro

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As wine enthusiasts, we knew a visit to the Douro Valley was a must here. So we arranged a day-long tour to this UNESCO World Heritage site that began early in the morning when JoĂŁo Sousa, our guide and founder of Oporto Sensations Tour picked us up at our hotel for our journey to the wine village of PinhĂŁo and two nearby wineries.

The ride to the Douro took us over lush green mountains to the village of Regua with its landmark bridges. This is a regular stop for the big riverboats sailing the Douro River. Boat day trips from Porto usually stop and turn around here. The train station here also welcomes day-trippers from Porto. After a short coffee and pastry break, it was 10 a.m. - a good time to begin tasting wine.

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Our first winery stop was Quinta de Marrocos estate housed at the site of an old Franciscan monastery perched high on the left bank of the Douro. One of the oldest estates in the Douro, it has produced famous Port and Douro wines for over four generations.

There were several visitors already touring and tasting -- evidently, we’re not the only wine enthusiasts that don’t mind morning wine drinking.

An excellent tour included a stop in the barrel room where spiders and their webs are welcome as ant deterrents. The estate also boasts large granite vats where grapes are still pressed by foot, we were told as our guide poured our tastes. It's a fact that I could have done without since you never know where those feet have been. But I persevered and swallowed, especially enjoying their elegant 20-year-old Tawny Port rich with flavors of nuts, dried fruits and honey -- and not even a hint of toes.

Wine tasting at Quinta de Marrocos estate housed at the site of an old Franciscan monastery perched high above the left bank of the Douro River.

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Our next port of call so to speak was the great Quinta da Croft Roêda, owned by Croft, one of the oldest Port houses founded 1588.

Their grounds and outbuildings along with a huge tasting room were impressive. Located above the Douro, all enjoyed expansive views of the river and hillside vineyards as far as the eye could see.

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “This would be a great place to fly a drone for a bird’s eye view of this gorgeous wine country.” Coincidentally my trusty drone, Evo, was in my bag. I mentioned to our guide that I would love to fly my drone here, expecting an “are you kidding” negative reply.

Instead, I got “That’s great, no problem -- can we have a copy of the video?.” Another reason to love Portugal.

While everyone was touring the vineyards, I set up my drone, making sure I had a fresh battery and Micro SD memory card to store my video files. Soon Evo was high above the vineyards soaring toward the river, then over vineyards on both banks before returning to the estate for a perfect landing. I was pumped, as I always am after a good flight. Time to taste some more port, including their quaffable PINK, a rose port wine introduced by Croft a few years earlier.

Ron flying his EVO drone over wine country. Left: Croft winery looking down at the Douro river.

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After typical lunch in Pinhão paired with some of the region's white and red table wines, we set off for nearby docks where we’d top off a great Douro Valley day with a boat ride down the river on a Rabelo, boats that traditionally carried barrels of the wine from the vineyards to Porto. We plied the river for about an hour, relaxing and admiring the wineries and vineyards on both sides. It was like an abbreviated river cruise only about $6,000 cheaper.

About an hour into our voyage, I even got a chance to steer the boat for a few minutes. It was fun...and we all survived.

Ron and Mary take boat ride down the Douro river on a Rabelo boat. The boats that traditionally carried barrels of the wine to Porto for finishing.

Unfortunately, there was no wine on this boat ride.

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Courtesy Luis Ascenso

As a San Diego native, I grew up when every youngster wanted to be a great surfer like James Darren’s Moondoggie and get a girlfriend like Sandra Dee’s Gidget. That’s why I was so excited to make a quick visit to Nazaré, arguably one of the finest seaside resorts in Portugal. But it’s not the wide bay of golden sands, great seafood restaurants or even

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the city’s famous Bola de Berlim, delicious custardfilled doughnuts, that brought us to this former fishing village. It was the surf -- big surf that breaks off Praia do Norte beach.

We were very happy for Google Maps as we climbed the city’s winding streets to one of the most

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famous surf spots in the world, where crazy men and women ride the biggest waves in the world. Most of the time, waves are pretty tame, but when winter swells and wind meet a strong southerly current and fast-flowing currents from a deep shoreline trench, magic happens. Big wave surfers gather from around the globe to try to break Brazilian surfer Rodrigo Koxa’s record ride of an 80-foot

Nazaré

monster wave in 2013.

A little village filled with eateries and souvenir shops sits on the plateau below the iconic red lighthouse where you park your car and hike to the main viewpoints for big wave action. On the way, we passed a giant stone statue of a naked torso with a stag’s head, holding a surfboard while

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gazing at the sea. It was a great photo op, but no sign or plaque explained the symbolism. We found out that the artist was inspired by a famous local legend about a King’s guard chasing stag in the fog. The guard was saved from going over a cliff by the Virgin Mary. The artist took artistic liberties and combined the stag, guard and threw in a surfboard.

As we stood on the cliffs overlooking the place in the record book for the tallest wave ride, we tried to imagine what it would feel like to have one those hotel-sized monsters racing toward you. It was too frightening to conceive, but we certainly gained a lot of respect for the forces of nature that create these gigantic waves and the men and women who ride it.

That would most likely not include James Darren or Sandra Dee.

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OBIDOS

Next up was the charming walled town of Obidos, one of the most popular tourist destinations near Lisbon.

For good reason, it”s great fun to explore the ancient village with its imposing medieval castle and walls, narrow cobbled streets and traditional painted houses. The houses on the main streets are now mostly souvenir shops and restaurants. We ended up thoroughly enjoying the town, but our misadventure in Obidos offers an important lesson in trip planning one we learned the hard way.

Getting to our lodging was a traveler’s nightmare.

I was sweating nervous bullets as we made our third circle around the imposing castle walls of Obidos in search of our hotel. The cobblestoned narrow road became narrower, leaving our rental car with about half an inch clearance on either side. On our first pass, our companion Ira got out of the car to guide me between a building on one side and the wall on the other -- both of which had countless gouges from drivers who drove larger cars or didn’t have an Ira to help. Finally, we found the tiny entrance through the wall and Ira again guide me through without a scratch.

We thought we had won the day until it became clear that we couldn’t find our hotel and navigating streets clogged with oblivious tourists was hair raising at best. Finally, a nice lady guided us to the former nunnery we would call home only to discover a

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note on the locked door telling us to go to their sister hotel, god knows where, and pick up building and room keys.

We drove at a snail's pace practically nudging shoppers out of the way in each of the elusive hotel.

The narrow road narrowed even more, at one point squeezed by a giant eucalyptus on one side and an illegally parked car on the other. I held my breath and drove past and miraculously pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. That was the good news. The bad? The road did not continue, it was a dead end. I would have to go back through the same small gap - in reverse.

Did I mention the car was a stick shift? I wanted to cry.

Mary saw my anguish and jumped out checked us in and get our keys. Mad as hell about the whole SNAFU, she must have expressed herself clearly to the manager because he was almost as agitated as I was when he emerged from the hotel. He looked at the car and the tree and car behind me and said: “You can’t park here.”

He probably saw smoke coming out of my sweaty ears when he volunteered to guide me back.

Somehow we made it through the warren of streets without a dent or hit and run. I spied one lone parking space by the building next to the nunnery/hotel annex and wedged the car in..

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Mary and Barbara getting ready to down an authentic Portuguese dinner flanked by the castle and walls. Below: Mary waves from our small hotel hidden behind the castle walls.

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After we carried our bags into what turned out to be a very nice accommodation, I was back at the car when a stranger told me I needed a pass to park there. “Pass my ass,” I thought and put the keys in my pocket. The car stayed there for three days, no tickets, no problem. That is until our next fiasco when we had to leave the walled city. But that’s a story for another edition.

Despite our hair-raising journey, Obidos was a wonderful example of a medieval village built inside castle walls. It probably looked much the same as when the Queen of Portugal received it as a wedding gift 1214 -- a gesture rare these days.

Probably the biggest difference between then and now is that practically every shop is selling the Portuguese chocolate liqueur Ginja de Obidos we had sampled in Sintra just a few days earlier. And I doubt that the villagers waved around sticks with cell phones at the end.

Like Sintra, Obidos (pronounced OhBeeDoshe) is a popular day trip from Lisbon. And like Sintra when the sun gets low on the horizon, the buses and rented cars, wisely parked outside the walls, make their way back to the big city. Streets that just a few minutes ago was packed with visitors now offered those overnighting a pleasant place to stroll, visiting souvenir shops and sharing a bottle or two of delicious inexpensive Portuguese wine.

Restaurants begin to fill up around 8:30 p.m.so reservations are still suggested if you’re trying to eat on Portuguese time instead of the senior special time at Denny’s as many Americans prefer.

One benefit of driving in circles is that I spotted a great place to launch Evo, my trusty drone. So on our last evening when the Lisbon crowd had departed Evo soared high above the castle and took some stunning video which you can see if you click the blue button on this page of the interactive version.

I didn’t look forward to our last morning in Obidos, not because I was sad to leave, but because I feared a nightmare exit. Just as I began the drive out the tiny main gate, about 50 busloads of tourists began to pour through. I waited about 15 minutes for the human tsunami to subside, but it didn’t. So I slowly moved forward through the gates, hardly hurting anyone in the process. I swore I would never drive into a walled city again -- and I didn’t -- until we arrived at our next destination, Coimbra.

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We’ve always been high on college towns in our travels. We can always count on an interesting and lively community, big on culture and the arts, and overflowing with interesting eateries that students, professors, and travel writers can afford. Coimbra’s beauty and history can only be matched by Lisbon and Porto; its ancient buildings climbing the hills flanking the wide Mondego River. Capping the skyline, like a crown, are the ornate buildings of the University of

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Coimbra, one of the oldest universities in Europe.

We arrived at midday after a relatively short drive from Obidos. Again, we couldn’t have found our way into the old part of the city without Google Maps. Highways led into wide, well-maintained boulevards that led into two-lane streets that led onto narrow cobblestone lanes where one car has to pull over to let the other one pass. Considering all the training I got in Obidos, I didn’t have any

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problems until we found the ancient alley where our Airbnb was located. We drove down the steep street, again full of tourists and locals, and found ourselves at a dead end with seemingly no way to turn around. I parked the car facing an outdoor cafe where all the patrons were glaring at us.

Mary and Ira volunteered to walk up the street to look for JoĂŁo Amaral, our host who was waiting for us to arrive. The trio arrived a few minutes later and I managed to turn around, avoiding the four-foot drop-off at the street end and providing much entertainment for the crowd gathered to witness the crazy tourist driver do the impossible. I made my way up the street and even found a parking space for our still unblemished rental car. Coimbra is a very walkable town so our ride would stay parked for the next four days.

Our two-bedroom, two-bath rental, still a work in progress, delighted a history buff like me. It was a cross between a museum, archaeological dig, and modern apartment.

JoĂŁo had completely restored the ancient building into a chic modern living space, leaving certain ancient walls and floors exposed via Plexiglas covers. Perhaps most

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interesting was the large see-through display in the center of the living room floor where three levels of walls - a city wall, Roman wall and one predating the Romans - were revealed during excavations. If those walls could talk, imagine all they could say.

challenging at times.

We spent the second day exploring the University and the old city, divided into two primary neighborhoods, Lower Town and Upper Town. The historic center is high above the river on Alcaçova hill Our first order of business was lunch at the tapas where you can visit medieval convents, cathedrals, restaurant not 20 feet from our front door. It was my and some world-class museums clustered in and favorite kind of place, small, charming and serving around the University. This is not a place to visit if you great inexpensive food and wine. Coimbra has many don’t like walking steep cobblestone streets or of these kinds of eateries, serving University students, climbing stairs. I’m not in the best shape but managed faculty and savvy tourists. Keep in mind that with to walk several miles up and down. Although it wasn’t glowing reviews on TripAdvisor, these kinds of places easy, it was well worth the effort. often become too popular so getting a table can be For tourists and locals alike, Coimbra satisfies

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We found wine and art everywhere we turned in Coimbra. Right: Ron and Mary pose in front of an antique trolley.

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FADO

One of our favorite experience in Coimbra, other than our tapas and beer feast, was the Fado ao Centro concert we attended our last evening. Fado is called Portugal’s soul, the haunting folk music, began in the Alfama district of Lisbon. Coimbra students brought the tradition to the University and made their own distinctive style performed only by men -- to serenade potential lady friends on the streets of the city. The tradition is alive and well and requires a strict dress code with singers wearing a traditional university cassock and black cape. Fado ao Centro is run by passionate fadistas and offers daily performances at 6 pm which combine a brief history of the genre with live performances in an intimate setting.

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every shopping whim. The narrow streets that twist way past Rua Ferreira Borges and the Old Cathedral to the University are home to independent shops selling locally-made souvenirs, including ceramics, basketry, embroidery, linens, and jewelry. If you’re lucky, you may see artisans at work as we did in a family ceramic tile shop. As with the food and wine, souvenirs in Portugal are very reasonable.

A more modern pedestrian shopping street leading in from the river has everything from ice cream shops to a specialty store selling only canned

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sardines and other morsels from the sea. Of course, the street boasts many outdoor and indoor restaurants serving Portuguese specialties and cold mugs of local beers. During peak times it can be hard to snag a table, but it’s worth the effort to refresh and enjoy some people watching on a hot day.

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Coimbra University is the prize at the top of the hill. The university is the lifeblood of the city and it’s vibe changes with the ebb and flow of the academic year. Since 1290, its students have enriched the country as notable scholars, politicians, artists, and

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scientists. Tradition is strong here, illustrated the student and faculty garb, dashing black capes. We spotted a few on the hot summer day when we were on the sprawling campus. Although its historic bond with Portugal is strong, students representing more than 70 nationalities add an international flavor.

We visited several museums, filled with historic artifacts and treasures brought to the University during the golden years of discovery. Afterward, we took a welldeserved break at one of the many campus eateries. We could have happily spent many more days roaming around

the University and old town, and all agreed this Portuguese treasure was worth a return visit, perhaps when the university is in session and bustling with activity.

The jewel of the University is its splendid library or The Book House as it’s called. Built between 1717 and 1728, it was designed to show off the wealth of the empire, especially the colony of Brazil. We purchased time-specific tickets in advance and some two hours later, walked inside with the others in our group.

The grand Baroque-style main library is surrounded by highly decorated bookcases lined with rare bibliographic

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collections containing the written knowledge of the 16th-18th centuries. Photos are prohibited here and groups move in and out of the room on a strict schedule.

Another favorite experience in Coimbra was the fado concert we attended our last evening. The haunting folk music often called Portugal’s soul began in the Alfama district of Lisbon. Coimbra students brought the Two-foot thick walls and the giant teak entrance door provide stable temperatures and humidity ensuring tradition to the University, where only men perform the distinctive music to woo potential lady friends from the conservation of the collection. The builders also were city streets. Tradition requires a strict dress code for the aware of the threat posed to books by insects, so they singers who don university cassocks and black capes. made the bookcases out of oak wood which has a scent Fado ao Centro, where we enjoyed an early evening that repels them. They also introduced a colony of bats that spend each night dining on book-eating bugs. Aware concert, offers performances that combine a brief history of the genre with live performances in an that bats leave souvenirs, special crews cover the bookcases and tables with protective leather towels each intimate setting. If you’re more of a night owl, you can also enjoy fado concerts around town starting later in the afternoon when the library closes. evening and often lasting well past midnight.

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THE ALGAR Algarve, the Southern California of Portugal, is a sun-blessed playground for much of Europe. It’s coastal towns, rich with beaches, dramatic shorelines, warm weather and plenty of luxe resorts and golf courses, are an important tourist destination and home to thousands of expats -- mostly from the UK who are escaping the cold and high cost of living.

Like the rest of Portugal Algarve was influenced by its former occupiers beginning with the Celts and Phoenicians and ending with the Moors. We found

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Moorish influences in every town we visited here.

Algarve was our next stop and a welcome respite after 10-days of extreme tourism -- strenuous walking, museum shuffling - and eating and drinking. In Algarve, we looked forward to relaxation in five-star resorts with premier dining spots, including the Michelin-starred kind.

One other welcome change from our previous stays would be ease of driving and parking - just hand the keys to a valet.

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Anantara Vilamour

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ra Resort The first of our deluxe digs was Anantara Vilamoura Algarve Resort, that overlooks the lush Victoria Golf Course, home to annual Portugal Masters tournament. This is a very family-friendly resort. Golfers from all over the world, frequently with their families in tow, make the resort their headquarters. While they’re on the links, spouses and kids splash in the family pool and enjoy casual outdoor dining. Also on the grounds is an adultsonly pool in a serene setting for couples seeking a quiet getaway.

