Wandering North

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Greece

Athenian Odyssey – Day 3 of 3

My third day in Athens after my excellent visit to the Acropolis, was kind of a freebie. I had already done all the things that were most important to me in visiting the city, so I decided to improvise day three. I had breakfast at my hostel and then I went out walking. I visited a flea market. I’m not sure if it was the Monastiraki flea market or someplace else, but it was fun to look around. I like free markets in foreign cities; they feel like impromptu, free museums.

Morning Stuff

I stopped and had a coffee on the edge of the flea market. I decided to try a ‘frappé’; this is a Greek coffee made with instant coffee whisked together with cold water and sugar to make sort of a frothy cold coffee drink. I’m glad I tried it, but I don’t need to have it again. I don’t like cold coffee or sugar in my coffee so it wasn’t really for me and I knew that going in. It looked pretty though.

The Plaka

I decided to wander over to the Plaka. I understand that it is a famous area in Athens for tourists and so I went to look around. It has pretty streets and historical sites, but I thought it was a bit dull. I think it would be a lovely place to have a meal as there seem to be many restaurants at beautiful patios but of that I didn’t find it very interesting; lots of souvenir shops and not a lot of character, I thought, although it did have some lovely ruins.

Anafiotika

If I ever unironically use the phrase “hidden gem” to describe something, you’re welcome to throw an ouzo in my face, Anafiotika comes close. Anafiotika Is a little neighbourhood above the Plaka that wasn’t on my radar having read through guidebooks and travel blogs, but I can’t exactly say that it’s hidden because they have a sign up there warning tourists to be respectful of the neighbours. It is absolutely stunning, and one of the best things that I did in Athens. I had to use Google maps to figure out how to get to Anafiotika, but once I found the street that led to the stairs that led to a graffiti covered passageway, I was in the Anafiotika.

What makes it so special? It doesn’t look like you’re in Athens at all. It looks like you’re on one of the Greek islands. I have a feeling that it might get busier later in the day, but I was there early in the morning, and I didn’t see anybody else as I was walking around. The streets – if you can call them streets, they’re basically just pedestrian walkways – are lined with bright, white houses in the Cycladic architecture style, often painted with blue trim. Vines of colourful bougainvillea and large green tropical looking leaves peek over the top of walls and around corners. It is unbelievably picturesque, and yet, the pictures don’t do it justice. It just felt so peaceful; like I had been transported to one of the Greek islands as I crept around in silence, trying not to disturb anyone. There aren’t any coffee shops or restaurants or souvenir shops there; it’s just a residential neighbourhood that happens to be beautiful. It is lovely, and you absolutely should visit it if you were there, I only hope that it doesn’t become overrun with people doing professional Instagram shots because that would be a shame and would really ruin it for everyone else.

I descended without seeing another person.

From there I wandered back down to the Plaka and I stopped and had lunch, before walking away from the Plaka. On my walk I passed buskers, visited a few more churches, and made a point of seeking out the Passageway of the Merchants (aka Stoa Emporon). It is very interesting art installation that exists in old alleyway (or ‘stoa’) of now abandoned shops, and hung and hung from the ceiling are old signs for Athenian businesses, clustered together on the roof. If you didn’t know it was an art exhibit you would just think it was a very confusing passageway, It’s pretty cool and worth checking out.

*Passageway of the Merchants (aka Stoa Emporon)*

Exarcheia

I sat down and had a coffee and tried to decide what to do next period I looked on my map and was reading about different areas when I found Exarcheia. Exarcheia is a neighbourhood in Athens known for artists and anarchists, protesters and punk rock. It sounded great.

It was for many years a neighbourhood where many immigrants from the islands lived, but when the university opened several departments there, it became home to intellectuals, artists, and other people on the fringes. It was the location of the Athens Polytechnic uprising against the military government in 1973 in which at least 40 people were killed by the military and was one of the events that led to the fall of the junta the following year. In 2008 the killing of a 15 boy, Alexandros Grigoropoulos, by the police in Exarcheia again sparked massive protests.

*protest graffiti and Alexandros Grigoropoulos*

Today it is maybe the best place in Athens to go take in street art and graffiti. I’m making the distinction there because it does have some beautiful murals as well as graffiti with tags and statements of protest and opposition to the government, the police, capitalism, and tourism.

But it’s not all protest and, it’s also an excellent place to take in cool small local shops, cafes, galleries, and cinema. I was there during the day, so I mostly just wandered around and stopped and had a coffee. I had read that the neighbourhood was dangerous, but it certainly didn’t feel that way, I mean look at this street.

Visiting Exarcheia really gave me the sense that there’s so much more to Athens than I would be able to visit in my three days. There are lots of cool hidden pockets that I wouldn’t have a chance to see, but I would be happy to go back.

Concluding Athens

I finished off my day back in the neighbourhood of Psyrri, near my hostel. I had an obscenely early flight, so I just had a dinner and cigar cap off my time in Athens. Is had been an excellent and culturally diverse trip to Algiers, Nice, Monaco, and Athens. Three new-to-me countries and four great experiences.

In just a few weeks I would head to Nicaragua.

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Greece

Athenian Odyssey – Day 2 of 3

After my arrival the previous day, I awoke on my second day in Athens in my little self-contained rooftop apartment at the City Circus Hostel. I looked out over the city and gazed at my destination: the Parthenon. I didn’t have time to mess around. One of the things you hear most about Athens is that it’s overrun with tourists. Maybe that’s more true in the summertime than in February when I was there, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I wanted to be there right when they opened at 8:00 AM.

*A bread circle for breakfast and the Tzistarakis Mosque in Monastiraki*

I walked from my hostel to the site. It only took about 22 minutes and was a very pleasant walk through the quiet streets. Buying tickets for the Acropolis seemed a little bit daunting; there were a lot of options: skip-the-line, audio guide package tickets, timed tickets, etc. I just decided to walk up to the ticket gate and buy my ticket in person. I was the first person there when it opened at 8:00. About 5 minutes behind me was a group of three or four other people. It wasn’t until about an hour later that I really noticed an uptick in the number of visitors, but even then there were not many. The ticket to enter was only about €20, which I thought was very reasonable. I think there would have been a lot of reasons to get a guide to explain more of the history, but as I felt a little bit short on time and tend to be a little bit impatient with guides, I just decided to walk around and look at all the ruins on my own.

