One auspicious evening in December, we headed out to join the Texas Exes group for a game watching. We were new to London and trying to find our place in the wild jungle of a city that we now call home. Luckily for us, some London veterans and UT alum decided to come as well. Just like trying to set-up a date, we chatted and exchanged numbers.

Little did we know what that exchange would lead to. We loved getting to know the Houses, becoming fast friends and exploring everywhere from the restaurants of London to Ben Nevis and Copenhagen.

So, when after 4 years in London, their time was up, we knew we needed to send them out with a big farewell. One of the places remaining on their bucket list was Cinque Terre and as I can never say no to Italy, the decision was made.

Hiking with the Houses

Perched on cliffs, the five villages of Cinque Terre and all the surrounding vineyards dot the rugged landscape. The contrast of the blue waters of the Mediterannean take your breath away. The area is famous for its coastal walks in more ways than one. Not only are they known for their beauty but also because of the tragedy that struck in 2011. During heavy rains, mudslides in the area caused 9 deaths, so following that, the paths were closed for several years. Supposedly, they were set to open again for the summer season in 2014, making it the perfect time to visit.

After arriving in Manarola, we set out to explore only to find out that this wasn't in fact the case. Additional rains meant that 75% of the coastal paths were closed, including the famous Via Dell'Amore. So instead, we hiked upwards through the hills and vineyards, through barely identifiable paths marked with red and white stripes every so often to let you know you hadn't gotten lost (yet).

While we weren't right on the coast, the views were still beautiful. Our first day, we started small and hiked from Manarola to Rio Maggiore. We rewarded ourselves with gelato, then took the train back to enjoy dinner and a sunset at Marina Piccola.

The next day, we hiked the other direction, from Manarola to Monterosso al Mare. Again, two of the coastal paths were closed, turning us to the hills. We first hiked to Volastra - all uphill - and decided that exertion meant it was time to reward ourselves with some wine. We tried a flight from a local vineyard (mostly whites which are common to the area) and a sweet sciacchetra. With wine in our system and smiles on our faces, we felt ready to tackle the downhill walk to Corniglia, continuing on to Vernazza and Monterosso al Mare.


Our approach to each village awarded us with fantastic views, small colourful cities with the blue backdrop. We had a little time to explore each city, and of course eat. We had a goal to try gelato in each town, as well as the foccacia that is so well known in the area (for good reason). Even after 7 1/2 hours among the cities, I could have spent more time in each of them wandering the hidden alley ways and discovering their secrets. Each city had it's own personality.

Riomaggiore, perhaps the gateway to Cinque Terre as the main train stop;


Manarola, my favourite of the villages filled less with tourists and more with locals enjoying gelato and foccacia bread;


Land-locked Corniglia perhaps was the most remote, perched on the hill giving you a look over everything below;

Picturesque Vernazza with it's hidden beach and secluded harbour;

Bustling Monterosso is the largest, and most crowded with tourists and locals flocking to their beaches.


13 miles later, we found our way back to Manarola to finish off the evening with even more food and another beautiful sunset. While we had explored the villages of Cinque Terre, our time in the coast wasn't quite done yet, but that will wait for another post.

Manarola by night

Everyone knows about the winters in London (or at least those of us who've been lucky enough to live here know about the not so lucky London winters). The sense of oppression as heavy skies just seem to weigh down on you, full of ominous clouds waiting to deliver rain upon unsuspecting Londoners walking home in the dark at 5 pm.

Yes, London winters are terrible and we all love to talk about how terrible they are, as weather is our go to conversation starter.

But in my opinion, Lonodn summers aren't getting their due. It comes as a surprise rather than expectation when we find ourselves blessed with a sunny day.

We cheerfully comment on the nice weather but add some type of caveat that the rain must be on it's way. It's just too good to be true.

We enjoy the best, but hope for the worst.

And yet, even while waiting for the skies to open upon us, we all seem to find ourselves outdoors, soaking up vitamin (that's pronounced vit-a-min not vite-a-min) D and shamelessly working on our 'tans'.
After a mild winter, we've still be graced with a lovely summer, with an occasional shower popping up to remind us that we are in fact in England. I've probably jinxed the whole thing now by writing about it, but I can't really complain. It's been one fantastic summer.

How did we spend it? Unlike most other Londoners, we didn't spend it getting out of the city. Since we were moving house, we spent nearly all of our time in London, enjoying the green spaces and crossing our fingers that Mother Nature continued to smile upon us. And despite getting a bit of travel fever, I'm glad that we stayed. We saw London at it's best and it will be something nice to look back on and remember once winter rolls around and we're back to cursing the rain and hoping for sunshine!

Of our trip to France, I was most excited about Mont Saint Michel - I scheduled a whole detour for us from Normandy so I could make it there. I had seen pictures, the idyllic island (in high tide) off the French coast. It was gorgeous, picturesque and something for a bucket list of places to see.

Then we visited and I realised I wasn't the only one with Mont Saint Michel on my bucket list.

There were thousands and thousands of other people trying to crowd themselves into this tiny island. We parked in the car park at the end of the road, squeezed ourselves into the stuffy shuttle with other passengers (wistfully watching those who made the wise decision to walk the mile there), then shuffled off to join the rest of the herd.