After checking in we retired to our airy comfortable rooms that matched the sleek contemporary design of the entire multilevel resort and spa. The 280 rooms and suites opened onto balconies like ours with panoramic views of the gardens and pools and plush sofas for relaxing in the warm sea breezes. Attention to detail evident throughout, including Portuguese canned sardines and metal flasks of port wine in the mini-bar.

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On the second afternoon, we were treated to a Portuguese wine masterclass by wine director Bruno Cunha where we continued our education into the country’s myriad wines. Bruno focused on Portugal’s diverse wine regions, including some fine vintages being produced in the Algarve area. It would be the first - and one of the best - wine educational experiences we savored in Algarve.

The wine theme continued with a tasting menu starring local contemporary Portuguese cuisine from the resort’s fine-dining restaurant helmed by chef Bruno Viegas. All courses, including the amuse bouche, were matched with wines selected and poured by our masterclass wine guru Bruno Cunha.

Soothed and sated after the leisurely evening with no drive home required, we happily felt accumulated travel stresses slip away.

TAVIRA

While in this area, we day-tripped to Tavira, one of the Algarve's charming coastal towns located along the Gilão River and sporting an eye-pleasing mix of traditional Portuguese and Moorish architecture. With a helping hand from Google maps, we made our way south to the seaside town of Cabanas de Tavira.

Cabanas’ main attraction in Cabanas is beachfront backed by a long strip of condos, souvenir shops, and restaurants. Most of the eateries were empty or sparsely populated on this sunny afternoon, except one in the distance packed with diners shaded by white umbrellas. As we approached Noélia e Jerónimo we didn’t see any available tables, but fortune smiled and a group was just leaving, making room for our hungry (and thirsty) foursome.

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Our server, who looked like he had been waiting tables for 50 years, was a bit on the gruff side as he dropped the menus on the table. When we immediately ordered two bottles of wine, he seemed to soften up a little.

A check on TripAdvisor delighted us by ranking this one of Algarve’s best seafood dining spots. The self-taught chef-owner Noélia Jerónimo is a culinary star in Portugal and her award-winning restaurant is a must-visit by chefs from around the world. Our table mates were restaurateurs from France who had made the culinary pilgrimage.

We ordered a wide sampling of the restaurant’s fresh seafood specialties recommended our curmudgeonly server, who was growing on us -- a little and took our time to savor them. In all, a very Algarve afternoon.

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FARO

We only took one walking tour in Algarve, an outstanding outing thanks to our excellent affable tour guide and owner of António Guerreiro. His Eating Algarve Food Tours emphasize culture as well as food in Algarve’s most historic districts. Our tour took place in Faro, the region’s bustling capital.

Walking or any other kind of tour always gets off to a good start when the first stop is an excellent wine tasting room. On this one, we visited two. In the process, we learned more about Portuguese wines and were in a very good mood for the rest of the walk.

Our first stop was About Wine, which as the

name implies was a perfect place to continue our Portuguese wine education. Located in a mid-19thcentury building with ancient Algarvian architecture the shop offered more than 500 Portuguese wines.

The owner, Luis, and his charming wife explained the various regions and types of wine made in each, with an emphasis on some locally produced finds. The lesson came with some wonderful tastings paired with tasty tapas snacks. The second wine bar, EPICURE - Wine Boutique & Ba, features over 250 Portuguese wines. Their wines-by-the-glass selections were tasty pairings with authentic small tapas, charcuterie, cheese, olives, and fine olive oil.

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We arrived in Algarve thinking that it was all about resorts and beaches. Our guide quickly put that notion to rest as we explored the historic heart of Faro, where the Romans and Moors had left their mark. Adding to the city’s charms were giant nests perched on monuments and historic buildings where storks happily tended their chicks. We learned it’s against the law to disturb the birds that often return to the same nesting site every year.

We strolled on to the city’s neoclassical Arco da Vila, built on the site of a gate that was part of the original Moorish wall. This archway leads to the old town where we made a stop at the beautiful Faro Cathedral, built in the 13th century and passed a 16th-century convent that now houses a city museum showcasing prehistoric and medieval artifacts and religious art.

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Soon we approached a lively pedestrian-only street lined with stores and restaurants already filling with shoppers and diners. We joined them for a happy hour nosh of sparkling wine and oysters at the beautiful Lodo Restaurant, one of the most popular and charming super fresh seafood restaurants in Faro.

Our tour ended appropriately at Columbus Wine and Cocktail bar, a hot spot for craft cocktails.

Antonio seated us and then left for the bar. He returned with a tray of sealed designer bottles, icefilled glasses, flowers, and fruit - all very intriguing and very stylish. Within moments we were toasting with tasty ruby-red drinks that resembled Mai Tais.

Feeling educated, happy and a bit buzzed, we bid Antonio goodbye.

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Villa Vita Par

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Vila Vita VITA Parc resort, our final Algarve stop, is tucked in the green hills around the village of Porches, a charming seaside town often overshadowed by the tourist hot-spots of Albufeira and Praia da Rocha. Our expectations were high - we had seen the photos and read some reviews. But a few hours after checking in and exploring the beautiful landscape, we all agreed the resort’s beautifully decorated accommodations, stylish cabanas, palm-studded gardens, and private sandy beach were flat-out awesome.

Our room on the second floor of the main building overlooked the gardens and two fountain-splashed ponds - one a favorite way station for happy seagulls and the other home to resident swans. The resort offers chic rooms and suites with the sea-inspired decor in various sizes, including spacious whitewashed villas with private pools. There’s even the option of a luxury seagoing experience on their exclusive 60-foot Vila Vita Yacht.

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OCEAN RESTAURANT

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TWO MICHELIN STARS! Of course, food and wine is always a priority for us and Vila Vita exceeded expectation in that realm too.

The resort boasts six bars and 10 restaurants, ranging from casual beach-side dining to local Portuguese plates to amazing creations at Ocean, its two Michelin-starred restaurant. Oh, and there was no shortage of wines - the impressive wine cellar holds more than 11,000 bottles.

On our first evening, as the sun was dropping toward the sea, we climbed the stairs to Ocean where sweeping ocean views soon paled before our stunning multi-course meal. Chef Hans Neuner and his team have held a Michelin star since 2009 and two stars since 2011. Keeping them over all those years is more than impressive - but not surprising given the displays of creativity and service we enjoyed during our evening there.

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Vila Vita Parc country estate Herdade dos Grous.

Menus change with the season and availability of fresh ingredients.

When we entered Ocean, we were pleasantly surprised to discover the dining room accommodates just 30 diners. And yet it was spacious enough for quiet conversations, keeping the focus on the food. Service was as close to perfect as I’ve experienced, a blend of friendly and caring, polished and professional. Each of the many courses were served simultaneously to each guest with a kind of ballet precision. Servers didn’t hover, but it was clear someone always watched to satisfy needs and prevent long gaps between courses.

The dishes celebrated the rich bounty of Portuguese waters, including fish, sea urchin, shrimp, scallops and even sea snails. Each dish was served in custom hand made dishes and bowls that looked like stylized shells and presented like the culinary artwork they were. It was tasteful dramatic and beautiful, which describes our entire memorable - and fun - dining experience.

The decor echoes not only the peaceful seaside scenery but the dining experience as well. Murano crystals resembling medusas are showcased near the entrance, and beautiful giant corals fill one wall.

The wine rack, separating the dining room from the kitchen contains over 560 bottles carefully selected by Sommelier Nelson Marreiros - one of the largest private vintage wines collections in the Iberian Peninsula.

Austrian-born Chef Neuner, who has helmed the kitchen since 2007, was honored as Portugal’s Chef of the Year in 2009 and 2012. The restaurant's prestigious awards not only reflect the skills of Chef Neuner and his team but to their commitment to using locally grown produce, locally caught seafood and organic meats from the

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Our Ocean Menu SEA URCHIN | CARROT | OLIVE | ROCK PRAWN | ALMOND | SATAY XEREM | SEA SNAIL | CORIANDER ALENTEJO OLIVE | CORN BREAD | ATLANTIC NORI BREAD | GOAT MILK BUTTER BROAD BEANS | CHORIZO | SQUID SCARLET PRAWN | SAFRAN | TROUT ROE MONKFISH | MUSSELS | CABBAGE | CAPERS GUINEA FOWL | TRUFFLES TOPINAMBUR | BRUSSELS SPROUTS APPLE | TONKA | CASSIS MADEIRA BANANA | CASHEW | 65% DARK CHOCKOLATE

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Ocean’s culinary genius is not an easy act to follow. The next evening we had a reservation at her sister restaurant Adega, serving tasty tapas and specialties from around Portugal, and its islands of Madeira and Azores. Happily our meal there was a great experience.

Adega’s casual dining terrace overlooked the pond plied by those very imperious swans. The air was filled with soft sounds of traditional Portuguese guitar music and our fellow guests, including two

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large family groups, happily chatted and toasted.

We could see this was a place where we could relax and enjoy ourselves. And we did.

Again the service was excellent, friendly and professional - not as choreographed as Ocean, but just as efficient. The staff encourages sharing dishes from the menu that puts a modern twist of Portuguese classics. But to be honest, I didn’t do much sharing, keeping the delicious Portuguese version of cioppino all to myself. We washed it all down with wines from the Azores and Madeira.

Another night, another great meal. Life is very good at Vila Vita Parc resort.

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The next morning we happily made a short walk through the resort's gardens to the edge of the bluff overlooking the Atlantic when stairs led us to the resort’s Armação Beach Club. The club stretches across 300 meters of powder-soft sand beach with a new wooden walkway linking the three restaurants, water-sports station and an ample sunbathing area.

Sun worshipers can order drinks and dishes from all three restaurants and savor them in the comfort of their sun loungers.

Every Sunday in the summer, the resort holds a Caribbean-themed Beach BBQ with live music from Ben & The Pirates.

We missed Ben & the Pirates but the resort arranged an exciting boat ride on an authentic

Portuguese fishing boat. It was a perfect afternoon to explore the spectacular Marinha and Benagil beaches with their incredible caves and famous Algarve massive sandstone rock formations. Many of the sandstone rock formations that jutted up through the sea had names for their resemblance to animals and objects. A couple of caves were lit by the giant holes caused by collapsing cave roofs. It was also an unusual way to people watch as the boat skirted the beaches. Many of the places we visited were only accessible by boat, including the hair-raising thrill ride threading the needle into and out of the caves.

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Cascais

The last stop on our Portugal adventure returned us to where we began nearly three weeks earlier. Our destination was a former fishing village and retreat for nobility turned lively ocean-side beach town just 20 minutes from Lisbon. Although fishermen still call Cascais home, their catch most likely ends up on menus of many restaurants serving the thousands of tourists who flock there. When not at the beaches

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lapped by sparkling blue water, most visitors crowd the town’s narrow cobblestone pedestrian streets flanked by eateries and shops housed in colorful contemporary and 19th-century buildings.

We had a hunch Cascais would be a candidate for a home base for our future European adventures. It is close to Lisbon, a major city with premier cultural

institutions, fine distinctive cuisine, quality healthcare, and a major international airport. Plus the moderate weather is comparable to the climate we’re addicted to in San Diego. Cascais is a little more expensive than many of our Portugal destinations, but it is still far more affordable than anything on the California coast.

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It also has a nice blend of locals and visitors.

Too many visitors often turn a town into a Disneyland-like version of itself. Cascais felt real, with grocery stores, farmer’s markets, movie theaters, shopping centers, and shops catering to the needs of residents, not just visitors. It’s many parks draw local families and kids as well as tourists looking for a seat in the shade.

Our favorite is a little pocket park, Jardim Visconde da Luz, in the heart of the village. It has lots of benches for people watching, especially the children delighting in their ride on the park’s antique merry-go-round. Marechal Carmona Park is another must destination if you have kids.

It’s alive with peacocks, peahens, roosters, turtles, ducks, and pigeons and boasts a children's library, indoor toy play area and large grassy areas with playground equipment.

Beaches are one of Cascais’ biggest draws and a prime reason it’s considered the best resort town of the Lisbon coastline. There are wild surfing beaches like Praia do Guincho as well as more placid family-friendly ones like Praia da Duquesa or Praia do Tamariz. One of our favorite spots for beach people watching was on the edge of the historic center overlooking Praia da Conceição, which dramatically stretches and shrinks with the tides.

Cascais also offers dining to suit every culinary whim and wallet, with the biggest concentration of eateries in the historic center.

They cater to locals as well as visitors, so standards are high and prices are pleasantly low.

We also noticed that most restaurants were locally owned and operated. Service is generally good and friendly, although at peak times servers are spread thin so it’s best to adopt the unhurried Portuguese pace and relax. Don’t expect the waiter to the bring check; like most European countries you must ask for it.

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At this point in our travels, we craved a change of pace from Portuguese specialties. We had traveled to Japan with our companions Ira and Barbara and loved our shared dining experiences on that trip. So when we spied great TripAdvisor reviews for the Japanese restaurant Ka Sushi Cave, we made a reservation. That evening, we wandered around the streets of the old city for 10 minutes searching for the place when as luck would have it, a woman appeared out of nowhere, asked if we were the James party and led us down a back alley to our table.

Our rescuer, Sanya, turned out to be the coowner of the establishment along with her husband Rune, a Norwegian expat who knows fresh seafood. We left the ordering in the hands of our hosts who lived all over the world before discovering Cascais. Neither is Japanese, but they did their homework and hired talented chefs who guarantee each day’s offerings are the very

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freshest catch. My favorite dish was the salmon tartare topped with quail eggs -- something I probably wouldn’t have ordered on my own -- but it was a standout. Rolls were stunning in presentation and flavor, so were the gyoza with just the right crunch on the outside and filling that melted in your mouth.

By the end of the meal, we had made new friends and discovered a dining gem. We told our hosts we’d return during our next trip in six months. But we ended up coming back a couple of days later to celebrate our last night in Portugal.

The meal was even better.

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EATING LISBON We didn’t spend too much time in Lisbon on this trip, but during a port stop on the transatlantic cruise that brought us to Europe for this adventure, we did get a taste of Portugal’s capital via WineSpots & Portuguese "Petiscos" led by wine aficionado Gonzalo Salgado.

This dapper young man shared with us the culture and lore of some up and coming Lisbon neighborhoods as only a native of this vibrant city could.

I had never heard of "petiscos," (pronounced petishkus) until booking this tour. Most folks, including me, would call these small plates the Portuguese version of tapas, which it turns out would be a slight affront to Lisbon residents. According to Gonzalo, tapas is the Spanish name for snack-like dishes like cheese, olives. and nuts while Portuguese petiscos are

more substantial fare along with plenty of beer and wine. Both are casual, unfussy experiences usually enjoyed in the evening.

Gonzalo greeted us at the dock and led a dozen or so cruisers to the heart of Lisbon’s Chiado neighborhood, emerging as one of Europe’s most intriguing wine and food destination. We stopped at a handful of small to medium-sized establishments, each with distinct menus and character, tucked into storefronts along narrow often steep cobblestone streets. Places like these are the lifeblood of the neighborhoods. They exist all over the world but visitors usually need a guide like Gonzalo to find them and help with orders.

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In addition to this neighborhood, our group also toured Bairro Alto and trendy Cais do Sodré, where we were treated to good-sized portions of petiscos including some wonderful soft cheeses and memorable salt cod fritters. For meat-eaters, there’s the bifana, a favorite Portuguese sandwich made with sliced pork or beef - cheap, delicious and filling. For a perfect ending, we satisfied sweet tooths with a warm pastel de nata at the city’s new thriving food hall, Time Our Market. “The best in town,” said Gonzalo. I agreed.

We also took a surprise trip down memory lane at one of our last stops on the tour, By The Wine - José Maria da Fonseca, a beautiful and very busy restaurant where fashionable Lisbon residents were sharing bottles at the attractive long bar. In our private dining area, we too quaffed many bottles, including an unexpected old friend.

Most of our group were Baby Boomers and some of our first wine experiences were with two iconic brands, Mateus and Lancers, in uniquely shaped bottles recycled into candle holders. Our restaurant host, José Maria da Fonseca, one of Portugal’s largest winemakers, are the proud owners of both brands.

We asked for a bottle, remembering the association with happy times many years ago. Our amused tour guide acceded to our wishes. No it didn’t measure up to the many great wines we had tried on this grand trip -- but it did help transport us giddily down memory lane. And good times continued to roll.

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IF YOU We would like to sincerly thank a few key players who helped make our wonderful Portugal Adventure happen especially Helga Cruz of the Algarve Tourism Bureau. www.algarvepromotion.pt – www.visitgolfalgarve.com – www.visitalgarve.pt Anantara Vilamoura Algarve Resort Cristina Borges, Ana Coelho, Wine Guru Bruno Cunha and EMO chef Bruno Viega. https://www.anantara.com/en/

Vila Vita Parc Resort Ocean Restaurant’s Executive Chef Hans Neuner and his entire team.