It was an extremely pleasant visit. The temperature was perfect, the views of the city were great, and, as I said, I felt like I had the place to myself. As far as Greek and Roman ruins go, I’m not always a fan. Sometimes I think they are amazing (e.g., Jerash in Jordan) and other times, if I have to do too much work to imagine what might have been there in the past (e.g., Carthage in Tunisia), I can find them underwhelming. The Acropolis was in the former category. The buildings that are there are still intact (for the most part) and some still have their original decorative carvings on the outside. It is amazing to think how long they have stood there overlooking the city (going back to the 5th century BCE). As impressive as they were, I’m not one to linger, so I probably spent about two hours there before I decided I’d had enough and headed over to the museum.

The Acropolis Museum is just at the base of the Acropolis, so it was the next logical stop. I know not everyone is a museum person, but even if you’re not, I think this is a museum worth visiting. It’s a beautiful modern building with lots of light and it’s filled with incredible artifacts and sculptures. Sure, not everyone gets excited about clay pots, but it’s hard not to be impressed with massive statues, many of which still feature incredible detail including some of the original paint. You can take pictures in most of the museum except in one area where the most impressive and ancient pieces are housed. You’ll have to use your imagination for those or Google them, but it’s truly astonishing. I took way too many pictures and am trying to maybe use something that I saw there as inspiration for a tattoo.

From the museum, I wandered back through the city, walking the streets and meandering my way over to the Central Market, which is a great place to go for fruits, nuts, and skinned goat heads. As far as markets go, it was OK, but I greatly enjoyed having coffee at Mokka, a cafe right by the market on Athinas St., which has been in business since 1923. They still make traditional Greek coffee where the coffee is made in a little pot, similar to Turkish coffee, but it’s heated in sand. Truly, I couldn’t tell the difference between it and Turkish coffee, but either way, it was delicious. I had that and a baklava and watched a bit of the street life before carrying on.

I wandered around some more and headed in the direction of the Hotel Grande Bretagne, where I visited the Alexander Cigar Bar. It is, I think, the only proper cigar lounge that I found in Athens. Maybe they don’t need one because smoking is so acceptable in public, but it was nice to find a little refuge. The bar was beautiful, everything you want in a cigar lounge, from dark woods and paintings to a fireplace and jazz music. They do sell some cigars there but they don’t require that you buy one. I smoked a cigar that I brought with me and had a Negroni. They even brought a little assortment of snacks to accompany the cocktail. I love any cocktail that comes with snacks. Truly, it was a little haven.

From there, I took the subway from outside the parliament buildings to the stop near the National Museum of Contemporary Art Athens (ΕΜΣΤ), for a bit of modern art. I think it was €10 to get in, and it was definitely worth it. It was one of those places that’s full of “weird” art. Interesting installations and video projections with lots of art inspired by political inequality, torture, and identity. I loved it.

I made my way back to the neighbourhood near my hostel. It was dark at this point; I ate another delicious vegetarian dinner with some magical potatoes and smoked a bit of shisha before calling it a day. It was an excellent day; the only downside, if I had to think of one, is that I didn’t really meet anybody. When I went for my coffees, cigars, and shisha, nobody really seemed that interested in chatting. I didn’t meet any other travelers in those places and the locals were, understandably, just content to be with their friends or themselves. But none of that bothered me; I was happy just to have a relaxing day of proper solo traveling.

If that was the end of my time in Athens, I would have been completely satisfied, but I had a third and final day yet to go. I had to do a little bit of research to come up with some additional things to do, but find them I did, including visiting the truly charming Anafiotika neighbourhood. But I shall save that for the third in my trilogy of Athens posts. Read on here.

*So much graffiti & street art in Athens*

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Greece

Athenian Odyssey – Day 1 of 3

I wasn’t that excited about going to Greece. I don’t know why. Everything I had heard about it was good but something about it just kept me away. But on my Athens, Nice, Monaco trip, it just seemed such an easy opportunity to hop over to Athens for a few days. Athens was the place in Greece that I most wanted to visit. The islands look beautiful but boring to me and I have no interest in spending time on a boat. Athens had a sort of appeal in that it looks kind of dirty and a little rough around the edges. That, mixed with all the antiquities, left me a bit intrigued.

I flew in from Nice via Paris, landing in the afternoon the airport in Athens. The train was a bit annoying. I was happy that there was a train into the city, but I had to wait over an hour for it to arrive. In hindsight I probably should have just taken a taxi, but train I did. I took it to Monastiraki station (it takes about 45 minutes) and walked to my hostel: the City Circus Hostel, located in the Psyrri neighbourhood, which is very close to Monastiraki. City Circus Hostel was a funky place in a heritage building. I liked the area immediately; it was mostly pedestrian streets lined with eateries and bars, with the occasional falling down building wallpapered in graffiti. Everyone was smoking. OK, this might not be too bad.

The hostel was great. I had decided to splurge on this little self-contained apartment on the roof with a private patio. It was a great bargain and gave me lots of privacy. I think I could have spent a month there looking out over the city. I even had my own view of the Parthenon.

But there was no time to rest, so I went out and walked around into the night. I had a cigar and a meal at a cute little cafe near my hostel and then just wandered around to get the lay of the land. The squares were full of people, mostly young, hanging around drinking, eating, yelling. It felt lively and not at all threatening. I visited a couple of churches, which stayed open late into the night and seemed to have an endless stream of religious attendees.

I don’t know what one is supposed to do in the evening in Athens, but I think I could have been happy just hopping from cafe to restaurant to bar all evening. Every place looked very appealing and had these and had wonderful patios that were cigar friendly and an excellent assortment of vegetarian food.

I wrapped up the evening on the patio of a bar called the Verve Music Café, which had a very appealing décor that would describe as ‘Rat Pack dive’ and played excellent jazz music.

I was excited for the next day when I would get up early and visit the Acropolis and Parthenon.