Once within the walls, we followed the road up to the cathedral. Luckily, we found some steep steps up that had deterred many other tourists, so we dashed our way up, hoping to find no one had decided to make the climb up. Our hopes were dashed and nearly as many people were waiting at the top for us as at the bottom. The medieval abbey was imposing - lots of large stones, none of the delicate decorations you may find today. It was interesting to see how it was built upon itself over time as the population grew. We filtered through chapel after chapel, with vaulted ceilings, then queued up to leave the place down a narrow staircase.

Low tide out behind the abbey

Once deposited back on the street, we followed the main road down. We passed street signs for butchers and cobblers that hinted back to the villages old history, but also reminded me a lot of Beauty & the Beast. I could certainly imagine Gaston rolling out of one of the locals belching.  A very short walk later and we were out, back on the road to wait for the buses to pick us up and return us to our cars. I could finally breathe.


Don't get me the wrong - the island is still picturesque, even in low tide when we went. I can only imagine being there when the place is truly an island in high tide. But. So. Many. People. I know that France gets a lot of tourists, but being 3 hours south of Paris and outside of the summer, I thought we could escape some of the crowds. You couldn't pay me enough to get me there in the middle of July. I know that sounds negative because, hey, I was one of those tourists. For me though, there wasn't anything to make this place special after all when you weren't able to explore nooks and crannies because you were being trampled by crowds. Part of the fun of visiting a place is finding hidden secrets and learning the history. The place probably had lots more for me to discover, it just wasn't possible with the number of people there. Plus, there are so many other places nearby with great histories and culture that probably have more to offer. Normandy is very nearby, or we stopped about 1 hour away at the Villedieu des Poeles for lunch and found it completely charming.

So with all that ranting, what's my verdict? If you want to go to see the island, snap your picture and check it off your bucket list? Go for it - it is beautiful, and perhaps even more beautiful from the balcony of your little B&B while you have breakfast (like we did) or at 7 am when they open before the tour buses arrive. If you still want to go, but want a truer experience, trying staying an evening on the island. However, there are only a few hotels on the island meaning they are expensive so make sure to book yourself in early.

I was looking for something to fill our schedule with between Paris and Normandy, since we checked out of our hotel at noon and needed to drive down shortly after. Versaille wasn't quite on the way, but as I looked at the map I realised that Giverny & Monet's house were.

I remembered Giverny from my first trip to Europe. My teenage brain remembered the famed bridge (and a particular photo where I was what is now know as photobombed by a Japanese tourist) and the story of the eclectic painting in his house.

What I either didn't remember, or was different 15 years ago, was all the people. We showed up around 3 pm, thinking we'll spend an hour roaming before continuing further down the coast. We were greeted by a full car park and a nice long line waiting in front of Monet's House.

Ariel and I roamed the streets while the boys waited, at first thinking we'd take in some gorgeous sites and find cute gifts, then realising the number of people prohibited that and instead focusing on finding a toilet.  We waited in line for 30-40 minutes before finally getting tickets, meaning our time was more restricted as they shut down at 5:30.  Since we were on a tight schedule, we bypassed the gift shop you're first led into and darted straight out to the gardens.

It was the perfect time of year to go, at the beginning of May. All the flowers were in full bloom and I've never before seen a garden so full of color. All types of tulips (taking me back to the days of the Lale festivals in Istanbul), lillies and thousands of others I couldn't even begin to name. And despite the lines out front, it seem as if most were interested in the water lillies, because very few were taking time to wander the gardens.

After taking time to stop and smell the roses, we decided it was time to join the rest at the bridge. If you've seen Monet's paintings, you'll recognise the difference now.  While perhaps even more beautiful, the wisteria covered bridge isn't quite what you remember from Monet's famous paintings. Nonetheless, people were lining up for pictures to post under it's archs.

The water lilies weren't yet out, or had already died for the year, so we simply wandered around the ponds before making it back to Monet's house.

This was our final stop - and truth be told it isn't too exciting. There's lots of artwork, but none of Monet's as his is all on exhibit elsewhere. The rooms are crowded and colourful, perhaps my favourite being his kitchen. But after 10 minutes, you realise you've seen it all and are dumped back out by the gift shop.

We made a few gift purchases, before heading back to our car.  While the gardens were beautiful, I'm not sure if the real deal lived up to my memory.  If you're considering a day trip from Paris, a morning visit may be better (or in the off season versus the shoulder season), but my expectation of a quiet country retreat was overshadowed by the tour buses and thousands of tourists milling on the street.

I love Paris. I visited Paris and London on my first Europe trip almost 15 years ago. I've been back a few times since (including backpacking with Paul) and still manage to keep the love affair strong.

Of course there's awful things about Paris - the overpriced and touristy food, the reek of the underground system and the fear of pickpockets more so than any other place I've been.

But then, you stand under the Eiffel Tower for the hundreth time and still wonder how a big hunk of metal could be so delicate and lovely.
Or you sit at a classical music concert in the beautiful stained glass chapel of Saint Chappelle and feel like it must be a dream, the setting is so unreal.

Or you find yourself simply wandering the streets and stumble upon the hidden beauty of Jardins des Luxbembourgs, the perfect spot on a sunny day to pop up a bottle of champagne and people watch.

Or even just talking a stroll by the Louvre (whether or not you go in to glance around it's treasures) and catching the sunlight or moonlight at the perfect moment to mask everything in a glow.


Then, as you wander back to your hotel in the ecclectic Montmarte neighborhood, you'll smile as you discover the Love Wall or even Amelie's favourite diner, and know that your Paris love affair will continue despite the people, smells and your poor French skills. So, you celebrate with a glass of wine, perhaps a crepe and bask in the glow of l'amore.