Adega Restaurant https://vilavitaparc.com/en/

Olive Tree restaurant Vale d’Oliveiras Quinta resort, chef Bruno Augusto https://www.valedoliveirasresort.com/the-olive-treerestaurant

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UGO Eating Algarve Food Tours António Guerreiro https://eatingalgarvetours.com/en/

Dream Wave Boat Tours Algarve https://www.dreamwavealgarve.com/en/ “Benagil secrets” jeep tour https://www.extremoambiente.pt/en/ Cork Factory Tour Algarve https://experitour.com/listings/cork-factory-toursao-bras-de-alportel-algarve/

Porto and North Tourism Association https://www.portocvb.com/ #visitporto and #visitportoandnort Instagram: @visitporto and @visitportoandnorth.

Americans Living in Portugal Facebook Group https://www.facebook.com/groups/americanslivingin portugal16/ WineSpots & Portuguese "Petiscos" Gonzalo Salgado https://www.airbnb.com/experiences/83482/

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By Wibke Carter

T

he sun is blazing, not a cloud in the sky. My eye wanders over sprawling vineyards, the waiter hands me a glass of local champagne. No, hold on.

Stop. Rewind. The sun is blazing, not a cloud in the sky. My eye wanders over sprawling vineyards, the waiter hands me a glass of local English sparkling wine. Wait. What? I’m in England? My surroundings and the hot weather feel so alien, I have for a second forgotten I’m in Hambledon, less than two hours from London, and not somewhere more southern where vineyards belong to the landscape like well, flutes to champagne.

“I imagine hell like this: Italian punctuality, German humor and English wine,” quipped the late actor Sir Peter Ustinov in 2008. Little did he know that more than a decade later British bubbles are all the rage. There are now more than 450 wineries producing 3.15 million bottles annually in the country.

The climate of the South and South East England makes it a particularly popular region for growing vines, especially in Hampshire, Sussex and Kent.

“Geological mapping has shown that the chalky grounds in this area are identical to those in Champagne”, explains Lisa Eagan on a tour through Hambledon Vineyard. “In fact, the French like our soil so much they have started buying several acres in the UK because there are not many affordable ones left in France.” And considering the hefty price tag of 1.1 million euro ($1.25 million) per hectare in Champagne, the five digit sales in Hampshire seem like a bargain.

Only 22 miles north of Hambledon lies another award-winning vineyard, Hattingley Valley. “Wine making here is still a very young industry where innovation is the key”, says marketing manager Rebecca Fisher. “And wine

Tipsy Tripp

ping in Hampshire Bombay Sapphire is famous for its bright blue bottle copyright Bombay Sapphire

Hambledon is one of seven vineyards in Hampshire copyright Wibke Carter. Opposite: Hattingley Valley harvest copyright The Electric Eye Photography

tourism is definitely becoming a thing. We’ve started partnering with other local vineyards to offer a “Cellar Door Day” once a month when we’re all open and customers can just drop in for a tasting”.

Never one to turn down a good drop, I happily drink, not just sip and spit, my way through four samples of Hattingley Valley wines from the Classic Reserve (somewhat toasty flavoured) to the 2014 Rosé (hints of strawberry). The pièce de résistance is the 2011 Blanc de Blanc; made from the best Chardonnay parcels, it was awarded the ‘World Champion’ trophy in the Champagne and Sparkling Wine World Championships 2017. The bubbles quickly rise not only up through my nose but they also go to my head. Before I know it, the credit card is out, swiped and the £50 ($65) bottle handed over. Ouch, but I do have a big birthday coming up.

I stay overnight in Winchester, Hampshire’s mustsee capital. The historical town centre is so compact I manage to see various attractions during a leisurely

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evening stroll. From the imposing statue of King Alfred I walk along the river Itchen past the ruins of Wolsely Castle, and then onto the town’s crowning glory, Winchester Cathedral. The final resting place of writer Jane Austen, it is one of the longest medieval cathedrals in Europe, welcoming over 300,000 visitors a year. A stone’s throw away, the Old Vine, an 18th century grade II listed inn, spoils me over dinner with tasty local pub grub and, you guessed it, a glass of regional bubbles.

The next day, I head to Laverstoke Mill to find out more about the other British favourite tipple: gin.

There are now more than 160 brands across the UK according to the Gin Guild and whether drunk neat, with tonic or in a cocktail, there’s no end in sight for the love affair with gin.

Just 15 miles from Winchester and 60 miles from London, Bombay Sapphire has been operating in the historical distillery since 2010. Ten botanicals are used in the iconic blue bottled gin including Cassia

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Top: Within the glasshouses at Bombay Sapphire, guests can experience the ten exotic botanicals infused into the spirit copyright Bombay Above: The gin producer is operating in the historical Laverstock Mill copyright Wibke Carter. Opposite: Highclere Castle is the real Downton Abbey copyright Highclere Castle. Opposite: Some railways stations along the Watercress Line look like a 1950s television show copyright Wibke Carter

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Bark from Indo-China, Cubeb Berries from Java and Grains of Paradise from Ghana. The very first gin had a much humbler beginning. In the 1400s, a distilled spirit was flavoured with juniper to improve the taste and subsequently called “Genever”.

A visit to Bombay Sapphire is more than just a boozy day out. It’s a journey through the history of Laverstock Mill, its connection to the Bank of India, and a close-up of the Vapour Infusion distillation process. Gin lovers can create their own variation in a cocktail masterclass. At the end of the tour, I get a complimentary G&T, stored in a little takeaway bag, as I have to drive sober to my next stop.

Highclere Castle, prominently known as Downton Abbey, has been the home of the Carnarvon family for over 300 years, and gin was and is the drink of choice for generations. Enjoyed in the “Highclere Style”, the traditional method of indulgence involves a cocktail made with gin, tonic, a fresh orange squeeze and peel, and finished with a rosemary sprig.

“Juniper has grown wild on the estate since the days of the ancient Romans so it’s just like we were meant to make our own gin. We’re also using botanicals influenced by the castle's garden including lime flower, lavender and home-grown oats,” says Hannah Gutteridge.

In June, only a few months before the lives of the Crawley family and their servants will hit the big screen, Highclere Castle launched its own London Dry Gin. No doubt, the nail biting dramas at Downton Abbey are much more enjoyable with a good G&T at hand and thanks to this latest release we may feel just that tiny bit closer to Lady and Lord Grantham.

After all the delicious, liquid tastings over the weekend I am ready to put up my feet and what a better way to finish my trip than with a ride on the Watercress Line? Since 1865, the county’s only standard gauge heritage railway has been chugging its way through the green hills and picturesque small villages of Hampshire, some of which look like out of a 1950s BBC television show.

As I settle into the vintage carriage, I begin reading the brochure given to me. Turns out I should’ve waited a few more hours and taken the evening departure that day. The steam-hauled Real Ale Train, or RAT, on which passengers can sample local ales while traveling for ten miles through idyllic countryside is one of the most popular rides. Of course it is! In this part of England, I learnt, you can’t go wrong with a drink made in Hampshire.

IF YOU GO: www.visit-hampshire.co.uk www.hambledonvineyard.co.uk www.hattingleyvalley.com www.bombaysapphire.com www.highclerecastle.co.uk www.watercressline.co.uk

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By Sharon Whitley Larsen

THEUNKNOWNKE

S

he's the "unknown Kennedy" whose older brother, John F. Kennedy, became a U.S. president and was assassinated in 1963. Two other brothers, Joseph Jr. and Robert, also died tragically--Joseph Jr. in a World War II plane crash; Robert in 1968--also by an assassin's bullet. Her youngest brother, Senator Edward Kennedy, died of a cancerous brain tumor in 2009.

Many people are familiar with the tragic story of the Kennedys. But few know much about Kathleen, who snagged a wealthy, titled British aristocratic. He was William Cavendish, the Marquess of Hartington — the powerful 10th Duke of Devonshire's son and heir not only to the title, but to the palatial Chatsworth House estate, among other rich properties. He was such a catch that the British royal family apparently had their eye on him for their own Princess Elizabeth, the future queen.

Kathleen, nicknamed "Kick," married Billy, as he was called, when she was 24, on May 6, 1944, in London. A World War II romance, they were very much in love--despite their different faiths, which raised great conflict within their families: His family, for hundreds of generations, was very much Church of England, and hers was devout Roman

Catholic. In fact, the family matriarch Rose Kennedy noted that she was "disturbed, horrified, heartbroken" that her daughter Kathleen had married a Protestant — and in a civil ceremony at that (Kathleen's brother Joseph was the only family member to attend). Rose didn't have contact with her for nearly two months after the wedding.

It was a sad, romantic tale: The young couple were together only five weeks before Billy's Coldstream Guards regiment was ordered to France. Three months later he was fatally shot in Belgium, just a month after Joseph Jr., the oldest Kennedy brother, was killed in a military plane crash.

Kathleen had first come to London in 1938 with her charismatic clan as a vivacious teenager. Her father Joseph had been appointed U.S. ambassador to the Court of St. James's. She quickly wowed British society, becoming one of its top debutantes.

"She was not beautiful, but her vitality and charm were such that she was the one who drew attention in a crowd," wrote the 11th Duchess of Devonshire, Billy's sister-in-law Deborah (known prior to her 2014 death as Her Grace The Dowager Duchess) in her fascinating book Chatsworth: The House. "Her high spirits, funny American turn of phrase,

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ENNEDY The wedding of William Cavendish, Marquess of Hartington to Kathleen Kennedy, with Mary Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire (far left), Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. (second from right) and Edward Cavendish, 10th Duke of Devonshire (far right).

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so like her brother Jack's, and extreme good nature made her far more attractive than most pale English beauties. She was loved by everyone who knew her."

Following the shocking death of both her beloved brother and husband within a month, a grieving Kathleen —after spending some time at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire with Billy's consoling family — decided to return to London, where she bought a townhouse. While volunteering at a charity dance in June 1946, she met a dashing man — another wealthy British aristocrat named Peter Fitzwilliam, the 8th Earl Fitzwilliam, whose family seat was Wentworth House, an amazing "palace" in South Yorkshire, with a room for each day of the year. He was also Protestant and, even worse, still married (separated from his wife) with an 11-year-old daughter. It was nearly love at first sight for the couple. (Several fascinating books give much detail about Kathleen's life: Kathleen Kennedy by Lynne McTaggart; Black Diamonds by Catherine Bailey; and the more recent Kick Kennedy: The Charmed Life and Tragic Death of the Favorite Kennedy Daughter by Barbara Leaming; and Kick: The True Story of JFK's Sister and the Heir to Chatsworth by Paula Byrne.)

But theirs was not a happy ending, either.

Reportedly on their way to a romantic getaway in the South of France in May 1948 (before planning to meet Joseph Kennedy in Paris to discuss their desire to wed), their small, chartered plane crashed in stormy weather, instantly killing them. Kathleen was 28. The Kennedy patriarch was the only family member to attend her London funeral Mass and later burial in a tiny graveyard at St. Peter's Church in Edensor, near Chatsworth House.

What an irony that, as ambitious as Joseph Sr. was for his children — aspiring for them to achieve great success in politics and other professional and social endeavors, even grooming his eldest son to be U.S. president some day —that Kathleen had become the Marchioness of Hartington (and was known as Lady Hartington) upon marrying into one of England's oldest, most distinguished, and wealthiest families. But that apparently was not enough, because they were Protestant. (How times have changed with the subsequent generations.)

Today, visitors can see the tiny Protestant churchyard in the charming village where Kathleen is buried in the Cavendish family plot, with a plaque by her gravestone noting the June 1963 visit of JFK just months before his own death. And, about a mile away, is Chatsworth House, the gorgeous 297-room estate where, prior to her marriage, Kathleen had celebrated her 24th birthday. Each year, some halfmillion visitors tour 30 rooms of Chatsworth House, which for nearly five centuries--16 generations--has been the Cavendish family home. Currently, the

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12th Duke and Duchess of Devonshire and their family reside there.

The Chatsworth House you see today is mostly rebuilt (and it was later expanded during the 19th century by the "Bachelor Duke") on the original footprint that, back in 1552, had been the dream of the ambitious Bess of Hardwick, mother of eight, who inherited wealth from her four marriages. She was said to be the most powerful woman in England after the queen.

"There is no theme, no connecting style," wrote the Dowager Duchess in her book of this massive estate. "Each room is a jumble of old and new, English and foreign, thrown together by generations of acquisitive inhabitants."

But the elegant rooms — including the entry, the breathtaking Painted Hall and its dramatic staircase — house priceless artwork, spanning some 4,000 years, from ancient Roman and Egyptian sculpture to Rembrandt masterpieces. The massive collection includes priceless china, tapestries and furnishings, including the throne chairs and footstools made for the coronation of King George III and Queen Charlotte. The library has nearly 50,000 volumes, one of the finest private collections, which visiting scholars may use.

It was here at Chatsworth where Mary, Queen of Scots spent some time as a prisoner of Queen Elizabeth I; where King George V and Queen May stayed — as well as King Edward VII. It was also here in the Great Dining Room where, in 1832, a young Princess Victoria — who would become the renowned queen — visited for a few days with her mother, experiencing her first formal, adult dinner when she was 13.

And Chatsworth has been the site of several films, including "Pride and Prejudice" -- and "The Duchess" — about the life of the colorful Georgiana Cavendish, 5th Duchess of Devonshire and an ancestor of Diana, Princess of Wales.

But what got my attention on the day that I toured Chatsworth — following an earlier visit that morning to Kathleen Kennedy's gravesite — was a photograph in the portrait gallery. There, near a bust of Queen Elizabeth II — among all the huge, color portraits of Cavendish ancestors and other British aristocracy — hangs a modest black-andwhite photo of a young, smiling Kathleen wearing her Red Cross uniform.

"Her charm comes through," the Dowager Duchess wrote of the photo, "and you can see why she was the most popular girl of my generation."

IF YOU GO www.chatsworth.org

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Story & Photography by Amy Laughinghouse

LANZAROTE Spain’s Out of This World Destination

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s my airplane swoops down towards Lanzarote, the scene growing ever larger outside the cabin windows isn’t really what I was expecting. With its barren, brownish-red surface pockmarked by tall, conical peaks, it looks less like an island beach paradise and more like another planet—The Planet of the Ants.

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Princesa Yaiza five-star luxury resort on Lanzarote has six swimming pools. Right: Same pool reflects a fiery sunset on Lanzarote.

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I’ve been assured, however, those towering “ant hills” were not made by giant alien insects at all. Oh, no. Those were created by volcanoes. Um, not to worry, then, right?

Yes, like all of Spain’s Canary Islands off the West Coast of Africa, Lanzarote was born of some hot tectonic plate action. The last whopper of an eruption began in 1730 and lasted for six, count ‘em, six years, with lava and ash destroying villages and eventually covering approximately two-thirds of the island. The most recent eruption occurred in 1824, but that one only lasted two months. So, y’know, no biggie.

Given its lack of lush tropical trappings, what is it that draws nearly three million visitors a year to this hardscrabble Atlantic isle, covering less than 330 square miles? In a word: climate. Not too hot, not too cold, and sunshine virtually guaranteed.

Average temperatures range from 69 degrees Fahrenheit in January to 84 degrees Fahrenheit in August, and there are typically fewer than 20 rainy days in a year.

There’s also a selection of Blue Flag beaches, with white sand imported from the Sahara.

It is, in fact, the promise of a fool-proof, sun-drenched seaside holiday that brings me to the five-star luxury Princesa Yaiza Suite Hotel Resort on Lanzarote’s southern coast. Located in the town of Playa Blanca, home to a shoplined boardwalk and luxury marina, the Princesa Yaiza rises above the Playa Dorada beach like a white Moorish castle…or indeed, like an entire city unto itself.

This sprawling, 385-room hotel encompasses an indoor jungle---which may be the greenest spot on the island---as well as a Thalassotherapy spa, a family leisure and sports facility, six pools, four bars, and nine restaurants. Dining options include Spanish tapas, Italian, Mexican, and a Japanese Teppanyaki restaurant, where the chef prepares your food on a hot grill right in front of you.

But the most unique offering is Isla de Lobos, which serves gourmet Canary Island cuisine using fruit, vegetables, cheese and meat sourced from the resort’s own farm, the Finca de Uga. Once a month, Princesa Yaiza offers guests an opportunity to visit the Finca de Uga, about a 20-minute drive northeast of the resort. The experience helps visitors understand where their food comes from and how the animals are looked after on this high-welfare farm.

Paco Fabelo, the farm’s director, greets my friends and I at the gate to show us around. First, he introduces us to the pigs, which include two species: Iberian and Black Canary. “They are really happy, because they enjoy a beautiful spa,” says Fabelo, motioning to a large fountain where the inhabitants can cool their hooves.