Those are my first impressions. Athens seemed pretty cool, easy going, cheap, tasty, an intriguing. It was certainly an easy place to visit. No special visas required for my passport, they use the Euro, many people spoke English, and no one seemed put out that I didn’t speak Greek. (I mean, there’s literally a saying “It’s Greek to me,” which suggests that it’s not easiest language to learn to speak.) And as I walked around that evening it really was dawning on me that I was in this very ancient city a place that invented or made significant contributions to, nearly everything? It looks like a perfectly normal city; you’re just walking around, looking for a place to get a coffee and the-BAM-you are face to face with a 2000-year-old ruins. And on the building around the corner is graffiti telling tourists to fuck off, and next to that is a church full of people praying at 9:00 PM, and people are selling bread circles and getting pickpocketed and getting drunk and aesthetically pleasing restaurant patios are brimming with diners being serenaded with live music while stray cats look for food to run off with… Athens made a good first impression.

I was only in Athens for three days, but I feel like I saw a lot – I certainly took a lot of pictures – and so I shall divide my Athens posts into thirds, one for each day. Read on for day two here.

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 Monaco

A Loser in Monaco

On my third day in Nice, I set out to accomplish the reason that I traveled there in the first place, which was to visit Monaco. Monaco, the second smallest sovereign state in the world (after Vatican City). A dot on the map in the French Riviera famous for yachts, gambling, and royalty. I don’t necessarily have a desire to visit every country in the world, but I just could not leave this European micro-state unvisited by me.

Getting from Nice to Monaco

Monaco makes a perfect day trip from Nice. Clearly, the best way to reach it would be by a car; preferably convertible, hugging the curving highways as you travel east; sunglasses on, a cigarette in your mouth, and the object of your affection by your side. But I don’t know how to drive…so I was going to take the train. When I mentioned this to the staff at my hotel, they assured me that I was making the wrong decision. While normally when given the option between train and bus, train is the better choice, in this case it is not. The train travels inland between Nice and Monaco, while the bus travels the iconic highway along the French Riviera. The people at the hotel assured me that if I did not take the bus I would be missing out on some extraordinary views. Who was I question them?

I left early in the morning from my hotel and took the tram to Port Lympia station. The distance was walkable, but I wanted to get an early start. From the station, just around the corner of a church, was the bus stop for #607 that headed to Monaco. I think it’s a good idea to get there early so that you can queue up, because you really want to get a seat on the right-hand side of the bus so that you can see the views.

tram in Nice

Leaving Nice & the bus to Monaco

Most people taking the bus seemed to be locals going to work. As such, the bus was a pretty relaxing journey. Quiet and comfortable. It even had little USB phone chargers. The whole thing took about an hour.

The views were spectacular. I wished that I could have popped out at every city along the way to have a bit of a wander. The road did indeed hug the curves along the mountains looking down at the sea and charming towns and villages. It was impossible to get good photos, but I tried to snap a few through the window.

view of the Riviera

Arrival in Monaco

Upon arriving in Monaco there are numerous stops where one can disembark. You can go right to Monte Carlo if that’s your scene, but I had a few other things to see first so I got off at the Place d’Armes. This allowed me to visit the palace, cathedral, and aquarium before walking to Monte Carlo. As soon as I got off the bus I took a moment to acknowledge that I was in a new country. There was a farmers market happening and I bought an exquisite pear. Seriously, I’m still thinking about how delicious this pear was.

Arrival in Monaco & The Perfect Pear

On the Steps of the Palace

I then walked up the hill to the palace. Monaco is a monarchy. It also has a Prime Minister, but it is more famous for its monarchy. At the top of the hill along with some excellent views of the harbor and various yachts, was the palace. Normally you can visit it, but on the day that I arrived it was closed.

I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady Immaculate where Princess Grace was buried. As a lover of old movies, I was always fascinated by this beautiful actress who went from being an Alfred Hitchcock films to marrying a Prince and moving to Europe. I paid my respects to moved on.

*walking around near the palace and cathedral*

The Oceanographic Museum

It was a beautiful walk to The Oceanographic Museum. An aquarium? Really? I’m not normally one to visit such a place, but I had heard that the aquarium in Monaco was indeed worth visiting. The museum was inaugurated in 1911 and is housed in a beautiful Bella pock building that clings to a Cliff over the Mediterranean. For a glimpse inside alone, it’s worth buying a ticket. The facility was headed Jacques Cousteau for nearly 30 years. This isn’t the sort of problematic aquarium where orcas are going to leap out of the water for your amusement. This is more of a scientific type of aquarium and the animals on display are primarily things like fish and eels. I thoroughly enjoyed walking through and seeing the beautiful displays of fish as well as the museum portion of the building which contained fascinating relics from naval and Arctic expeditions. It was also pleasant to get out of the sun for about an hour.

The Casino de Monte-Carlo

From the aquarium, I walked towards Monte Carlo. Now I felt like I was really seeing Monaco. The streets were beautiful and everyone looked wealthy. Beautiful cars and expensive looking shops. It was a short walk. My destination: the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

Arriving to the area in front of the casino there were art displays of Princess Grace and Prince Ranier III as well as depictions of Hollywood stars like Frank Sinatra (with whom Grace starred in ‘High Society’).

My first order of business is walking to the local cigar store to check out the selection. Prices were not too bad so I bought a handful of Cuban cigars and made my way over to the Café de Paris on the square in front of the Casino de Monte-Carlo.

*the Cafe de Paris patio and view of the Casino; my newly purchased cigars.*

The casino closes from noon to 2:00 every afternoon. I had arrived in that blackout, so I decided to have a drink (or two) on the patio of the Café de Paris. It is the perfect spot. It is a large patio with everyone facing towards the square looking at the beautiful buildings and the casino, watching the people coming and going. It is definitely a place with a lot of tourists, but also locals and wealthy visitors. There was a fleet of luxury cars parked out front and on the day that I visited there was also a gaggle of paparazzi pointing their cameras at the casino, but I don’t know for who or what. I know it wasn’t for me.

I had an excellent time sitting on the patio. I had a cigar and two negronis and felt pretty good by myself. The servers were very friendly. All the while I was steeling my nerves to go into the casino and try my hand at roulette.

I am not a gambler. I don’t like casinos, and I think gambling is silly unless you just really enjoy the rush of doing it. I do not enjoy that rush. I would much rather just have my money in my pocket and spend it on something that I like; however, I wasn’t coming all the way to Monte Carlo and not trying a game in the casino. I had decided that I would play roulette because slots are lame and I don’t know how to play any card games.

I did some studying before I went to Monte Carlo, to figure out if there was any strategy to roulette (apart from “always bet on black”) or what the etiquette about it was. I think this was a good idea, because before doing this research I somehow thought that I got to spin the roulette wheel. Apparently, that is a faux pas.

One can enter the lobby of the casino and have a look around the lobby for free. But if you want to enter the gaming salons, you need two things: one is your passport. Seriously, do not go to Monaco without your passport. As well, you need to pay an entry fee. You pay €20 to enter the casino, but if you enter after 2:00pm, €10 of that you can use for drinks or games in the casino. I thought it was quite reasonable.

The interior of the casino is gorgeous. The gaming tables make it seem very ‘James Bond’. The room that has the slot machines in it feels a bit tacky, but the main room is excellent. I felt like a huge fraud walking inside. I don’t gamble, I’m not rich, and I didn’t know what I was doing.

I walked over to the bar and used my €10 voucher towards an espresso martini. I sat down on one of the sofas and watched the action. Unfortunately smoking is not allowed inside, or I would have lit a cigar immediately. It has the kind of atmosphere that begs to be smoked in.

I tried to look cool and watch people playing games. Photos are not allowed inside but I did sneak one just for the sake of my own memory.

I finished my drink and I walked up to one of the roulette tables. There was a couple at it playing roulette; middle-aged European; they clearly knew what they were doing. I had exchanged €120 into chips. A friend had given me €60 to play on the table, and I decided to match their €60 with €60 of my own. This was the most that I have ever spent on gambling and probably ever will.

I didn’t really have a strategy, but I wanted the moment to last for as long as possible so I made small, simple bets in the hopes that I would win something.

The European couple realized that I didn’t know what I was doing and gave me some advice. They were quite kind. I would have thought that people gambling in Monte Carlo would have been snobby, but these people were not. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but I didn’t feel unwelcome

Each time the wheel was spun (sounding to me more like ‘The Price in Right’ than ‘Casino Royle’) I had a little flicker of hope that maybe I would double my money and walk out a winner. One time I did win something, and decided to let it ride. Then I lost. Indeed, on every hand other than that one, I lost my money. It didn’t take long before my 120 euros was gone.

I had a good time, but I was a little disappointed that I didn’t walk out winning something. Or at least breaking even. I know that the reason that casinos are so rich is because people generally lose, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe I would be different. Maybe I would have a magical Monte Carlo gambling experience. But, nope.

Leaving Monaco

I walked out of the casino feeling like a loser. I was a loser. I looked around at the square and the fancy cars and the fancy cafe and I was just done with it. The sun seemed too hot, the sky too bright, and I just wanted to get out of there. I walked to the bus stop and waited for the next bus back to Nice. I couldn’t get back fast enough; maybe it was the three cocktails I’d had or the heat, or the fact that I had not eaten since I had the pear, but I started to feel a little bit sick and I just wanted to be back in Nice.

Reflections & Moving on

Monaco was an excellent day trip. It was easy and fun and different. I’m even glad that I gambled even, though it was clearly a huge waste of money, but I think that’s the last time for me. I was much happier smoking my cigars and walking around then I was spinning away my money. But I’ll try anything once.

I had a final night in Nice; dinner in a cigar. The next morning, I had a morning flight to Athens, via Paris.

Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024 France

Two Perfect Days in Nice

Algiers to Nice

I left Algiers absurdly early on February the 13th. My destination was Nice, France. I had been to France multiple times, but never to the South. I was curious to see Nice, but my real reason for going there was to make a day trip to Monaco. But fly to Nice I did; a short hop from Algiers to Paris to Nice. I arrived at about 7:00 AM and I would have three days and three nights in the city before moving on.

From the airport I took the tram from the airport into the city centre. Easy. I walked a few blocks to my hotel, the Hotel du France (which was very nice, with great staff, quince wallpaper, and not too expensive), and dropped off my bag. I walked a few blocks to the sea.

Nice Impressions

I’m not a big fan of the ocean. I live about a block from the ocean in Vancouver and I almost never go to it. I like that it’s there and I like being near it, but I have very little desire to look out at it. I know people who are happy to just gaze out at the sea and frankly I don’t understand what the appeal is. I would much rather sit at a sidewalk cafe in interesting city, or, if I had to look out at nature, I’d much rather look at mountains or a valley than the ocean. But as I gazed out at the Mediterranean from the boardwalk in Nice, I think I kind of got it, at least for a moment. It was so stunningly beautiful. The colours of the water and sky and this uninterrupted stretch of beach were just lovely. And the fact that I could look out at it without actually having to step on sand was even better. They have these strips of chairs along the boardwalk where people can gaze out at the beach and the water. And people did. And so did I.

I liked Nice instantly. For the moment I got off the tram it was beautiful. Beautiful buildings, beautiful streets, beautiful lemon trees, and beautiful people. It just had this wonderfully calm and elegant atmosphere. No one was rushing. It surprised me little. I generally prefer chaotic and loud cities, but something about Nice won me over. And I hadn’t even seen the old city centre at this point.

Day One

I walked through the city and eventually made my way over to the old part of Nice, which was even more charming. The buildings were perfect. They were old and colourful with warm tones of yellow and ochre, coral and tangerine, many with small flourishes of design and just the right amount of weathering to give them character. It was so charming.

Because it is France, many people smoke, and while many people smoke cigarettes they don’t look down their nose at people who smoke cigars, so I was in a good place. I had already mapped out a few cigar stores, some of which had seats outside, but I didn’t need particular cigar lounges, as I was welcome to enjoy a cigar on any patio. I found myself a seat on a patio and had a cigar and a coffee and watched people parade past.

Generally speaking, the people in Nice were dressed beautifully. Even out for a casual stroll they were well put together with smart blazers, jaunty scarves, beautiful bags and sunglasses. Subtly stylish and comfortable. Because I had known that I would be going to Monaco on this trip and I had wanted to smoke cigars and visit the casino there, I had dressed nicer on this trip than I usually do, and I was thankful for it when I arrived in Nice. I didn’t feel out of place. I still had my combat boots (for comfort and possible altercations) but my little black dress, blazer, and oversized sunglasses seemed to work well. Did I look like I fit in? Maybe; but that facade was all done away with once I opened my mouth, and I spoke French like a child.