Then we move on to meet some friendly Majorero milking goats, a breed specific to the Canary Islands. “They are very close to an African species and can withstand the hot weather,” Fabelo explains, as several goats rear up on their hind legs to nuzzle their visitors. “They give good milk

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because they will eat dry grass, which has very high-quality fat.”

We briefly visit a few female cows, including one randy girl who insists on mounting all her friends. Maybe she’s been peering over the fence at the bull, who breeds with four lucky ladies every week. “He’s the happiest animal on the farm,” Fabelo grins.

The workers play music for the animals—Latin, pop and rock in the morning, and classical or “Zen” tunes in the evening. Judging from some of the behavior I’ve seen among these critters today, I reckon they’ve been listening to a little too much Barry White, if you know what I mean.

It’s hard to say whether the highlight of our tour is getting to hold bleating baby lambs, with their puppy-soft fur and floppy ears, or visiting the dairy. Several of Fabelo’s mouth-watering cheeses, made from various combinations of sheep, goat and cow’s milk, have been honored at the World Cheese Awards.

The drive from the resort to the farm has also whet my appetite for something else---Lanzarote’s Martian-like landscape. Even the folks at NASA think it’s “out-of-this-world,” apparently. According to Gladys Becerra, who works in Princesa Yaiza’s marketing department, American astronauts on the Apollo missions studied photographs of Lanzarote’s surface to help them prepare for landing on the moon.

“Some people think there is nothing here, because it’s not green,” Becerra says. “But there is beauty; it’s just different.”

The entire island has been named a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, which places strict restrictions on development. Roadside billboards are forbidden, and most houses can be no more than two stories tall, with a paint palette limited to sandy “Sahara” or gleaming white. As a result, the rural villages look like low stacks of sugar cubes…all the better to feed the alien ant invaders, I imagine.

The best place to experience the volcanic drama of Lanzarote is Timanfaya National Park on the southwestern end of the island. It is here, where the Montañas del Fuego (Fire Mountains) now stand, that the eruptions of the 18th and 19th centuries occurred. Even today, its arid plains and lava fields remain devoid of plant life, except for some pioneering patches of lichen.

While you can’t just lace up your hiking boots and tramp off through the lava fields wherever you like on your own, there are other ways to explore.

You can arrange a guided hike in the park, saddle up for a camel tour, or take a bus tour around the Ruta de los Volcanes.

You can also get a feel for the powerful forces that created this incredible landscape at the Islote

de Hilario. This hilltop stop within the park features a jaw-dropping panoramic view and several areas where park workers demonstrate the fierce heat that still lurks in pockets beneath the earth. The tastiest example is at El Diablo Restaurant, where chefs grill meat on a barbecue using only geothermic heat.

More curiosities beckon along the coast. At Los Hervideros, north of Playa Blanca, visitors can sometimes witness a strange phenomenon—a seemingly boiling sea and geyser-like ocean spray as powerful tides force water into lava tunnels that undercut the cliffs above.

Stranger still is the Lago Verde at El Golfo, just north of Los Hervideros. This striking, emerald

Above: Lago Verde, located within a halfcollapsed volcanic crater in El Golfo, Lanzarote, is a striking green lake bordered by a black volcanic beach. Opposite: Camel rides are a popular activity for tourists on Lanzarote. Right: Majorero goats, such as this one on Finca de Uga farm on Lanzarote, can withstand very hot, dry climates.

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green lake lies inside a half-collapsed crater at the ocean’s edge, separated from the Atlantic by a black volcanic pebble crescent. Instead of hunting for shells, beach-combers are more likely to come across bits of peridot, a pale, glassy-green type of olivine.

Of all the natural wonders I witness on Lanzarote, there is one that I look forward to every night. Reclining on a chaise lounge beside Princesa Yaiza’s central swimming pool, I wait for the show to begin.

As the sun sinks low on the horizon, the burning gold disc yields to luminous clouds smoldering in shades of pink and purple, the beauty of the spectacle doubled by its reflection in the mirror-like pool. Lanzarote’s volcanoes may be sleeping, but this isle’s ethereal, otherworldly spark is resurrected like a Phoenix in celestial flames.

Top: When there's a strong swell, the ocean at Lanzarote's Los Hervideros can appear to boil as water rushes into the caves below the cliffs. Left: Playa Dorada beach on Lanzarote's southern coast. Above: Sunset over Playa Blanca on Lanzarote.

IF YOU GO Getting there: Fly into Lanzarote (Arracife) Airport.

Where to stay: Princesa Yaiza Suite Hotel Resort. www.princesayaiza.com.

Tourism information: www.turismolanzarote.com/en/, www.spain.info/en_GB/

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Treasure Worth $3-$4 Million In the Mountains North of Santa of Fe W

By Margie Goldsmith omewhere in the mountains north of Santa Fe, Forrest Fenn, a legendary former fighter pilot and art dealer has hidden a treasure chest containing irreplaceable items including gold nuggets the size of chicken eggs, two ancient carved jade faces from China, preColombia gold figures a 17th century Spanish gold and emerald ring, and other priceless objects. While Fenn has never said what he thinks the treasure is worth, some have estimated it to be valued at $4 million dollars; others says it’s closer to $6 million.

Why would this mischievous Indiana Jones-type millionaire hide a treasure in the first place?

In 1998, Forrest Fenn developed cancer and was told he had only a 20% chance of surviving. Thinking he didn’t have much time left, he sold his prestigious art gallery. After a long bout of chemo and radiation, the cancer went into remission, but doctors said the cancer could recur. Fenn told himself, “If it comes back, I’m going to grab 52 sleeping pills, a bottle of single-malt Scotch, fill a treasure chest with booty and a copy of my autobiography, and I’m going to walk deep into the forest and end it all there. Sometime they’ll find my bones and the treasure, and my autobiography will be inside the box, so at least they’ll know who I was.”

It’s not as though Fenn was unknown. He’d owned the most successful art gallery in Santa Fe with works including Remingtons and Russells and O’Keefes – every major artist of Western art, most of whose pieces are now in museums from The Buffalo Bill Historical Center in Cody, Wyoming to the Chicago Art Institute. Fenn’s clients included Ralph Lauren, Robert Redford, Jacqueline Onassis, Sam Shepard,

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David Rockefeller, and Steven Spielberg.

In a way, Fenn credits Ralph Lauren for the idea to hide the treasure. Lauren was in Santa Fe visiting Fenn during the time Fenn was told he had only a 20% chance of survival. He had already sold his successful Santa Fe art gallery and was waiting for the inevitable.

Many of his friends stopped by to visit him at his home which was filled with over 3,000 pieces of museum-quality art ranging from an important 18th century painted buffalo skin, the pipe of the Dakota Sioux Indian leader, Sitting Bull, to early Southwest Indian Pottery and rare Plains Indian medicine bonnets.

Ralph Lauren saw Fenn’s favorite piece – a Crow Indian’s white ermine medicine bonnet and made an offer. As this was Fenn’s dearest treasure, he refused to sell. Ralph Lauren commented, “well, you can’t take it with you.” To which Fenn replied, “Then I’m not going.”

But Lauren’s visit gave Fenn an idea. Inspired by childhood adventure stories of pirates’ booty, Fenn started to write his autobiography, jotting down incidents and remembrances as they occurred to him.

He had Kinko’s Copy Shop reduce the manuscript to minuscule type, rolled it like a scroll and placed it in a wax-sealed glass jar to keep it waterproof. He put the jar into an antique treasure chest along with handpicked items from his personal collection. Then he took the chest and drove somewhere north of the Santa Fe mountains where he hid the treasure.

Fenn didn’t draw a treasure map but he selfpublished a memoir The Thrill of the Chase, which included a poem with nine clues necessary to finding the treasure:

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Waiting to Be Found

Begin it where warm waters halt And take it in the canyons down, Not far, but too far to walk.

Put in below the home of Brown.

From there it’s no place for the meek, The end is ever drawing nigh; They’ll be no paddle up your creek, Just heavy loads and water high.

If you’ve been wise and found the blaze, Look quickly down, your quest to cease, But tarry scant with marvel gaze, Just take the chest and go in peace Since Fenn hid the treasure and wrote the book nine years ago, thousands of people have searched.

Still, the treasure has yet to be found. An estimated 350,000 people have searched including some who have looked multiple times. Fenn receives about 100 emails a day and has stored about 250,000 of these on his external hard drive. Many have requested additional clues by email, but Fenn insists that all the clues necessary to finding the treasure are in the poem. He will say that the treasure can be found somewhere in the Rocky

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Mountains north of Santa Fe, higher than 5,000 feet above sea level, and not in Nevada, Idaho, Utah or Canada.

The search isn’t limited to the Rocky Mountains.

New York City police caught a man digging in Central Park near the Alice in Wonderland sculpture because he’d heard that Fenn could quote from Lewis Carroll’s book. Another searcher asked, if his truck broke down in the mountains, would Fenn come and take him the rest of the way to the treasure? Two brothers, who had not seen each other for 17 years were reunited to search for the treasure, An 8-year-old girl emailed Fenn. “If I find the treasure, do I have to share it with my brother?”

“The treasure is difficult to find, so no one will find it right away, but it’s easy enough so that it’s not impossible to find,” says Fenn. “I want sweaty bodies out there looking for my treasure – they just have to find the clues.”

Not all the bodies are sweaty.

In spite of winter snow and ice in the Rocky Mountains, some die-hard searchers still brave the winter elements because they think if they wait, someone will find the treasure ahead of them. They risk everything and in the last eight years, four people have died trying to find the treasure: one died of hypothermia, two drowned and one fell off a mountain. Despite warnings that are posted on multiple web sites and posted warnings from Forrest Fenn, people come from all over the world to look in all seasons.

Seven years ago, Dal Neitzel, a Washington State TV station manager and searcher started a blog to share clues with fellow treasure hunters. Since its inception, the blog has garnered nearly 20,048,000 views, 291,800 comments, and 249 stories plus several hours of exclusive interviews with Fenn. None of Fenn’s tales offer additional clues, but still the searchers analyze every word he writes. There are about 800 or more unique visitors per hour and on discussion pages, a quarter of a million comments.

One man flew to Santa Fe from London two times

because he thought he knew where he could find the chest. (He didn't). A recent newspaper story in the major Milan newspaper led to 10 Italians planning a trip to search as a group and split the money if they found the booty. An article about the treasure in a German magazine led to a large group of German searchers. There’s also interest from Russia and Brazil.

A father, searching with his grown son was sure he had solved the clues. The two slept in a van and shared their hopes for the future, but after two days, they gave up looking. The father wrote to Fenn thanking him for The Thrill of the Chase and explaining that if it hadn’t been for the book, the two would never have had this time with each other.

Others email Fenn to thank him for getting their family off of the couch and into the wind and sun.

This pleases Fenn who says his real aim of hiding the chest was to get kids away from their devices and encourage families to go out into the woods.

One seeker wanted to know, ‘is the gold going to rust?’ When two men fighting for the same parking space in Jackson Hole discovered they were both looking for the treasure, they searched together. A mother, writing that her son wanted to look in Grebe Lake, asked, ‘Does Yellowstone Park control the alligators?’

A few think the bronze chest will melt if there’s a forest fire and the gold will spill out.

In spite of some ridiculous beliefs, Fenn admits there are dangers involved. “Things can complicate the search such as earthquakes, mudslides, forest fires, floods, trees and rocks falling,” says Fenn.

“There are those who have been at risk in water when they attempted to search someplace where it was not really safe to go. Some have not been prepared to face the elements after they parked their car and started walking. Some have lacked the proper clothing and food and water. One man rode 28 miles on a bicycle in the snow and almost froze after getting wet.”

Fenn wants searchers to stay safe. He is also

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determined not to reveal any meaningful additional clues. An irritated woman complained that the clues were too difficult, so he gave her a new clue; he told her the treasure is located more than 300 miles west of Toledo, Ohio.

The story of Forrest Fenn and his treasure inspired NY Times best-selling author, Douglas Preston to write The Codex. Says Preston, who has written 27 books, “the story is based on what Forrest told me, but Forrest is much nicer, kinder, and more honest than the main character in The Codex.”

Fenn hasn’t even told tell his wife Peggy or their children where the treasure is hidden. “Because he knew that once he involved someone else, the secret would be let out of the bag,’ says Preston. “I was concerned that some really clever person would find it quickly – someone who knew about Forrest Fenn’s life,” says Preston, ‘but Forrest said no, the treasure is really well hidden and that it might take at least 100 years for someone to find it because even with the clues, it’s still difficult to find.’

There are some who question whether there is actually a treasure at all. But Preston, one of the only people to have seen the treasure chest and its contents before Fenn hid it says, “I held it with my own hands, and I can assure everyone this is no publicity stunt -- that gold is out there. Some of the most wonderful things in the treasure are enormous gold nuggets the size of hen’s eggs -- so big and heavy and rounded and cold, weighing more than a troy pound each, and worth several times their bullion value.

There are antique gold coins, pre-Columbian gold animal figures and jewelry, a bracelet made from turquoise beads excavated in 1898 from Mesa Verde, which Fenn won in a pool game. He put things in the treasure chest that would survive a long time and that would be interesting and unusual -- not just gold bars, which are kind of boring. The chest itself is rare, 16th century Italian, and with the gold inside, it weighs 44 pounds.

Fenn tells searchers to grab their water bottles and come search. “You just have to find the clues,” he insists. Fenn has not gone back to the location to see if the treasure is still there because he is sure he will be followed by searchers. “I was hoping the treasure chase would cause some excitement and get a few guys out into the mountains,” says Fenn. “I did not expect it to get so big so fast, and I think I will be a little disappointed if someone finds the chest because the mystery will be gone.” But on the other hand, says Fenn, “In 13 months, I’ll be 90 years old so I wish someone would hurry up and find the treasure.”

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The Kasba

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ah Trail

BY KITTY MORSE

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first travelled as a child with my parents along Morocco”s mythical Kasbah Trail, the narrow ribbon of asphalt that links a string of crenelated kasbahs (fortified Berber villages) in the shadow of the snow-capped High Atlas Mountains. In the twenty-first century, this “Road of One Thousand Kasbahs,” as travel brochures sometimes refer to it, has become one of Morocco’s prime tourist destinations.

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I have driven across the desertic expanses of the Tafilalet countless times, the latest in April 2019. The mere thought of viewing the pre-Sahara plains stretching into infinity always rekindles my sense of excitement. I am no longer among the “privileged” few. The “trail” of old, where Saharabound vehicles were an anomaly, now ferries a daily stream of tour buses that often cover the exotic two-hundred mile stretch in one day from the northernmost point at Erfoud to its southern end at Ouarzazate.

On one of my visits in the late 1990s, a plume of white water surged from the Sahara floor and arched over the heads of awed onlookers, who stared at the “miracle,” mouth agape. Many had walked the eight miles from Erfoud to view the extraordinary sight, a first, that King Hassan II, father of present-day King Mohammed VI, had named "The Gift from God“. Sadly, the waters never proved potable. To this day, only a rust colored stream gurgles timidly onto the dry soil. Yet, the hope of tapping into the life-giving water table springs eternal. On my latest trip, water bubbled feebly onto the bare soil, though the miraculous “gift”— water suitable for irrigation — had yet to materialize and quench the thirst of this bone-dry landscape.

My latest journey along the Kasbah Trail, better known for its desert panoramas than for its flowing streams, began in Erfoud, once a major crossroad for trans-Saharan camel caravans that originated in the Sudan and Guinea. While Erfoud prospered, only scattered ruins remain of neighboring Sijilmassa, birthplace of the reigning 1000-year-old Alaouite dynasty. The historic outpost welcomes archaeologists from around the globe to unearth Sijilmassa’s legendary splendors.

Erfoud once thrived on the cultivation of Medjool dates, the main sustenance for Tuaregs, the Blue Men of the Sahara, so called because the natural indigo blue dye of their turbans rubs off onto their skin. A traffic light regulates traffic in Erfoud, though life in the oasis follows the same rhythm it has for centuries. Donkeys laden with bales of mint trot along narrow paths delineating tidy family plots of alfalfa, fava beans, or squash.

Many women drape a corner of their black haik over one eye, as is the custom, and will turn their back on photographers.

On my last visit, our goal was to reach the dunes of Merzouga, about an hour south, by sunset.

We parked our car in Erfoud, and transferred to the air-conditioned van awaiting us at the Hotel Xaluca.

Yallah! Let’s go!” cried out our turbaned driver, before stepping on the gas in a cloud of sand.