I walked to the Place Massena where the famous Sun Fountain stands. It features a large statue of Apollo flanked by smaller statues of Earth, Saturn, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. It was originally built in 1956, and was somewhat controversial, because Apollo, who, in mythology, leads a chariot with four horses across the sky each day to bring light, was depicted as without his chariot and with his four horses nestled onto his head like kind of a crown. Moreover, he was nude, and not everyone could agree if he should have been or if he was too well endowed. The artist performed a sort of ‘reduction’ on the statue to please the public, which it did not, and it was taken down for many years and put into storage until finally being fully re-erected, no pun intended, in 2011. Problematic history aside it is an impressive piece, framed by salmon-coloured, curved buildings and set on a black and white checkerboard tiled square.

I spent my first day in Nice walking around and looking at buildings and taking pictures, stopping for coffee and cigars. It was very pleasant. I didn’t really have an agenda in Nice. I just wanted to see it and visit Monaco so I felt no need to take anything off a list, which was good. I had a thoroughly awful meal that evening. I made a mistake of eating at a restaurant that I think catered to tourists and I had a pizza which was gross. (As much as I like France, it still is one of the countries with the least options for vegetarians, in my experience.) While I was eating the pizza (and trying and failing to do so elegantly) outside on the patio, a pigeon flew into the window and landed under my table, in trauma. I spent the entire meal checking on it and trying to give it drinks of water hoping that it would regain its consciousness, but it died around the time I asked for the cheque. C’est la vie.

Day Two

The next day, I made my way back into old Nice (just a few minutes’ walk from my hotel) for the morning flower, fruit, and vegetable market. As if the old city needed to be anymore charming. But it was more charming. I walked around; I ate a pear and had a cigar in a coffee. I had my eagle eyes on the socca stand, waiting for it to open up. Socca is a Nice treat. It’s kind of like a very thin, crispy pancake made from olive oil and chickpea flour, sprinkled with salt and pepper and served from various stands around the city. It’s very tasty.

More beautiful buildings. I couldn’t get enough photos.

It was February the 14th. Valentine’s Day and I was in Nice, in France. I saw people out for romantic meals and holding hands, but none of that was for me. I went on a walk up to the Cimetière du Château – because why not hang out in a cemetery on Valentine’s Day?

The walk up the hill was pleasant, and past an aggressive fountain and various tile work pieces displaying Neptune another underwater creatures. At the top is the cemetery and stunning views over the city and the sea.

I wandered around up there for a while before making my way back to the Old Town.

I walked the streets a little bit more, popping into some of the shops. There are delightful vintage stores in Nice. Tiny little boutiques with well curated collections of clothing and accessories. I bought a blazer in a handbag. I’m really not a shopper, but somehow ‘Nice me’ wanted to go shopping. I then went for a very ladylike lunch of an onion tart, a glass of cheap wine, and a cigar.

As I walked around, I noticed that the hours of the restaurants and shops in Nice. I’m from Canada, where things are pretty much open seven days a week and generally long hours. Some things are open 24 hours a day. Why should we be denied the opportunity to buy toothpaste at 2:00 in the morning? But in Nice many of the shops were closed at least two days a week and their hours of operation during the day were chaotic. For example open Wednesday to Saturday from 11:00 AM to 2:00 PM and 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM. What this told me was that people there have some sort of quality of life. There wasn’t the need to be working every minute of the day or to be catering to customers 24/7. You want to eat in my restaurant? You fit my schedule; not the other way around. It was kind of refreshing.

I popped into the Palais Lascaris; built in 1648 as the home for the Lascaris Vintimille family until the French Revolution, it is now a museum. It was pleasant to walk through the ornate rooms and there was a particularly good collection of antique musical instruments.

I had really wanted to visit the Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain, but it was closed for some sort of renovation. So I went to the Chagall museum.

I’m not a big fan of Chagall, so this museum wasn’t high on my list, even though most lists of what to do in Nice will include this is one of the top attractions. It was fine. I have a better understanding of Chagall’s work now, but it’s still not my cup of tea. However, if you like his paintings this would be a ‘must see’.

That evening, I took myself out for a quasi-romantic dinner-for-one on the patio of an Afghan restaurant in the old city of Nice. Of course I had a cigar. It was exquisite.

Nice had thoroughly charmed me and turned me into somehow a classier more relaxed version of myself. The next day would be my day trip to the micro-country of Monaco.

Algeria Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024

Museums, Monuments, & Massacres: Day 2 in Algiers

My first day in Algiers had been sunny, but on my second day in Algiers, it was pouring rain. Not a little rainfall, but a heavy, relentless torrent. I was soaked through before I had an opportunity to buy an umbrella. I didn’t realize it until later, but the rain had ruined my passport, washing away the details and colours of my photo until I looked like an apparition. Fortunately, the rain was only a morning problem. By the afternoon, the sun was out, and we began to dry off.

I met my guide Rasha (from Fancy Yellow Algeria) at my hotel, and we embarked on a day tour of Algiers, which was about eight hours. This was the first time, I think, that I have ever had a female guide, which a nice change. We started by retracing my steps from the previous day, but this time, I got to see some extra, hidden places in the casbah. Mosques and dwellings were revealed to me behind closed doors. We went to a bombed-out building where the photos of Algerian heroes hung.

*Too many casbah photos? Well then they shouldn’t make it to photogenic.*

The French colonization of Algeria was a theme.

The French were there from about 1830 to July 1962. The French brought more than beautiful buildings and a European café scene; they brought death and destruction. The tales of horrors committed by the French against the Algerians were extreme: rape, torture, burying people alive, throwing them off cliffs, and worse. This was particularly bad when the Algerians fought for their independence and the French retaliated during the Algerian War (1954-1962). While travel tends to teach me that that people are basically kind, history teaches me that we have always done terrible things to each other and probably always will.

We climbed up to a rooftop and had coffee whilst overlooking the city and the sea.

After a very nice lunch, we took the subway to the botanical gardens. The subway is limited in terms of how much it covers, but is a proper, functioning metro.

We walked through the gardens, which were stunning. Interestingly, it formed the location setting for many of the shots from the 1932 movie “Tarzan the Ape Man”. Which was shot mostly in Algiers but many of the jungle scenes specifically in the botanical gardens. The tree and lagoon from the movie are still there.

From the top of the botanical gardens, we took a gondola up to the Museum of Fine Arts. It is one of the largest Fine Arts museums in Africa and has a good collection of European and Algerian art. The museum seemed to be almost empty at the time that we were there which made for a nice experience.

From the museum we walked over to the monument of Algerian independence, a huge and imposing structure with an eternal flame the countries independence and those who died in the struggle. There is also a small museum just underneath it which isn’t a great museum but it does provide a lot of information about the war and if you enjoy viewing awkward mannequins recreating historical torture, you might really dig it.

We took the subway back downtown and parted ways. It had been an excellent and educational tour. My time in Algiers did feel a little bit rushed, because it was a little bit rushed, but I was happy with what I had seen. I had the evening free to myself. I walked around at night, feeling even more comfortable today than I had the day before and took pictures of buildings and mosques as the call to prayer rang out.

I had done some research on where to smoke cigars. I saw almost no one in Algiers smoking shisha, which was a bit surprising to me, but it just doesn’t really have that scene. I also looked into where I could smoke cigars inside and there seemed to be no real answer. I found one blog for many years ago that referenced a restaurant where smoking was allowed but I couldn’t find it anymore. However, I did find a peculiar restaurant that had both smoking and non-smoking sections and I decided to go there. It was called the Brasserie des Facultés and was a watering hole/bistro across from the university. And they do in fact have a smoking section. I was delighted. The place felt wonderfully 1970s. I ordered some dinner and enjoyed a Romeo y Julieta along with it. How civilized.

Dinner, like my lunch in Algiers, was bland. Couscous or noodles with vegetables served in a tagine. Not offensive, just bland, I longed for spicy sauces.

But good food was just around the corner as I was about to leave for France. Algeria deserves more of my time, and I definitely plan to go back to visit the desert vistas of the South, but for now this is all I would see. The next morning, the third day after I arrived in Algiers, I was on the 6:15 AM flight to Nice.

Africa Algeria Algiers-Nice-Athens 2024

Alighting in Algiers

I wanted to visit Algeria. The largest country in Africa, sitting on the north coast between Morocco and Tunisia, stretching from the Sea to the Sahel. It seems to have it all: stunning desert vistas, a vibrant capital, rich cultural traditions, ancient ruins…I was smitten. I particularly wanted to visit the south, with its isolated, ancient desert cities. I’ll tell you now that I did not get to the south. I still plan to visit, but it didn’t happen this time.

Logistics

Algeria is one of those countries that has been very difficult to visit. Visas required with invitation letters and mandatory tours, consulates that don’t respond, and expensive fees. This have been getting better in the past few years, but when I went it was still not super easy. To go, I needed a visa, which required sending my passport to Ottawa with an application, fees, my bank account statement, a letter from my employer, an itinerary, and an invitation from a tour company. I’ve never done a multi day tour and wasn’t interested in it, but I had heard that it might be possible to travel independently after I took a tour. I understand this is now possible; then it was not – or so I was told. There were a lot of competing stories at the time. The tour company said I could only get a visa for the length of my tour. I did ask how much a tour would be if it included a few days in the south, but it was prohibitively expensive. So I reached a compromise: I would only visit Algiers (this time) and worked out a short visit (so it wasn’t too costly) that gave me some time on my own as well as with a guide.

I had heard so many horror stories from people who sent their passport into the Algerian consulate in Ottawa and never got the visa, or that it took months; I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I mailed in my application on a Monday and had my passport back, with the visa, by Friday of the same week.

The arrangement I had was with the Fancy Yellow tour company. They arranged to pick me up at the airport and drive me back to the airport and I had a half day tour on my second day.

Overnight in Paris

I flew from Vancouver to Paris, where I spent the night; arriving late and leaving early. I stayed at the hotel Libertel Gare Du Nord Suede, which was cheap and serviceable, and went for a late night was around the area, just to stretch my legs and soak up something of being in Paris. I got a sandwich and had a small cigar in the chilly February air before going to sleep.

Arrival

The next morning, I flew to Algiers. No hassles at the airport. I had my visa. It was about 12:45. I met my driver, changed some money, and drove to the ABC Hotel. What it lacked in charm or character it made up for in being in a central location and being clean and functional with a nice free breakfast and helpful staff.

I immediately went out to explore.

Algiers

I walked all around the central part of Algiers, taking in the streets and walking past landmarks and impressive buildings. Algiers is lovely. Like a cleaner Paris in some areas. Gleaming white buildings with decorative balconies, flower sellers, tree-lined streets, statues, and squares. It was lovely and felt safe and, while I was dressed quite modestly anyway (all in black with a loose knee-length dress, sweater, blazer, scarf, tights, and combat boots), I didn’t feel like that was strictly necessary. Certainly there was no need to cover my head or wear an abaya.

Post Office

I took photos of the stunning mosques (they didn’t seem to be open for interior visits). I got a Mhajeb, also known as Mahdjoub (a delicious flatbread/crepe-like thing stuffed with, in this case, different greens) being sold from a window. A few men on the streets played the Algerian mandole for donations.

Most people in Algiers spoke Arabic, with some French, and Berber, with the written language of Tifinagh, a written form of Berber appearing on many signs. Tifinagh is a very intriguing looking language; almost like a language that would be engraved on some alien artifact.

Language barriers notwithstanding, it seemed like an easy place to visit. But I hadn’t been to the Casbah yet. The Casbah was the most appealing part of Algiers. An historic quarter of the city, rising up a hill, with the buildings mostly dating back to the 17^th and 18^th centuries. It is a UNESCO heritage site, but due to years of conflict, colonization, and neglect, parts of it are in very poor repair. Readings about the Casbah, most reports say it is dangerous; that tourists should not visit it without a guide. I didn’t let that stop me, and had no issues wandering the narrow, crooked alleys. I was a bit shy about taking pictures that day, not wanting to attract any hostility. (I made up for it the next day.)

Had this been my only visit to the Casbah, I would have been quite happy, but I admit that I had a better visit the next day with my guide, as there was so much history I didn’t know and areas I had missed.

But it was a perfect wander, and I finished it off with a coffee and a cigar on the excellent patio of Le Tantonville Grande Café d’Alger. Dating back to 1883, it has history and a perfect patio for people watching as you sip your coffee. It was, apparently popular with French bohemians, artists, writers, and philosophers, including Camus and Sartre. I felt rather sophisticated.