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He soon had us zigzagging off the narrow ribbon of asphalt to race his colleagues across the chaotic landscape — the floor of an ocean dating back 350 million years. The area is a paleontologist’s dream where local quarries abound in prehistoric sea creatures. When I was younger, I too picked them off the desert floor, and helped myself to petrified cephalopods, ammonites, or trilobites. Indeed, professional digs not far from Erfoud yielded the entire skeleton of Spinosaurus, a giant of the Cretaceous. Nowadays, only certified establishments such as Manar Marble fossil and stone factory in Erfoud, are licensed to commercialize the black marble slabs studded with fossils.

Local drivers, though equipped with GPSs, often navigate the vast emptiness by intuition. We raced past recently erected hamlets, most of them built to accommodate the hundreds of employees who cater to the multitudes eager to spend a night or two under goathaired Bedouin tents. The long drive concluded at a sight forever stamped in my memory: Erg Chebbi’s wave upon wave of towering, marmalade-colored dunes looming above the infinity of the desert.

A gathering of giant black moths hugged the ground like a mirage on the horizon. What looked like a wainscot of gargantuan Lepidoptera — upon closer inspection turned into a dozen goat-haired tents. A small herd of tethered camels (technically one-humped dromedaries) crouched on the sand, each mount awaiting a rider.

Individual handlers helped us climb atop a recalcitrant beast who reacted with a grunt, as though reluctant to unfold its front legs, then the rear.

The handler, dressed in the blue gandoura (long, sleeveless garment) of a Tuareg, clucked sweet nothings in the beast’s ear while I clamped on for dear life. The man made sure I was safely astride the animal’s neck before our threesome fell into step with the “caravan” that plodded up a steep dune. More disgruntled sounds from the camel reached me a few yards of the peak. I dismounted with a jerk, and sank knee deep in the sand.

A slow ascent up the sandy incline brought me to the top just in time to catch the sun melt over the desert.

The beauty of the scene left me teary-eyed.

Whispers reverberated among the sandy hillocks like echoes from a deep well. Conversation ceased as we witnessed the sun’s multi-colored descent. I had to dab at my eyes to watch a small lizard-like creature disappear with a soft swish in the sand. No wonder Merzouga is today one of the country’s most sought-out destinations.

The camel ride had left me wobbly-kneed. I staggered to my tented room, an extension of the Xaluca hotel chain. Thankfully, each tent came equipped with a hot shower and an individual toilet. Refreshed in body and spirit, I followed the kilim-lined path to reach the dining area, to savor a bowl of steaming harira, cumin-

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flavored lentil soup, succulent mechoui (spit-roasted lamb), and mounds of couscous, the Moroccan staple, smothered in saffron-scented broth, chunks of beef, and fresh, seasonal vegetables. After the meal, I couldn’t resist poking my nose into the adjoining “kitchen” where the chef and his assistant had prepared our multi-course diffa, feast, using a simple Butane burner and rudimentary utensils.

“Couscous mezzian! Couscous very good!” I showered the cook with compliments. He smiled broadly and offered me a glass of mint tea.

“Bismillah!” he invoked, as we clinked glasses.

I left my host to enjoy a solitary walk under millions of twinkling blots. In my wake, a trio of Tuareg

musicians strummed softly on their goat-skinned instruments. The night sky, dark as squid ink, was splattered with stars and the Big Dipper felt almost within reach. A dog’s bark somewhere in the darkness followed me all the way to bed.

The first rays of the sun outlined the dunes in a golden hue when I stepped out into the quietude of a desert sunrise. The experience was short-lived.

Daylight soon flooded the landscape, setting the compound astir. Soon, I joined the others gathered around a breakfast of fresh orange juice, coffee, and an assortment of pastries. This would sustain us until the oasis of Tinerhir.

My husband and I first explored the Tinerhir palm

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grove while on our honeymoon, when ancient kasbahs in various stages of disrepair clung to the sides of the miles-long palm canyon. Today, no square meter is left undeveloped. Most jolting is the forest of barabool, a phonetic rendition of the French word parabole, satellite dish. Happily, despite a recent drought, gurgling seguias, irrigation ditches fed by the melting snows of the Atlas, meander through vegetable fields and blossoming orchards. Unchanged is the clip-clop of donkeys echoing under the green cathedral of palms.

Puffs of fragrant smoke rise from beehive ovens holding round loaves of anise-scented hobz (bread), an essential component of the Moroccan diet. Women in traditional haiks, bend at the waist to weed family plots, heavy silver bangles clinking on their wrists.

Others cluster around the communal well to fill amphoras. Tinerhir and the Todra Gorges remain a popular departure point for four-wheel drive vehicles to set forth on unpaved "pistes" (dirt roads) leading into the heart of the Atlas Mountains.

We continued southward to Boumalne du Dadès. Once a rather downtrodden kasbah clinging to a boulder-strewn hillside, Boumalne has morphed into a thriving commercial center thanks to its spectacular location overlooking the oasis.

Dwellings new and old reflect the colors of the surrounding landscape, standing like paper cut-outs against the green swath of the Dadès Valley. My hotel balcony, once again at a Xaluca hotel, offered an unobstructed view of the luxuriant palm grove. That night, a slender crescent of moon hung above the green sentinels like a comma in the universe. The muezzin's (Muslim prayer-leader) early morning call to prayer was the only sound to shatter the silence.

On set days, the hustle and bustle of a weekly souk creates a traffic jam along the kasbah trail, as it does in El Kalaa des Mgouna. Desert souks possess an aura all their own. Tribesmen from the surrounding plains gather to trade in dates, dust, and dromedaries.

As a teenager, I loved to mingle with the women in elaborate headdresses decorated in silver amulets, to listen to them haggle over the price of an eggplant or a live chicken. I still do. As always, clusters of men wait

patiently amidst the general cacophony for the services of barbers/bloodletters, in the hope that the loss of a few ounces of blood would maintain them in good health and protect them from the oppressive heat.

Under another tent, a small pile of fractured dental roots advertises the prowess of the itinerant dentist. But El Kalaa’s main industry is the cultivation of Damascene roses. In May and early June, the air is awash in the scent of blooms, and baskets overflowing with delicate pink flowers occupy an entire section of the souk.

Indeed, France’s bestknown parfumeurs rely on the annual harvest to create some of the world’s most expensive scents.

Each May, El Kalaa, hosts a rose festival and gathering of the tribes which attracts visitors from around the world.

Co-operatives specialized in the distillation of rose water line the road on the way out of town. Most are run by women who band together to manufacture and market their products.

One member of El Kalaa’s Co-operative Agricole Touterroir, clad in colorful kaftan and headdress, proudly showed off the factory’s modern distilling apparatus and the drying oven lined with trays of rose petals. The gift shop was crowded with Japanese and Italian travelers, who, like me, stocked up on rosescented creams, lotions, and balms. As we drove away, a group of young men pushed small leis fashioned from fresh roses through the open windows: “Les roses! Vingt dirhams!” (about USD2.50) they called out as we inched our way along..

Ouarzazate, at the southern end of the Kasbah trail, was once a stronghold of the French Foreign Legion. No trace of a fort survives. Instead, you can get a glimpse of life inside a kasbah at the restored Kasbah of Taourirt, in the heart of town. Film buffs will recognize Taourirt as a location for the Sheltering Sky, inspired by Paul Bowles’s book of the same name.

A few kilometers away, more sun-baked visitors mount peaceful assaults against the imposing Kasbah of Tifoultoute.

The derelict Kasbah offers commanding views of

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the surrounding landscape. Tifoultoute belonged to the Hadj Thami al Glaoui, Pasha of Marrakech, “Lord of the Atlas”, until 1956, the year Morocco attained its independence. My maternal grandfather, a diplomat who served under the French Protectorate, often dealt with Hadj Thami, and he used to regale us with tales of this fierce Berber overlord who, at the turn of the twentieth century, claimed many of these kasbahs as his individual domains until they were united under the present dynasty.

Present-day Ouarzazate has long-lost the aura of a remote desert outpost. In the early 70s, when my husband and I stayed in the oasis’s only governmentrun “auberge,” our room overlooked the desiccated landscape that surged into eddies of dust whipped by umbrella-toppling winds known as chergui or sirocco.

This mecca for the jet-set now boasts its own international airport, and hordes of weekend visitors fly in from Paris or Madrid to play golf on emeraldcolored greens.

Movie studios have turned the town into a Moroccan Bollywood. Numbers of blockbusters were filmed in the surrounding desert, such as Gladiator, The Man who Would be King, Game of Thrones, Black Hawk Down, Ishtar, and others too numerous to mention. Local hotels display old movie props, as they do at the elegant Bèrbère Palace. Escapees from European winters cluster in air-conditioned condos, and backpackers hoping for “the adventure of a lifetime” seek the shade of cyber cafés. Visible from miles around is the enormous tower of Noor (Arabic for “light”) the Ouarzazate Solar Power Station (OSPS), 10 miles out of town, the world’s largest

concentrated solar power plant that covers 450 hectares.

Though Ouarzazate technically marks the end of the scenic trail, I like to continue on to the historic Kasbah of Ait Ben Haddou, today a World Heritage Site, a dozen miles south. This entire ksar, another Glaoui possession in the late 1800s, has been restored to its original state, mainly to serve as a movie set and living museum where tribe members double as actors, recreating agrarian activities of old.

The terrace of one of the cafés across the Oued Mellah river from the imposing structures affords an unobstructed view of the iconic arched gateway and 11th century agadir, or communal grain silos. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself hop-scotching across the slippery rocks to reach the other side. A new bridge now stretched across the dry river bed.

In a strange twist of fate, the road that meanders through Morocco’s pre-Sahara plains, ended, for me, the way it began: in the contemplation of water.

Though the landscape of my childhood has undergone dramatic changes, the Kasbah Trail still retains a timeless appeal.

Kitty Morse is a food and travel writer who was born in Casablanca. She is the author of ten cookbooks, five of them on the cuisine of her native Morocco. Her latest, Mint Tea and Minarets: a banquet of Moroccan memories was published in 2012. It was selected “Best Book Arab Cuisine” by the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards. www.kittymorse.com.

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fiest

BY MARIBETH MELLIN

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLE

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ENDE

Dance troupes and marchers mingle before the parade.

Some marchers take their work seriously.

H

orse hooves clatter on cobblestone streets. Masked dance troupes in ribbons and fringe primp and preen as paradewatchers stream toward El Jardín and the pinkhued neoGothic Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel. Fireworks pop in the background.

Drummers practice their riffs. San Miguel de Allende, known for its endless processions and fiestas, is ready to celebrate its patron saint.

Hours and days pass in a whirl of images as I wander back streets, mingling with musicians and dancers from Michoacán, Chiapas and throughout Mexico. Pilgrims stream to the city from rural ranches and farms during the three-day Fiesta de San Miguel de Arcángel. City dwellers mingle with visitors jockeying for prime viewing spots along the parade route. Amusing ten-foot-high puppets called mojigangas stroll

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along the procession. Pungent clouds of copal incense float by, mingling with the aroma of roasted corn.

Crowds jam into the Centro to watch religious groups bear huge floral sculptures called xuchiles to the church, where they rise high against jagged pillars and spires. As the weekend progresses, huge intricate wood forms appear around the JardĂ­n to serve as the frameworks for elaborate castillos, or firework displays. The air is punctuated with blasts and horns seemingly 24/7.

San Miguel, in the sundrenched high mountain desert in central Mexico, serves as the perfect backdrop for this quintessentially Mexican celebration. Its 16th century Centro is a UNESCO World Heritage site with a core of 24 blocks of narrow stone sidewalks running past galleries, markets, sophisticated hotels and modest family-owned shops.

Buildings are painted subdued gold, rose, rust and blue, complementing the gray, white and ochre tones of historic mansions and churches.

Travel & Leisure's readers voted San Miguel the best city in the world for 2017 and 2018. It slipped to second place this year, but was named the American Capital of Culture for 2019.

The city of some 170,000 residents is celebrating with extraordinary vigor and there's a constant buzz in the international arts and literary scenes.

Arts oriented events, installations and performances are in the works for urban and rural communities. Symphonic concerts, photography exhibits and weekly dance, cinema, music and stage events are scheduled through 2019.

Performers mug for the cameras. The architecture and design constantly catch the eye. There’s something to see in every direction.

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IF Y�U GO San Miguel de Allende's colonial architecture and indigenous traditions combined with classy hotels, restaurants and galleries make it a popular weekend getaway from Mexico City and second home for more than 10,000 foreign born residents. Like Santa Fee in New Mexico and Todos Santos in Baja Sur, the city is a magnet for cultural travelers. Here are a few tips to get you started.

most. Low beds with padded leather headboards are dressed in smooth linens and cashmere throws and long white lacquered desks have all the right outlets and cables. Some rooms have luxurious freestanding tubs stocked with fragrant toiletries. Chairs are stylish and comfortable. It's the kind of room you hate to leave, even with San Miguel's charms right outside.

Sleep I've been hotel hopping around San Miguel a few times, and have yet to find a dud. As befits its artsy ambience, the city is loaded with sophisticated, design-driven hotels, posadas and inns. Rosewood has a posh hotel with an excellent restaurant, great pool and art concierges to guide guests through the hotel's impressive collection and provide info on local galleries. Rooms at the venerable, gracious Casa de Sierra Nevada are located in six handsomely restored mansions, some dating to the 16th century. Artsy B&Bs, posadas and rental properties abound.

No matter what type of lodging, you'll deal with some noise and congestion if you stay right around the JardĂ­n and Parroquia. There are plenty of places to stay along the surrounding streets. Be aware that some will be perched on steep streets. I've had the good fortune to stay with a dear friend in the San Antonio neighborhood, a 10minute walk from the center. It's a good base with plenty of interesting restaurants and shops and the prestigious Instituto Allende art and language school. The Guadalupe neighborhood is edgier, with vibrant murals on buildings and walls.

I'm particularly fond of Hotel Matilda, a blissfully comfortable, chic boutique hotel awarded Best City Hotel in Mexico in 2019 and 2017 by Travel + Leisure readers. Paintings, photographs and sculptures from Mexico's finest contemporary artists fill spare white spaces through the sleek complex. The restaurant, bar and spa are superb. But it's the comforting details in the graphite and white rooms that delight me the

Eat Food is a big part of the San Miguel experience. Its starts simply, with a scoop of corn or avocado ice cream from a sidewalk cart, and ends at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Parroquia. I've had great Japanese, Peruvian, Thai and Mexican meals at various spots around town. There are always a few contemporary restaurants worth checking out.

I'm a fan of breakfast at the Hotel Matilda's Moxi,

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where I can settle in with my maps and notes, sip fragrant coffee and thoroughly enjoy my berries or eggs (don't miss Moxi's Burrata en Salsa Verde at dinner). A morning break at San Augustín Chocolates y Churros sparks the energy level.

Rooftop venues are all the rage, understandably.

The views of the Parroquia and surrounding roofs are mesmerizing. I like stopping at La Posadita, a lowkey spot behind the church for a leisurely lunch of pozole and beer within the shadow of the spires. Dinner choices are endless, and I can't begin to know the latest hot spots. Spend at least one sunset on a rooftop—preferably at the Rosewood where the cocktails are fresh and delicious and the longrange view stunning. You'll find an endless list of dinner choices, and I encourage you to shop around. When you're itching for Mexican and American comfort food head to Hecho en Mexico by the Instituto Allende.

Wander The Parroquia's jagged spires serve as guideposts when you're climbing the steep streets around the historic center, which is often packed.

Tourism is booming these days, and driving in the Centro can be daunting. Walking is the best way to get around, but you must wear sensible shoes. Ankles twist easily on the bumpy streets. Dense laurel trees shade the Jardín, the central plaza and gathering spot for the city's diverse residents and guests. Intriguing businesses line the skinny sidewalks in the surrounding streets. You can spend days wandering the center and adjacent neighborhoods, checking out markets, fine art galleries and boutiques with designer clothing and folk art treasures. Serious walkers should pick up a copy of the Walking and

Shopping Guide at the tourist office by the Jardín.

American art students first started arriving by the hundreds to San Miguel de Allende in the 1940s, when World War II veterans studied art at the Instituto Allende and El Nigromante with funds from the GI Bill. San Miguel became so popular with vets Life Magazine published an article about this "GI Paradise" in 1948 and more foreigners arrived. Both institutions still educate a steady influx of national and international students. Photo and art workshops are held frequently throughout the city, and the literary community supports an annual writers conference.

Every travel site has a San Miguel de Allende guide, and "Bests" articles abound. You're sure to find something on your favorite sites. For local news check out the San Miguel Times sanmigueltimes.com and Atención San Miguel http://www.atencionsanmiguel.org/category/news/.

Start your visit at the Tourist Information Office in the Palacio Municipal by the Jardín for information and maps.