I went back to my room just after dark. It had been a long journey. I thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Algiers, but I will say that the city felt a bit quiet. It wasn’t busy or bustling, and just felt subdued. There is nothing wring with that, but I felt like it lacked excitement, but it made up for it in history and looks.

The next day I would have a guided tour and see much more of the city.

Europe Ireland

New Year’s Eve in Dublin

I awoke in Dublin in my hostel bunk. I had had a perfectly lovely evening the night before but this was my one and only full day in the city. It was December 31st, and I would be leaving early the next morning. There was no time to waste.

I walked into the city and retraced some of my steps from the night before, to see the areas in daylight. The weather was not cooperating. It was windy and gray and cold. The grey and cold I was expecting and actually fine with, but the wind made things unpleasant. Fortunately, by the afternoon the sun would come out again for a bit.

I felt immediately at home in Dublin; notwithstanding the excessive alcohol consumption I had observed the night prior, it has a seriousness about it. A studious, literary kind of aura that I’m very comfortable with. It’s entirely possible that I am projecting onto the city that which I already expected from a lifetime of reading novels and poetry by Irish authors, but nevertheless, that’s how it felt and I liked it.

Walking around Dublin there were plaques and statues to great Irish writers and thinkers. I sought out Oscar Wilde’s house and the statue of him. I won’t post a photo of the statue as it is ubiquitous online and I’m not a big fan, but it was very cool to see his house.

I had planned, of course, to go to Trinity College to see the library, however, it was closed for cleaning or renovation, so I had to take it off the list. Right there is a good reason to return to Dublin. But I was able to wander the city. I visited parks and shops and numerous cafes whenever I needed a break from my walking in the cold. Everyone I chatted with was friendly.

I visited Saint Patrick’s cathedral, which was a ticketed church, but well worth it as it is beautiful inside and there is a lot to look at. I enjoyed the decoration and design of the inside of the church, as well as the mummified remains of a cat and rat that were pulled out of the pipe organ in the 1950s.

I wandered aimlessly through the city at some point taking in statues and green spaces and bits of street art.

I visited the pub the Brazen Head, which bills itself as Dublin’s oldest pub, having been open since 1198. It wasn’t the best pub that I’d been to, but since I was right there, how could I skip such superlative drinking experience?

I walked to the Irish Museum of Modern Art, which was excellent. Precisely the sort of modern and occasionally weird art that I enjoy.

I visited two cigar stores downtown. There was a James J Fox, which is related to the James J Fox tobacconist shops in London, which I frequent when I am there. As well as ‘The Decadent Cigar Emporium’. In both cases, I bought a couple of cigars and chatted with the proprietors about the smoking laws in Dublin.

I had read prior to coming to Dublin that smoking had been banned indoors everywhere, but sometimes when you make inquiries you can find that there are certain secret places to smoke. Sadly, both shops confirmed for me that smoking is indeed banned inside and that includes a prohibition on any cigar lounges. The people at James J Fox were able to give me intel on one pub, however, where smoking would be allowed because it is technically outdoors. The James Toner pub. I made a mental note of that for later.

I wandered the alleys and poked around in bookshops and vintage clothing stores, just enjoying whatever i found in my path.

I was having a perfectly lovely day – especially after the sun came out; however, things took a turn when the sun went down. It was December the 31st. What that meant was that once the evening came, everyone’s evening plans went into full New Year’s Eve mode. I didn’t have any New Year’s Eve plans being there alone in the city. I should say, I don’t like New Year’s regardless of where I am. I think it’s a stupid holiday. I don’t like excessive drinking, I don’t like staying up late, and I don’t like big raucous parties, so it’s just not for me. So spending New Years in a foreign city means that I’m a bit of an outsider. I would have been perfectly content to go for a nice dinner and have a drink somewhere but most of the restaurants had put in place expensive tickets for parties or multi course dinners with a prefix menu. And I wasn’t about to go and spend £100 to have a dinner or attend a party that I didn’t want. I also would have been happy to sit outside somewhere and just watch the world go by but, being that it was December in Ireland, it was cold and had started to rain again. I tried to elbow my way into a few pubs just to have a drink, but those places had already become so packed there was a waiting list outside.

Remembering the suggestion of the tobacconists at James J Fox, I walked to the James Toner pub. And this was my salvation. The James Toner pub is a proper pub, but they have a back entrance and there’s a sort of massive mostly enclosed patio area where smoking is allowed. You basically feel like you are indoors except that there is a small part of the ceiling that is replaced with the sky. It still had leather booths and tables and TVs and a full bar. The heaters were blaring and it was comfortable. I sat there and had three cigars and multiple Jameson and ginger ale drinks (a drink that I had only discovered once I went to Dublin and found to be quite tasty). People weren’t particularly social outside of their individual groups. It was New Year’s after all, and people were out with their friends to have a good time; they weren’t really interested in chatting with the weird foreign girl dressed in black smoking cigars in the corner. But that’s okay. I found a spot where I was comfortable, and I was happy to sit there quietly and just watch the crowd.

Once it got to be about 9:00pm, it was time to move on. The place was getting too busy and too loud, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. At this point I just reconciled myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to go to a big party so I may as well just go back to my dorm. I felt a sense of shame going back to the hostel actually. Here I was in a foreign country; was I really not going to stay up until midnight to ring in the new year? No, no I was not. I had a shower and got into my bunk and as soon as I did that I knew that I had made the right decision. I was cozy and comfortable I watched a movie and fell asleep. I got to enjoy a bit of New Year’s revelry but was able to avoid the last few hours of drunken idiots and staying up late just for the sake of staying up.

The next morning, I woke up early. I think everyone in the hostel was asleep. Even the lobby was littered with the bodies of passed-out revellers. I arranged a taxi and headed back to the airport and back to Vancouver. It was a little less than 48 hours that I was in Dublin and, clearly, I need to return to see more of Ireland, but I was completely satisfied with the short visit that I had. Although I’m not sure that I would be eager to go and visit somewhere for New Year’s Eve again, it was a great way to start off 2024.

Europe Ireland

Arrival in Dublin

The way statutory holidays fell in December of 2023, it made it irresistibly easy to take a long weekend away. I had just spent four days in Iceland over Christmas. I then returned to work for four days before again turning to the airport to fly to Dublin for New Year’s Eve. At the time, this seemed like a brilliant idea although I must admit that flying back across to Europe only four days after having just returned was a bit gruelling. But none of that mattered of course once i was in Ireland for the first time. It seemed brilliant.