The Parroquia’s spires rise above the city. Opposite: Lunching on Pozole with all the fixings at La Posadita. Above: A marcher takes a break.

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NDING STORY & PHOTOGRAPHY

BY JOHN MUNCIE

I

think it happened the first or second morning on Kailua beach. I don’t remember exactly. But something changed when we were there. A reconnection; an elemental truth rediscovered.

But let’s start at the beginning.

Jody and I desperately needed a break from Japan. We were in the middle of a disaster last winter, an epic family crisis. The details will remain within the family, but not our solution: Escape for a week to Hawaii.

Between us, we’d explored the Big Island, watched the sunrise atop Haleakala in Maui, attended a wedding in Kauai. But neither one of us had ever been to Oahu, ever seen Diamond Head.

So when we landed at Honolulu we were strung out and wrung out but hopeful that a new adventure would ease our minds and soothe our battered souls, if only for seven days.

Before we checked into the Outrigger beach hotel, we stopped at a tourist shop. We had to get beach gear. Jody bought a pair of shorts and some bright pink surf-walking shoes and I got a blue Tshirt with the slogan: “Hawaii. . .It all starts with Aloha.”

We were ready for Waikiki.

Waikiki is crazy and crowded, a babbling brew of tourists and languages from all over. Las Vegas with banyan trees and surfers. Ambling down the main drag, Kalakaua St., we encountered Gucci, Hermes and every other high-end shop (our hotel was across the street from a Tesla dealer), bad street musicians, signs in Japanese, poke joints, and malls lined with palm trees and tiki torches, not to

Sunrise at Kailua Beach in Oahu.

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mention a bounty of butt cheeks and tattoos because. . .well, because everybody was walking around half naked.

We only stayed at the Outrigger for two nights but that was enough time to cram in the full Waikiki experience. We joined the sunset crowd on the beach (Waikiki is the land of the sunset selfie), caught the weekly free song and hula show at the outdoor stage by the statue of Duke Paoa Kahanamoku, the godfather or surfing, ate poke tacos at the Outrigger’s grill, and hiked to the top of Diamond Head.

The Diamond Head trek took us by aging Army bunkers and over ancient lava flows to those sweeping iconic views of Waikiki below and the rest of Honolulu beyond. And observation points so crowded you had to take turns.

So we were more than ready for some “ho’omaha” – that’s rest and relaxation in Hawaiian.

On day three we drove the sea-side route past Makapu’u point to the town of Kailua.

Honolulu has a metro population of nearly 1 million. Kailua doesn’t have a metro population. It’s got a Whole Foods and a few other outposts of civilization, but basically it’s a laid-back beach town, pop. 38,000.

We’d rented part of a house just three blocks from the ocean. There wasn’t a high-rise in sight, just lots of bougainvillea and mango trees. We dumped our bags and walked to the shore. Instead of Waikiki’s narrow crammed-up strip, there was a dramatic sweep of nearly empty sand stretching from Kapoho Point to Kailua Beach Park. Mild surf lapped the shore, the shallower bays and inlets shone a brilliant turquoise.

We looked at each other, grinning. And, because we’re both professional writers, we uttered the same brilliant descriptive insight at the same time. “Oh, wow!”

During our remaining time in Oahu, we mostly just hung out in Kailua and decompressed. Long stretches of silence and deep breaths. We walked on the beach in the morning and afternoon and ate dinners of salad and poké which the local Foodmart sold by the pound. We got massages and facials.

Every day was the same: 80 degrees high, 72 low. “This is our winter,” local real estate agent Kelly La’a told us. (Yes, we had to check out the housing market.) “It’s hot in the summer but with the ocean breezes there’s no need for air conditioning.” The calls of doves and roosters woke us up each morning; the sound of distant surf lulled us to sleep at night.

I can’t use the word “magical” to describe our

Waimea Falls deep in the Waimea Valley.

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time there, Jody and I spent years telling journalism students to never use such adjectives.

But it certainly was restorative. Which brings me to the point of this story. It’s called “grounding.”

“Grounding” is the semi-scientific, semimystical idea that the Earth is a massive reservoir of charged particles and that people need to circumvent most aspects of modern civilization – everything from rubber-soled shoes to electronics – and get back in touch with this trove of natural, healing, crucial ions.

In other words: go barefoot.

Barefoot. It’s a word that conjures up a host of childhood memories for both of us. Jody, the city kid, and me, the small town boy. “Every summer,” Jody recalls, “as soon as it was warm enough, we ditched our shoes and socks and ran around the streets of Philly barefoot. The goal was the same each year: to develop callouses thick enough that I didn’t need shoes by the end of summer.”

But for Jody, “grounding" is more than a time trip to childhood. She walks barefoot in the grass on our farm in Southwest Virginia because she says it makes her feel closer to her father who died 11 years ago. He was New Age before the term was even coined. And he “grounded” before it was even called that.

“He walked barefoot through the grass at Haverford College for years. What must the students have thought of that old man hobbling around with no shoes? But he didn’t care, he said it connected him to the Earth.”

For me it was barefoot wiffle ball games on the grass of the elementary school lawn and the feel of damp dirt between my toes as my sister and I jumped from furrow to furrow under moon light in the apricot orchard across the street.

I don’t know if we were getting a flow of unimpeded electrons or just good Earth vibes but those innocent barefoot memories are still strong. And so is the moment – it was exactly 7:11 a.m. – when, walking along Kailua beach, we saw the sun come up over the tiny Mokulua islets, just offshore.

Cool squishy sand between our toes, as the tide ebbed and the sun rose. Our troubles in Japan began to melt away, we were grounded in a glorious Hawaiian morning. Some kind of healing had begun. Things felt lighter. Maybe by connecting to the immensity of the Earth our troubles suddenly seemed smaller, more manageable. Anyway, it was another “Oh, wow!” moment.

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Surfer at Sunset Beach on the north shore of Oahu. Opposite: The Mokulua islets off Kailua Beach Park are backlit by the rising sun.

We only traveled once outside Kailua. One day we circumnavigated much of the island on the famous King Kamehameha Highway which follows the coast up to the northern town of Haleiwa then back down through the island’s pineapple plantation country It was an eventful trip. (Do I need to say the weather was perfect?) We made stops at tourist traps like the Tropical Farms Macademia Nut store and the massive Kualoa Ranch, where in 1992 they filmed some scenes for “Jurassic Park” and have been living off that notoriety ever since. Today the Ranch offers

backpack tours, horseback tours, mountain bike tours, bus tours, a zip line and every dinosaur souvenir imaginable. We took a quick look around and got right back on the road.

We explored the botanical gardens in the Waimea Valley and ate fried shrimp at a food truck near Kahuku. We visited the north shore surf meccas of Sunset Beach and the Pipeline, where one of the locals looked out over the surf line and told us: “The surf’s not too good today, the waves are too north, should be northwest.” I followed where he was

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pointing. The waves were at least three times bigger than anything I’d ever body-surfed or boogieboarded. Later we tried more fried shrimp at the Big Wave food truck in Haleiwa. (We worked up an appetite watching those waves.) Heading back in the late afternoon, some clouds boiled up over Dole country and we were treated to a rainbow imprinted sky.

That evening we walked out to Kailua beach again. Barefoot of course. Near us, a group of locals chatted in a circle of beach chairs. Further east a

couple of fishermen tried their luck in the low surf. A compact Asian guy practiced Tai Chi alone. A mom carried a baby while a toddler ran around bopping her with a balloon.

West was behind us so there was no sunset drama, just the soft fading of turquoise water and pinkish clouds.

OK, I’ll say it: “magical.”

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Los C Story & Photography by Alison DaRosa

I

f Cabo triggers memories of spring-break- wildchild rowdies guzzling tequila shooters at jampacked back-street bars, it’s time you re-visited. Los Cabos has long been Dos Cabos: High-octane party central at Cabo San Lucas on the tip of Baja and the tranquil old-Mexico colonial town of San Jose del Cabo to the northeast. These days, it’s the booming strip between the two towns that’ll blow you away.

This chic, sophisticated, often all-inclusive and ultra-luxe third Cabo has pushed the average daily room rate in Los Cabos to about $300 per night. “Since 2017, our hotel inventory has grown 31 percent,” said Rodrigo Esponda, director general of Los Cabos Tourism. “We now can offer 18,000 rooms – with another 2,500 under construction.

“Hotel occupancy is around 70 percent with that average daily rate at $300 per room,” he added. “What Los Cabos is offering is a luxury experience.” Esponda beams when he talks about the newest resort members of the Los Cabos family. There’s the recently opened Garza Blanca Resort & Spa, plus new Nobu and Hard Rock hotels. By the end of the year, Ritz Carlton, Four Seasons, Villa la Valenciaand Waldorf Astoria will be operating here. Park Hyatt and Aman resorts are planned for 2020. A St. Regis and a no-gaming Caesars Palace are due in early 2021.

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Cabos Honeymooners Allie and Clay Nyberg from Houston snuggle on the beachfront at Le Blanc Spa Resort Los Cabos. Relaxation is the area's prime attraction.

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Le Blanc Spa Resort Los Cabos is an adults-only allinclusive retreat with 373 rooms - including 161 honeymoon suites. Guests savor eight on-site restaurants and meticulous service.

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Los Cabos welcomes more than 3 million travelers a year; 40 percent of them are from California. Their prime reason for coming: relaxation. “About 7 percent come to fish and 4 percent to golf,” Esponda said. “We have 16 golf courses, plus four more in construction.”

But really it’s about easy, no-hassle R & R. Visitors want luxe comfort, unobtrusive first-class service and plenty of great food and drink – specifically fresh, high-quality local ingredients prepared with style and sophistication, but little noisy fuss. Many of the newest resorts offer it all – with an all-inclusive rate.

I spent a few days earlier this year, experiencing one such resort: the adults-only, allinclusive, ultra-luxury Le Blanc Spa Resort Los Cabos which opened last year, part of the 5-star Palace Resorts family. I was traveling solo, but opted for one of Le Blanc’s honeymoon suites.

There are 161 of them among the beachfront resort’s 373 rooms. My king-size bed was dressed in pristine-white 100-percent-cotton sheets; the deep soaking tub and the separate rain shower were stocked with Bvlgari products.

Other amenities included plush and summerlight robes, slippers, a Lavazza coffee maker, fresh fruit, a help-yourself snack bar, bottles of premium wine and tequila to enjoy in my room or take home, plus a mini fridge stocked with sodas, juices, beer and bottled water. Tucked away in a cabinet, I found a selection of premium liquor on tap: whiskey, rum and vodka. Everything was replenished daily.

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The room included a butler who offered additional bathing accessories: a selection of handcrafted aromatherapy soaps and bath salts. He also offered a choice of aromatherapy pillows for my bed – and yes, offered to unpack for me and draw my bath.

My spacious balcony overlooked the resort’s four outdoor pools, two swim-up bars and two outdoor hot tubs. My all-inclusive package included unlimited access to the 3,723-foot fitness center, free daily fitness classes plus unlimited use of hydrotherapy pools and tools at the resort’s 29,000-square-foot Blanc Spa, with 25 treatment rooms, the largest warren of bliss in all of Los Cabos.

Perhaps best of all, it included all meals at any of the eight restaurants on the property – ranging from Blanc Ocean, a beachfront restaurant featuring fresh, local Baja seafood, to Lumiere, a French-style fine-dining experience with a sevencourse tasting menu. If I wanted Italian fine dining, I could have gone to Blanc Italia; Blanc Asia offered ala carte Asian-style dinners.

Mezze, a Lebanese-inspired restaurant festooned with colorful hookahs, was popular at dinner. Most guests enjoyed breakfast at Blanc International, which offered an extraordinary buffet of cooked-toorder delights from 7 until 11 p.m. daily.

One of my favorite every day stops was Blanc Café, where I indulged in designer coffees and amazing dulce de leche croissants. One afternoon, I ordered a brick-oven pizza from Blanc Pizza to be delivered poolside. Room service was available 24 hours, but I indulged only once: perfect avocado toast and a fruit platter on the morning of my departure.

What to do besides eat, savor aromatherapy soaks and get on a first-name basis with Angel, the pool bartender?

Plenty.

Flora Farms is an organic oasis in the dusty foothills northeast of San Jose del Cabo. Hundreds of visitors gather here to shop for heirloom produce, enjoy farm-totable dining and sip organic cocktails.

There's a small spa and even a few designer shops on site.

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Most Le Blanc packages include a resort credit valid for extra treats: everything from treatments at the spa to off-property excursions. The hotel provided a driver and arranged a visit to San Jose del Cabo about 15 minutes from our hotel. Tuesday is Ladies Night in San Jose – with free or discounted drinks and eats for women. On Thursdays, November through June, starting at 5 p.m., there’s a popular Art Walk. On other days, pick up a galleries map and set out on your own walk. That’s what I did – and it was a colorful delight. (I found my map at the Patricia Mendoza Gallery, in the heart the art district.

Patricia knows everybody in San Jose and happily provides advice for those embarking on self-guided art tours. The art in her gallery is contemporary – and the cocktails at her adjacent snack bar make you glad you’re traveling with a designated driver. One artful cocktail starts with almond tequila and fiery green chiles; ask for the “Due de Chiles” margarita.)

My next stop was Flora Farms. It appeared like an oasis at the end of a dusty, winding unpaved road in the foothills of the Sierra de la Laguna Mountains northeast of downtown San Jose. The farm got its start in 1996 when Gloria and Patrick Greene from California’s Sonoma County started growing organic produce for their small San Jose del Cabo restaurant. Within five years, they were providing premium organic and heirloom vegetables for a slew of top local chefs; they moved their San Jose restaurant to the farm.

Today Flora Farms harvests more than 100 varieties of herbs and vegetables. It includes a nearby 150-acre ranch that produces poultry (and eggs) plus hormone- and antibiotic-free meats for its popular on-site grocery and Flora’s Field restaurant. Even the ice cream here is made in house, with ranch-produced cream, eggs and seasonal fruits.

Flora’s Field Restaurant offers the ultimate in farm-to-table dining. You’ll need a reservation; 600 were booked on the Wednesday evening in March when I visited. Seating is open-air, tucked away in nooks and alcoves – so there was no sense of a crowd. (Foodie alert: Executive Chef Guillermo Tellez is a graduate of the cooking school at Beringer Vineyards in the Napa Valley.)

Flora’s visitors can sign up for cooking and painting classes, farm tours, medicinal plant walks or even a massage at the small spa. They’ll also find a selection of boutique-style designer shops and a few cottages available for fractional ownership

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purchase “by invitation only”. I opted to cozy up at the Farm Bar with a “Carrot Farmarita,” Flora’s spin on the traditional margarita, made with the juice of just-picked farm carrots. It was art served in a saltrimmed Mason-style jar. I didn’t linger: I had a dinner date back at Le Blanc – not at one of its restaurants –but a special affair with visiting chefs representing Certified Angus Beef. Such events aren’t unusual at Le Blanc, I learned.

Guests dined under the stars on five different cuts of CAB (Certified Angus Beef) paired with five cabernet sauvignons. It was a prime experience.

One of the most interesting and delicious dishes of the evening was only peripherally related to beef: Served on a bed of risotto, garnished with a dollop of perfectly seared beef bone marrow, “escamol” is the edible larvae and pupae of ants harvested from the rootsof agave plants. For me, it was another exquisite Los Cabos surprise.

After dinner, I stopped for a nightcap at Blanc Stage, where there’s live music until 2 a.m. nightly. I ran into Allie and Clay Nyberg from Houston. They were doing their best to stretch the third night of their six-day honeymoon. I’d met the newlyweds the prior evening, snuggled on Le Blanc’s beach, holding hands, listening to the sounds of waves crashing. “It’s even more perfect than we expected, “ Allie said. “The service is phenomenal. The spa is amazing; we’ve been twice. We’ve been horseback riding and tomorrow we’re doing a sunset cruise.”

The last evening, they agreed, would be reserved for Los Cabos’ prime attraction: relaxation. They’d be back on the beach, holding hands, enveloped in the rhythmic sounds of the surf, pondering brand new memories that will last a lifetime.

IF YOU GO An all-inclusive stay for two at Le Blanc Spa Resort Los Cabos usually starts at about $500 per night, per person, based on double occupancy.

Discounted packages, which often include a generous resort credit, may be available online.

Goto to www.leblancsparesorts.com/loscabos/en/offers . Before you buy, comparison shop at www.costcotravel.com , which sometimes offers value pricing on Le Blanc packages that include airfare.

Find out more about Flora Farms and book classes, tours and restaurant reservations there at www.flora-farms.com .

Learn more about Los Cabos at www.visitloscabos.travel.

The weekly Thursday evening Art Walk in San Jose del Cabo's Gallery District gives visitors a chance to meet the region's premier artists at work in top local galleries.