I left Vancouver flew to London where I had a short layover and then flew to Dublin. This was my first time in Ireland and I wouldn’t have very much time there at all so I had to make the most of it. I arrived at about 4:00 PM on December the 30th and went straight to my hostel. I was staying at the Jacobs Inn hostel in Dublin, which was a great location, a short walk from the centre of town and to almost everything that I wanted to visit.

I don’t know what accommodation prices are like at times other than New Year’s, but at New Year’s that was very expensive. I booked myself a part in it room of 10 pods for women and I think that little bunk bed cost me about $150.00 a night CDN. Fortunately, I was only going to be there for two nights. It was a great hostel, extremely well designed. My little bunk was so cozy and comfortable it had all the necessary amenities. I scarcely saw the other girls that I was sharing a room with.

By the time I got myself organized and went out, it was dark. I walked across the bridge towards the Temple Bar area. I know, it’s super touristy, but when you never been there before it seems like a logical place to start in the evening. On the way I was walking down a street that seemed entirely unremarkable, when I past my first Irish pub.

It was called the John Mulligan pub and its sign proclaimed that it had been in business since 1782. Good enough for me, I went inside. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. It was simple, cozy, and busy, but not too loud; everyone in there looked like a local and was having a good time chatting with each other. There were still Christmas decorations up. I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey. This is the part of the blog where I should tell you that I don’t drink beer so I did not consume any Guinness. This was strictly a whiskey trip. I do like whiskey, but I don’t tend to drink the Irish variety. For my two days in Dublin I would use my naivete as an ‘in’ to talking with locals and bartenders about their whiskeys and asking them what they recommended. That worked well in this instance, as soon I was deep in conversation with two local fellows. If that had been the only thing I did in Dublin I think I would have left perfectly satisfied it was a great experience.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I continued over to the Temple Bar area, where things were noticeably more crowded and louder. The streets were charming. Clearly, there touristy, but they were extremely appealing. Everything seemed so Irish. There were fiddle players and whiskeys and Guinnesses, old buildings, men in tweed, young drunken boys smoking cigarettes…it was exactly what you would expect and everything you would want. I went into the actual Temple Bar itself, and got myself a different type of whiskey and elbowed my way into the centre courtyard, which only had a partial roof so, technically, smoking was allowed. I smoke some cigarillos and sat down and took in the scene. A band was playing Irish music in the occasional Leonard Cohen song. The place was standing room only and everyone was having seemingly the time of their lives.

I took this photo (below), which I think is my favourite photo that I took from the entire time I was in Dublin. There’s just so much energy and although you can’t see many faces, those faces that are exposed are all exuberant. It was another perfect experience.

From there I walked around, I had a mediocre meal of something that I can no longer recall that involved potatoes, and I hit up another bar where I had a whiskey and a cigar on the patio. A few people chatted with me, most of them drunk, some of them flirtatious. It was all very enjoyable. It was a little on the cold side but it hardly mattered as I had several whiskeys now coursing through my body.

It was a wonderful introduction to Dublin. The next day, December the 31st, was my only full day in Dublin and I had a lot to accomplish. I was in bed by about 11:00 that first night and excited for the next day.

(Whenever anyone tells me that my occasional short trips overseas aren’t worth the time for money that it takes to do them, I point to experiences like this. While Dublin certainly deserves more of your time than an evening, in that one evening I had a wonderful, memorable experience and I was thankful that I had another day to follow: New Year’s Eve.)

*many of the buildings had lighting projections*

Europe Iceland

Christmas Day in Reykjavik

Christmas Eve was behind me and i was confronted with my final day in Iceland: Christmas Day. I have not travelled much at Christmas. It is not a cheap as I would like, and some destinations are overcrowded. That said, it is easy to take a long weekend off from work at the holidays, so it is a convenient time for a holiday. Having done it a couple of times now, I can say this: Christmas is a good time to travel, but it is best to avoid Christmas Day.

That said, Iceland does have some fascinating Christmas traditions. There are a group of mischievous fellows called the “Yule Lads” (really) and their raison d’être is performing naughty pranks and delivering gifts to good children by placing them in their shoes. Their mother is a troll names Grýla who collects bad children in a sack and boils them alive, presumably for consumption. And there is the Yule Cat who hunts down people who don’t get an item of new clothing for Christmas and eats them. The best tradition, however, is the ‘book flood’, according to which books are given as gifts on Christmas Eve and then the rest of the evening is spent reading. This sounds wonderful – and after all of the naughty children have been kidnapped and eaten there is certain to be lots of peace and quiet for reading. Of course, I was solo and had no one to exchange Yuletide books with, so I needed to fill Christmas Day a different way.

I was flying home from Reykjavik on Christmas Day, but not until the evening, so I had a day to fill. That was a bit of a struggle. It was dark and cold and almost everything was closed. I ended up spending about $75 CDN on a buffet meal at my hostel. The hostel did have a nice cozy feeling, but no one was particularly chatty, so I ate alone. I am normally happy to eat alone, but on this particular day, where everything seemed a bit depressing, I could have done with some company.

I went out and walked around to sights that I had not yet laid eyes on; things I could appreciate from the outside and walked aimlessly for a while.

I stopped and I had a cigar sitting on a bench outside a closed early that had left its lights on and its pink plastic Christmas tree up and had a cigar. It was so cold, but it felt a bit special.

I then killed some time at the Lebowski Bar, simply because it was open. There was only one other table occupied inside. It did have a cozy feeling and was playing Christmas music. I had a mulled wine and mulled over whether Christmas Day was a good day to be visiting anything.

Fortunately, by early evening it was time to return to the airport.

I loved my time in Reykjavik, but I kind of wished I had left late on Christmas Eve or early on Christmas Day, as the last day just felt like an expensive way of killing time. Lesson learned for the future: use Christmas Day as a day for long haul travel; not for sightseeing.

Despite this, Reykjavik had exceeded my expectations. I can’t stop thinking about its beauty and magic. I even find myself thinking about how relatively close it is to Vancouver and how it is kind of a perfect long weekend getaway. Maybe I will return to see it again – maybe in the summer – but in the meantime there are more new places to discover. Like Dublin, which I would fly to four days later.