They'll find a broad range of work - including local artisan/vendors creating traditional regional crafts.

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Oregon’s Rogue River a fun, family friendly Wild a

A team from Northwest Rafting runs the Fish Ladder route of Rainie Falls on the Rogue River.

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and Scenic stream STORY & PHOTOGRAPHY

BY BRIAN CLARK

W

ith its soothing siren call, the Rogue River draws me back every few years to kayak its frolicking rapids, revel in it verdant canyons, hike up its side creeks and sleep on its welcoming beaches.

I’m not alone in treasuring this delightful, family friendly whitewater stream in the southwest corner of Oregon, which flows 215 miles from its headwaters near Crater Lake National Park through the Cascade Mountains on its way to the Pacific Ocean.

Designated as one of the eight original Wild and Scenic rivers in the United States in 1968, roughly 80 miles in the lower section are protected from dambuilding, diversion or other kinds of development.

Additional streams in that seminal group include the Clearwater and Salmon rivers in Idaho and the Feather in northern California.

Thousands of people enjoy the Rogue each year for salmon and steelhead fishing, whitewater rafting and hiking, to say nothing of its rugged scenery.

Western adventure writer and novelist Zane Grey came here to fish in the 1920s and built a modest cabin on a stretch of the lower river that remains today. He extolled the Rogue in magazine articles that boosted its standing among anglers. He also penned the novel “Rogue River Feud” from his time on the stream that dealt with conflicts between gold seekers, salmon anglers and a fish-packing monopoly.

There was, of course, a love angle between a wounded WWI veteran and the daughter of a fisherman.

I’ve done some angling in my time - and even caught a treasured steelhead - but it’s the tumbling rapids of the Rogue that drew me here more than 40 years to kayak as part of a University of California, Davis outdoor program. That was the start of a decades-long love affair with Western whitewater. I also fell, hard, for a fair-haired cross-country ski instructor on that first trip, which, perhaps, has something to do with my enduring affection for the river. Alas, the relationship - passionate while it lasted - didn’t endure. But I was hooked on the Rogue and have been back half-a-dozen times since then to kayak - and reminisce.

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Eight years ago, after my oldest son, Matt, finished his studies at the Evergreen State College in Olympia, Wa. with a degree in recording arts, we decamped for the Rogue and some father-son bonding within an hour after his graduation ceremony.

Once on the river, an osprey circled overhead as we pushed off into the current, which I took as a good omen. Soon we were drifting down the Rogue through rugged terrain that once was home to the Coquille and other Native American tribes - who called the stream “Takelam” - before bloody conflicts with miners, settlers and their militias led to their forced removal to reservations..

Pine trees and shrubs climbed the sides of the canyon, offering a range of light to deep-green hues.

Here and there were splashes of red and earthy orange in the form of madrone trees, a bigger version of the manzanita bush.

At one point, several great blue herons, looking to me like something from the Jurassic age, flew back and forth across the river, much to our delight. And in a calm eddy, a six-pack of Western pond turtles basked on a tree branch, oblivious to our presence.

Matt and I shared a tent on that three-night, fourday trip and I got used to his occasional snores. (And he mine, I assume.) But the last evening, with millions of stars filling the sky above us, we slept on the beach only a few feet from the river, sans tents. In the morning, as the sunrise reached the rim of the canyon and began to illuminate our campsite, I watched him snooze and smiled at my good fortune as I sipped coffee that had been prepared by guides from the OARS (oars.com) rafting outfitter. That, indeed, was a special trip.

Last summer, I got the opportunity to paddle the Rogue again. This time around I went with my old paddling buddy, “Moth” Lorenzen - who has accompanied me on numerous kayaking adventures on the West Coast, Central and South America - and

his 13-year-old son, Joe. A fun-loving lad, he’s a chip off the ol’ block.

They live in San Francisco and sail frequently for much of their aquatic recreation these days. The pair picked me up at the Sacramento airport - I’d flown in from my home in Madison, WI - and we drove north through smoke from forest fires on the CaliforniaOregon border. We spent the night at the Galice Resort, listened to a band playing music from the Grateful Dead and the Eagles and dined on barbecued chicken and salad on a deck overlooking the gurgling Rogue.

We met up with with guides from Hood Riverbased Northwest Rafting (nwrafting.com) after a breakfast of French toast the next morning and were on our way, headed for the put-in below Grave Creek at the entrance to the roadless area.

We’d been worried that the fires might prevent our trip, but they thankfully stayed to the south.

Soon, Moth and I were practicing Eskimo rolls in our hard-shelled kayaks, while Joe became comfortable in his inflatable kayak. It wasn’t long before we came upon Grave Creek Falls, a class 3 (moderately difficult) rapid that knocked us about a bit, though we all stayed upright - including Joe. A bald eagle floated in the sky above us, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was kin to any of the other birds I’d encountered on previous trips. Nearby, a pair of otters swam in the river and a family of mergansers paddled in an eddy. The canyon, just as I recalled, was loaded with wildlife.

Abut five miles from the put-in came the notorious Rainie Falls, a Class V - very difficult and dangerous - rapid that is the most-feared drop on the Rogue. Which is why we pulled over to scout it and ponder the consequences of getting stuck in the reversal at the bottom of the rapid on the left side of the river. It didn’t take long to decide that running the Class III “fish ladder” on the right side of the stream was the most prudent and sensible way to go.

Top: Rafters camp at a sandy beach near the end of a four-day trip on Rogue River with the Hood River, Oregonbased NW Rafting Co. Left: A gaggle of photographers watch a crew from Northwest Rafting run Rainie Falls on the Rogue River. Above: Rafters hike to the Rogue River Ranch, a lovely site on the banks of the Rogue River that was homesteaded in the late 1800s.

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A pair of rafters sizes up Rainie Falls on the Rogue River. They decided to run it far right and avoid the main falls. Opposite: A mother merganser ( a kind of fish-eating duck) and her brood of a dozen ducklings paddle in an eddy on the Rogue River in southwest Oregon.

I’d run the 15-foot falls years ago, back before I had children, other responsibilities and when I possessed a higher skill level. And maybe I’ll try it again one day - after my youngest son is off in college - but I kinda doubt it.

Zachary Collier, who runs Northwest Rafting, said he, too, has walked around Rainie. (He’s also run it, too.) He said he’s seen plenty of other kayakers and rafters take it on and never seen anyone get stuck in the reversal at the bottom of the falls.

Trashed, recirculated and then regurgitated downstream, yes. But kept in the hole, thankfully, never.

“I give a talk at the beginning of the trip about the difference Class 3, 4 and 5 rapids,” he said.

“Rainie is a great illustration of them all with the main drop being a 5, the middle chute a 4 and the fish

ladder a 3.”

There were other class 2 and 3 rapids that day with names like China Gulch, Tyee and Wildcat, but the best part was a hike up Whiskey Creek to see a gold miner’s cabin. Maintained by rangers from the federal Bureau of Land Management (BLM), the redoubt has bottles, cans, household utensils and mining gear left behind many decades ago.

We camped that night and had a delicious salmon dinner prepared by our guides as we sipped wine and other libations while playing an old Viking game called “kubb,” which has gained popularity in recent years. Something of a cross between bowling and horseshoes, the objective is to knock over wooden blocks by tossing wooden batons at them. (I won.)

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A highlight of the second day was another hike, this one up the narrow and crystal-clear Kelsey Creek, which cut deep into a the steep and forested canyon wall. What I liked best, however, was stopping at Winkle Bar and walking up to Zane Grey’s cabin sites, which includes a boat from his days on the river.

Due, in part, to his stories, the Rogue eventually became too popular and over-fished for his liking. So he moved on the Umpqua River, which was more isolated.

Day three included a stroll up to the historic Rogue River Ranch, a wide spot in the river valley where archaeological evidence shows Native Americans lived for more than 9,000 years. Tom Billings and his family homesteaded there at the turn of the 20th Century and built a two-story story house

in 1903 that served as an inn and a store, as well as a home. It was beautifully renovated recently by BLM. Mule Creek tumbles into the Rogue beside the ranch and we hiked up that stream to a large rock where we took turns jumping off a 10-foot ledge into the chilly, clear waters below. After we returned to the main river, we soon encountered Mule Creek Canyon - a relatively narrow slot where the Rogue slices along a fault between two geologic formations on the river.

Collier calls this section of the Rogue his favorite.

“If you look to your left, you’ll see basalt and sandstone pillows, twists, and slants that make up make the Dothan Formation,” he said. “Looking to your right, you’ll the see dark grey and green bulges

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of ocean crust and volcanic sheets of the Rogue Formation. Over time, the river helped carve a narrow path between these two jagged formations, causing water to accelerate and bounce irregularly through the smaller, rougher, space.”

The river becomes faster here and more unpredictable with large waves, contrasting currents, boils, and sometimes combinations of all three. The “crown jewel,” as Collier calls it, is the “Coffee Pot,” a lower section where the river narrows even further, the water becomes confused swirls and navigating a big raft can be difficult.

In a kayak, I found it hard sometimes to keep my little vessel upright because the surging boils seemed to have fingers that wanted to grab the edge of my boat and flip me over. Fortunately, I stayed upright, because doing a roll in those surging waters would have been difficult.

If that weren’t enough excitement, downstream a bit we came to Blossom Bar Rapid, which we scouted from some high rocks on the right side of the river. Named for the Western Azalea plant, Collier said this Class 4 drop is sometimes called “the most expensive rapid in the West” because of a picket fence of rocks partway through that sometimes traps, holds and flips rafts.

My group breezed through it on our trip with no mishaps and I found it relatively simple to negotiate in my kayak. Collier said it gets the Class 4 rating because of the penalty for not making the Class 3 move above the picket fence.

“The consequences can be significant,” he said.

That afternoon I took a walk along the river and up the slopes above our campsite and found lovely yellow Oregon irises, bright red Indian paintbrushes, golden buttercups, fiery columbines, blue chicory and other flowers.

Moth gave his son Joe a hard-shell kayak paddling lesson and I have a feeling they’ll return to the Rogue one day to paddle it together. I know I’ll be back, too, with my two youngest children, now ages 16 and 18.

Who knows, if I can stay spry for another couple of decades, I might even get back on the Rogue with a grandchild or two?

More information: A number of rafting outfitters operate on the Rogue River, offering trips into October.

Two I know well and respect are Northwest Rafting at nwrafting.com and OARS at oars.com. Three-night, fourday trips start at around $1,000, while specialty outings cost more. The minimum age for most trips is 7. For names of other companies, contact the BLM office in Galice, Ore. at (541) 474-3735.

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NW Rafting’s Kristen Bryson cooks up some steaks on a Rogue River trip last summer with the help of fellow guides Peter Tooley and Aaron Gehlhausen. Below: Kayaker “Moth” Lorenzen, left and his 13-year-old son, Joe, check out a fishing cabin built by famed Western author Zane Grey in the 1920s on the banks of the Rogue River.

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NORWAY NOR

FANTASTIC FJORDS, HISTORIC VILLAGES & SCRUMPTIOUS SEAFOOD

Story & Photography Priscilla Lister

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icture a dark blue crystalline sea that winds through narrow passages flanked by virtually vertical rocky cliffs rising some 4,000 feet high, where isolated, historic wooden farmhouses dot leafgreen meadows.

Imagine a small coastal island city where almost all of its central buildings date around 1905 when they were designed in a charming Art Nouveau style.

Place yourself in a hip boutique hotel in an area that once hanged thieves but today is alive with nightlife and just a short walk to the magnificent building that bestows the Nobel Peace Prize.

Every photograph or description you’ve seen about Norway is pale in comparison to the breathtaking beauty of its real wonders.

That’s what we thought after an eight-day visit simply whetted our appetite for more. We may have stuffed ourselves with the finest seafood available anywhere, but we will never have enough time to explore that northern marvel.

It was sunny and warm -- in the 70s and 80s -every day we were there in early August, too. But even in winter, the three cities we explored are not as cold as you might think, since the Gulf Stream keeps them remarkably temperate: Average daytime temperatures in Oslo in January are around 25 degrees Fahrenheit, with Alesund and Bergen typically about 10 degrees warmer.

“There is no bad weather here, only bad clothing,” Inger Carter, our guide in Bergen, told us.

We landed in Oslo and based ourselves at The

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Whimsy lives on Geirangerfjord. Channel your inner Viking.

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Thief, a bespoke hotel that opened in 2013 in an area called Tjuvholmen, or Thieves’ Island, a former wharf area that has been transformed in the last 15 years, especially since 2012’s opening of the Astrup Fearnley Museet, a modern art museum designed by Renzo Piano.

The hopping area’s hippest hotel, The Thief is a cutting-edge getaway rendered by top Norwegian designers that sits on a canal on the waterfront; guests in the enclave have included Rihanna, Diana Krall and Elvis Costello.

“Oslo is tiny; you can walk everywhere,” said Hilary Sem, a licensed Oslo guide with Guideservice, whom we hired to show us around.

Within a five-minute stroll from The Thief, we were touring City Hall, the classic building constructed between 1930 and 1950 where every element is Norwegian, from the marble and wood to the wooden carvings of Norwegian legends outside and the monumental oil murals depicting Norwegian history inside, where the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony is held every year on Dec. 10.

We wandered a few blocks to the National Gallery which has a fine collection of paintings by Edvard Munch (“The Scream”), as well as Monet and Cezanne.

We walked up tony Karl Johan avenue, Oslo’s main street filled with shops and grand historic hotels, like The Grand, where playwright Henrik Ibsen lunched everyday.

At the end of Karl Johan is the Royal Palace.

And we wandered over to the spectacularly stunning Opera House designed by Snøhetta, the firm that also designed Ground Zero in New York and the library in Alexandria, Egypt.

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The magnificent Opera House is covered in Carrara marble with a roof that is also a slanted walking platform. “The architects wanted it to look like an iceberg,” said Sem. We dined at the reborn historic Ekeberg Restaurant high above the city where views take in all its seacoast glory, where the charming maitre’d Robert Berggren told us, “everything you need lies within 20 minutes of Oslo: beaches for bathing, small islands for camping, Olympic ski resorts.”

We raved about the seafood delicacies we enjoyed at Tjuvholmen Sjømagasin, two blocks from The Thief, declaring it among our best dining experiences anywhere. This canal-side restaurant is all about seafood, even including its fresh fish market. Mosts of its dishes are are cooked on a charcoal grill, “which is why they taste so heavenly,” notes the restaurant. Wine pairings here are equally delectable.

Heading to Alesund, we departed from Oslo Central Station on the Dovre Railway to Dombas, climbing craggy mountains that seemed to be filled with myths and trolls. We then transferred to the Rauma Railway that follows the emerald-green River Rauma through spectacular mountain scenery, arriving at Andalsnes for a two-hour bus ride to Alesund.

If you must choose just one place to spend time in Norway, make it Alesund. Literally one of the most picturesque coastal villages I’ve ever seen, Alesund lies on an island where a huge tragedy turned into an opportunity.

“We probably have the biggest concentration of Art Nouveau buildings in the world,” Bente Saxon, our guide from Destination Alesund, told us. The reason: a devastating fire on January 23, 1904, “erupted in a sea of flames that destroyed the entire city -- some 850 buildings -- in 15 hours, leaving 10,000 people homeless.”

“Alesund’s great fortune was the fire

A view of the Art Nouveau gem, Alesund, from high above at Aksla (the shoulder), a viewpoint reached by a 418-step hike uphill.

Right: The facade of the fascinating City Hall in Oslo where every element is Norwegian. The Nobel Peace Prize is bestowed here every Dec. 10.

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coincided with a depression in Norway so costs for labor and materials were low,” she said. Norway’s finest architects and master craftsmen of the day came for the work and recreated the town in that era’s new style of Art Nouveau, which celebrated curves and arches with simple adornments fashioned after organic elements in nature, especially trees and flowers.

We simply wandered all over Alesund, a town of 55,000, from the town park of Aksla (the shoulder), a 418-step hike uphill for a panoramic birds-eye view of the entire coastal village, to Alesund Church from 1909 with its peaceful graveyard, to the Art Nouveau Center in the historic Swan Pharmacy, to The Fisheries Museum on the harbor, one of the few buildings that escaped the fire, dating from 1861 and

sharing the history of Alesund as Norway’s -- and the world’s -- major exporter of salt cod.

We walked from our comfortable hotel, Quality Hotel Waterfront, to Sjøbua, a cozily atmospheric restaurant in an old wharf-side warehouse where we enjoyed excellent fresh seafood with fine wines.

Chef/owner Ove Fjortfoft restored this old fish warehouse in 1987 into a charming, wooden-beamed fish-centric restaurant lighted by candles that has justly becomes a locals’ favorite. His baked lobster soup is beloved.

We strolled along Kongens Gate (Kings Road), a cobblestoned street that is mostly closed to vehicle traffic where those lovely Art Nouveau buildings are home to shops and restaurants that spill outside in

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The cobblestoned streets of Alesund call for strolling among this gem of Art Nouveau architecture.

Opposite: Reflections of Alesund, an Art Nouveau gem in Norway that is truly captivating for its historic architecture.

Left: Grab a “real hot chocolate” at Geiranger’s chocolate shop.

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summer. Lunching at Lyst restaurant, we feasted on enormous plates of fresh boiled shrimp in garlic and butter with white bread and mayonnaise, just like Alesunders like them.

Just a few miles from Alesund’s city center is Sunnmøre Museum, a collection of old houses and boats that show what life was like in the 1800s. These fascinating wooden homes are covered with sod roofs, complete with green grass and wildflowers growing on them. “They used to put goats on them,” Bente told us.

Then we took a trip to the fjords on The Fjord Experience by 62º NORD Cruises that disembarked from the center of Alesund.

This land of fjords — a Norwegian word that has entered the international lexicon — is a waterscape like no other. There are so many of these watery passageways that Norway’s coastline measures some 63,000 miles compared with its north-south distance of only 1,100 miles. These narrow inlets were created by ancient ice masses that carved out deep valleys with steep rock walls, then melted to let them fill with the sea.

Two of Norway’s fjords, Naeroyfjord and Geirangerfjord, have been named World Heritage Sites by UNESCO, simply because they are so spectacularly beautiful, “among the most scenically outstanding fjords areas on the planet,” according to UNESCO. The Fjord Experience by 62º NORD Cruises combined boats and buses to take us to Geirangerfjord. Characterized by those narrow and steep rock walls, punctuated by many waterfalls cascading through deciduous and coniferous forests, the boat cruise to Geirangerfjord was jaw-dropping gorgeous.

Atop these seaside cliffs lie seemingly improbable old farms, attesting to a way of life now long gone. On some of these verdant farms, perched on vertical cliffs that fall thousands of feet to the sea, “they’d have to

The cruise along Geirangerfjord is utterly gorgeous, passing by little seaside villages backdropped by moutainous cliffs dotted with waterfalls. Right: Freshly boiled shrimp with white bread at Lyst in Alesund; finger bowls with lemon end this feast cleanly.

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A funicular takes you high above Bergen for a glorious birds-eye view.

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tether their children” to keep them from falling off, the cruise guide told us.

The tiny town of Geiranger is a hiker’s paradise, where a literal zig-zag road is one of only two into town. Small cruise ships arrive in summer. This charming coastal village features tiny wooden buildings with roofs covered in green grass and wildflowers.

At Geiranger Skjolade, a chocolatier in the small village, owner Bengt Dahlberg told us that “Norwegians may be reserved, but when you see them in nature, they light up and talk more.” People are downright chatty in gorgeous Geiranger.

We had one of our best meals at the small Brasserie Posten on the water in Geiranger in the old post office, where the chef prides himself on procuring local produce for the popular restaurant. It also carries more than 50 varieties of Norwegian beer from 15 different microbreweries.

Tearing ourselves away from Alesund, we ventured to Bergen, the largest city in Norway until the 1830s and a major European trading port, where the colorful harborside wooden buildings of Bryggen, a World Heritage Site, house the Fish Market, the Bryggens Museum, and lots of outdoor cafes and indoor shops. We rode the Funicular for its seven-minute climb up to Mount Floyen for a sweeping view of the city, and gaped at the sterling silver collections in the decorative arts wing of the four Art Museums of Bergen right downtown.

And we had a two-hour private tour from Carter, a guide with Bergen by Expert.

You can also take fjord cruises and trains from Bergen, but we found the very popular “Norway in a Nutshell” one annoyingly over-crowded. The Geraingerfjord experience was far finer, we thought.

And now all we want is more time in the breathtakingly beautiful land of the midnight sun and northern lights.

IF YOU GO http://www.visitnorway.com/us/ http://www.visitoslo.com/en/ http://www.guideservice.no/ http://thethief.com/en http://www.nsb.no/DovreRailway/ http://www.nsb.no/RaumaRailway/ http://www.visitalesund-geiranger.com/en http://www.visitbergen.com/en http://www.bergenbyexpert.no/indexeng.html

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NORWAY INANUTSHELL STORY & PHOTOGRAPHY BY CARL LARSEN

They always say "save the best for last."

And that's what I, a dedicated train lover, did when my wife, Sharon, and I finally had a chance to take off on another one of my bucket-list adventures through the heart of Norway.

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I've dragged Sharon along with me to experience any number of unique train rides, including the Indian Pacific on its three-day journey across the harsh Australian Outback, or a poetry slam aboard Canada's Rocky Mountaineer at treetop level, and even on Amtrak, where every ride can be an adventure. That's not to mention assorted steam-train excursions throughout the United Kingdom and the fastdisappearing overnight sleeper trains in Europe.

But those adventures were just warm-ups for a bracing travel marathon that in one long day brought together a hair-raising bus ride, a cruise gliding past carved mountains rising above two fjords--and the main event, for me, a railway so bold in its creation that it's celebrated as a global engineering feat.

Others will tell you that we were in Norway to board a September cruise across the Atlantic to Montreal, leaving from Bergen on the country's west coast.

But the real reason, told to no one, is that our cruise plans finally gave me the opportunity to embark upon the popular Norway in a Nutshell tour, a self-guided day-long trip taken each year by thousands. Up to now, this had been an impossible dream.

In a nutshell, then -- there's no hand-holding here, no tour director on a microphone saying "On your left...�

Instead, you're given a booklet and tickets for a coordinated train, bus, boat journey that can start either in Oslo, the capital, or Bergen, where we were based.

Variations of this trip, including overnight stays also can be booked, but our journey -- the basic version -- cost us $200 each. (Eurail passengers get a discount).

That may sound like a lot of money, but as one TripAdvisor contributor wrote: "The trip is a must if you are in Norway. It's a long day but well worth the trip."

And travel guru Rick Steves rates this as one of his top experiences. But why wouldn't he? He claims a Norwegian-American heritage.

The excursion is available all year, with July and August being the most popular months. The morning departure was full of tourists like us, so we decided for the afternoon departure that left Bergen at 12:57, with considerably fewer travelers.

Our spectacular journey would last about 10 hours, starting from Bergen's convenient train station on a local train to Voss. One important tip is to pack snacks, sandwiches and drinks before you board the train because the prices will skyrocket and there often isn't time to stock up along the way.

The 80-minute train ride took us up from sea level into rugged mountain country. Finding other "nutshellers" aboard, at the Voss station we trooped

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about 800 feet to a connecting bus, marked "950 Gudvangen -- Norway in a Nutshell. " That's where the fun began. For the first few minutes of the hour trip this was an ordinary bus ride, picking up and dropping off passengers with a few scenic waterfalls thrown in along the way. Then we stopped at a mountain resort before things went downhill. Sharply downhill. The bus then navigated through a series of hairpin curves in a forest as passengers tried to get photos from the side-view windows. In the distance we could see our destination, the end of a lengthy fjord at the town of Gudvangen.

At the small town waiting a few yards away was our cruise boat.

No time to take many photos because it quickly departed after the bus arrived. Aboard there was a bar selling drinks and snacks as well as toilet facilities. Just a few of us were aboard to enjoy the two-hour cruise. I thought back to the mob of travelers I had seen earlier in the day.

Then it was time to watch the panorama unfold, at a leisurely pace that made the nearly empty boat seem like a personal charter. The smooth-as-silk waters of the Naeraoyfjord were plied by our craft between sharp, steep mountain cliffs. No wonder this is part of UNESCO World Heritage Site. In a while we transitioned into the wider Aurlandsfjord, and the scenery flattened out a bit. We passed small towns with homes painted in the distinctive red and yellow popular throughout Norway. Here and there, there'd be a few folks to wave at us.

Both these fjords are arms of Norway's famous Sognefjord, which penetrates the country for 120 miles while slicing through mountain ranges toward its outlet on the Atlantic Ocean. To prove that, suddenly we came upon real ocean-going cruise ships, making their way up the fjord, like us, toward Flam. They were close enough to for us to see passengers enjoying their happy-hour drinks from observation decks.

As we passed by, Sharon and I wondered how much the cruise passengers had paid to get the same spectacular views we were afforded on our one-day trip. When we tired of taking photos of the scenery, it was time to contemplate the geologic forces that shaped this part of the world, and to enjoy the seeming solitude, with none of the noise usually associated with civilization.

Then, as quickly as it began, the cruise was over. We had reached Flam, the tourist-focused town that is the start of many fjord excursions besides ours, and which has a good supply of lodgings as well as tourist infrastructure.

It was late in the afternoon now, just enough time to

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walk through the souvenir shop and outside to see the train museum before boarding the Flamsbana, one of the great railway rides in the world, ranked third among Norway's tourist attractions. It's only 13 miles long -- but wait until you see the terrain covered in that ride.

Boarding an older coach, again with few aboard, our electric-powered train began to climb on tracks carved out of the mountains. This is the steepest standard-gauge railway in Europe, with a maximum gradient of 5.5 percent.

And the screeching wheels let us know that. We would climb from sea level to 2,833 feet on the twisty route. Along the way are 20 tunnels, the longest at 4,400 feet, and a horseshoe curve. Toward the top of the line are snow sheds that keep the drifts away from the tracks in winter.

While all that engineering work may sound impressive, the highlight of the trip was a five-minute stop at the edge of the Kjosfossen waterfall, where a platform overlooks the thunderous torrent. Selfie-takers watch out!

Slowly, the train then worked its way up to Myrdal, the top of the line, where it joins the Bergen-Oslo railway, another feat of engineering. From there, "nutshellers" make a connection with trains either back to Oslo or west to Bergen.

With the final tickets in hand, we waited just under an hour for our train back to Bergen, leaving Myrdal on the two-hour trip at 8:25 p.m.

That was enough time to look through our photos and remark on the journey we'd just taken. Others take expensive cruises just to see this portion of the world. We had sampled much of what those folks see. And, with time a precious commodity, we were able to make the trip in a long, memorable day.

Indeed, I had "saved the best for last." But the good thing about bucket lists is that you can always add one more adventure.

That is, until time runs out.

IF YOU GO Many variations are available, including overnight excursions exploring the fjord country. The basic trip can be taken daily from either Oslo or Bergen. Check on weather conditions. Limited food offered along the way; pack your own. Norwaynutshell.com Hotels: Bergen: Grand Hotel Terminus (next to train station); Radisson Blu Royal Hotel (on the waterfront) Oslo: Thon Hotel Opera (next to the central train station); Radisson Blu Oslo Gardemon (no cab or bus needed to this airport hotel that is a quick walk from the terminal.

Frequent rail to Oslo Central station)

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EATINGBERG AN AWESOME INSIDER FOO STORY BY RON JAMES & MARY JAMES | PHOTOGRAPHY BY RON JAMES

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ho knew the Norwegian city of Bergen would make our favorite city list? It was completely off our travelers’ radar until we befriended Bergen natives Knut and Johanna Kristiansen on a cruise through the Suez Canal a few years back. They extolled the virtues of their hometown with an enthusiasm that piqued

our interest. We promised to visit and stayed in touch.

Two years later we finally made it, as our cruise ship pulled into Bergen’s beautiful bay. Knut and Johanna met us at the dock for a day of adventure and discovery. We had no idea what they had in store - but we knew we couldn’t have better tour guides. And boy, were we right.

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GEN OD TOUR

We all toted umbrellas but never unfurled them as Bergen treated us to a perfect day for walking beneath sunny blue skies. From the start, there was no denying the postcard-perfect beauty of this city, rich with history, monuments, and gardens. Founded in 1070, Bergen is home to some 330,000 lucky and proud citizens, including more than 30,000 students.

Large by Norwegian standards, it still exudes a charming village ambiance, with an added youthful vibe that comes with being a university town. Many times as we moved through the city Knut and Johanna greeted long-time friends - they seemed to know everyone in town.

Not surprisingly, Begen’s foundations date to the

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Viking Age. But it wasn’t until the city became a key player in the historic Hanseatic League that it began to flourish. For several hundred years, it was a prosperous center of trade between Norway and Europe. The iconic “Hanseatic Wharf” is the most prominent remnant from this time, and now houses many restaurants, pubs, gift shops, and historical museums.

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For most of its history, Bergen’s economy depended on fishing until the discovery of oil made Norway an economic powerhouse. The government wisely invested in its citizens through healthcare, education, and infrastructure. Now tourism is a major industry, fueled by inexpensive flights from America and Europe. It’s also a favorite stop for several cruise ship lines -- there were two in port during our visit, swelling the population of the city for the day with over 6,000 passengers and crew.

Regardless of how you arrive in Bergen, a must stop - and our first foodie destination - is the world-famous Fish Market. A civic gathering place since the 1200s, the old market is part of the harbor district with its rows of semipermanent stands selling fresh seafood, tinned fish and meats, local farm-fresh produce, and flowers and plants. Interspersed between the fish and fruit stands are small eateries offering a variety of fish and seafood dishes. The outdoor market opens in May and runs throughout the summer months.

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Just a few yards away is the newish community-owned indoor fish market, Mathallen, that is open throughout the year. The large complex is filled with brightly lit seafood markets, shops, and restaurants with views of fishing boats, the town and historic Hanseatic buildings across the bay.

Knut made the rounds greeting his fishmonger friends before leading us to a table at. Fjellskaal Seafood Market, a family-owned market and restaurant complex with several aquariums filled with fish and shellfish of all sizes and shapes. There also was a dazzling array of fresh fish, shellfish, smoked fish and caviars beautifully displayed under glass counters. We chatted with the genial proprietor, Dan Even Fjellskaal, and discovered that his company supplied many of the cruise ships that dock at the port, including ours.

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We expected a little sample of smoked fish or a cup of chowder, but our tasting was an overflowing platter of just about everything fresh we saw in the market. This was heaven for seafood lovers like us. The plentiful shrimp were sweet and firm; so was the crab inside giant claws. Our friendly server added a delightful sauvignon blanc to wash it all down.

Not a bad start to our tour and introduction to this marvelous city.

Before our next food foray, Knut wisely scheduled a little exercise that would take us to the top of Mount Fløyen, 320 meters above the town. It turned out to be a short walk from the fish market to another of Bergen’s most popular attractions, the Fløibanen funicular that, in six minutes would take us to the top of the mountain. Knut had pre-purchased tickets, so we didn’t have to stand in the funicular’s formidable lines.

Once at the top, we enjoyed the magnificent view of Bergen, the surrounding fjords, and the harbor with our cruise ship that dwarfed most of the buildings in town. A few steps from the funicular stop is a complex of shops, an ice cream parlor, and a large dining hall with a popular coffee bar. There, after introducing us to the owner, Knut ordered popular Bergen pastries and cappuccinos for all of us. He explained that locals view their

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favorite café as a second living room where they visit with friends and family over cups of coffee or tea.

Before leaving, we took a short walk in the woods that began near a large children’s playground filled with laughing pink-cheeked youngsters. Many likely had walked up the steep mountain with their parents, who were also enjoying an outing on a sunny day. We walked on into a magical forest where it’s said witches prowl.

By the time we headed back to town, we were working up an appetite for another dining adventure.

But first, we stopped at the fascinating Hanseatic Museum that illustrated how Hanseatic merchants lived and traded in Bergen for 400 years. We could have spent a full day here, but we had an appointment with more real Norwegian food.

To our delight, our next and final culinary destination was inside one of the historic Hanseatic warehouses that flank the Quay. This ancient district is a big part of why Bergen is a Unesco World Heritage Center. No city anywhere can boast even one Hanseatic period wooden house,

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yet Bergen managed to preserve more than 62 of the intricately constructed buildings.

We entered one of the main buildings next to the quay; above the entrance was the sign of the unicorn. One floor up and we arrived at The Unicorn or in Norwegian, the Enhjørningen restaurant, famous among the locals for excellent traditionally prepared fish, shellfish and some sea oddities - at least to Americans. Owner Øyvind Thorsen graciously joined us for a very tasty traditional light meal featuring perfectly cooked melt-in-your-mouth scallops and Swedish caviar served with chopped onion, toast, and sour cream.

Our other dish was a plate of smoked Hval or whale carpaccio. Again a nice light sauvignon blanc was a perfect pairing.

As dusk was falling, our perfect Bergen day came to an end. Johanna and Knut walked us back to the dock area where we said our goodbyes, knowing we would one day see them again. Perhaps our next gathering would be in our city of San Diego where we would share the best spots for fish tacos.

It wouldn’t be the same as our wonderful culinary journey on this day; eating Bergen would be a tough act to follow.

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