The Egyptian Museum - And a 3000 Year Old Scandal

In Part 2 of Cairo: Crowds and All, Lorraine provides a game plan for tackling the Egyptian Museum and reveals a 3000 year old scandal.

A highlight of our visit was a trip to the Egyptian Museum.  

Gird your courage to the sticking point and brave the scrum at the ticket window to gain entry.  You won’t regret the effort, and you’ll feel a great sense of accomplishment when you finally walk away with your tickets in hand. 

A word of advice, hide your camera in your pocket or underwear (and yes, the image does defy the imagination).  A young woman inside inspects your bag and sends you back out to check your camera if she finds one.  However, once inside, people were snapping pictures happily with no apparent repercussions.

The museum itself is a large, somewhat gritty warehouse,  albeit a warehouse filled with priceless artifacts – a rare opportunity to walk 5000 years into the past.  We walked down aisles past hundreds of sarchophagi, jewelry displays, and death masks; we admired a written tablet that we suspected was the  Rosetta Stone  till I recalled that the Rosetta Stone had been shipped to England and resided in a museum there. And therein lies the challenge of the Museum. Signs in English are rare, and we often found ourselves speculating about the meaning of the exhibits.  While there are numerous ‘guides’ offering services before you enter the Museum, I can’t vouch for how knowledgeable they really are and would recommend that true history buffs check with Viator to find a guide, or the hotel concierge (if he’s more helpful than the one at the Sheraton).

Moving upstairs, we reach the King Tutankhamun exhibit. [Note to English speakers with limited knowledge of Egyptian history: The name is pronounced Tut (rhymes with hut) + ankhamun (rhymes with uncommon). Apparently, calling him Two Tank Haymen is the kind of error that embarrasses your partner and amuses other more erudite tourists.]   King Tut (this is the safe pronunciation option) burial chambers reminded us  of those Russian figures, where  you opened one to find a smaller identical figure inside, and so on till you reached the final, tiny figure. King Tut was the littlest doll in the center.  He was buried inside three gold covered box tombs,  sized so that they fit inside each other. And inside the three layers of gilded tombs,  was a solid gold king shaped sarcophagus (not on display)  and inside of all of this was the mummified body of King Tut,  the boy king,  wearing the well publicized and exquisite golden death mask that is on display at the museum.

The 3000 Year Old Just Revealed Scandal

We learned that King Tut was a rather unremarkable pharaoh, understandable since he ruled from the age of 9 till his death at 19.  His fame is all due to the grandeur of his tomb. In addition to youth, we’ve just learned that there was another good reason for little Tut’s less than distinguished rule. While we were there the Egyptians announced the results of DNA tests conducted on tissues from the Tut mummy (how wild is that – 3000 year old DNA?).  It seems he suffered from a number of nasty genetic diseases. This is not surprising since the DNA results revealed his parents were brother and sister. Compounding the problem, the boy was then married to his sister. A sad, but perhaps predictable discovery in his tomb were two of his progeny - mummified stillborn fetuses – products of that unfortunate union.  All that gold, and all that power, and no one seemed to have figured out the hazards of inbreeding. 

A final suggestion for those who like to read books about places they visit:  Egypt’s ancient and crumbling monuments are the tangible remnants of an ancient civilization; and modern Cairo, splendid, infuriating, and complex beyond all western understanding, is the proud  recipient of a 5000 year old legacy.  I often find that a good book can shine a light into the mysterious and exotic world of foreign travel.  My favorite fiction  books about Cairo are The Cairo Trilogy, by Naguib Mahfouz.  In the period between WWI and II, we follow three generations of a family .  For those who would like to browse even further I recommend www.bibliotravel.com, a website that allows you to type in the name of your city or country of choice, and then displays a wide range of books about the area. 

Photo of King Tut and Queen (sister) from the Egyptian Museum

Cairo - Crowds and All

If you are crowd-phobic like me, you might think that Cairo's not for you. That's not the case and No Crowds reporter, Lorraine leads the way on surviving and thriving in one of the world's most crowded cities.


The best time to visit is between November and March when the average daily temperature is 25C/77F. Right now the average temperature is 38C/100F so plan now and go later.

Egypt in winter so inspired Gustave  Flaubert that he recalls it started his  ‘literary pot boiling’, and shortly after returning to France he began work on Madame Bovary.  Florence Nightingale, was sent to winter in Egypt by her desperate parents, who hoped  that, seduced by the magic of the Nile, she would abandon her perverse interest in hospitals and find a nice young man to marry.  The magic of Egypt did indeed inspire her, but not in the way that her parents hoped.  She departed for the Crimean War after her return, and into history books as the Lady with the Lamp. (See Winter on the Nile: Florence Nightingale, Gustave Flaubert and the Temptations of Egypt. By Anthony Sattin.)

So it happened that last February, when Gary had work in Cairo, I happily made plans to accompany him, humming “see the pyramids along the Nile, dum de dum” while I hunted for bargain flights from Dubai to Cairo.  

Egypt Air did the trick and we found it to be an efficient if not luxurious airline option. We spent a long week end exploring the city, visiting the Giza pyramids (who knew they were just 45 minutes outside Cairo?), and eating our meals overlooking the Nile. While I didn’t return to Dubai and begin writing a masterpiece, or head off to war,  I do have some advice for anyone who would like to  enjoy this hyperkinetic city that teeters on the brink of chaos and somehow always manages to survive.

Cairo is the second largest city in the world and second in population only to Mexico City; according to the cab driver who picked us up at the Cairo airport and drove us to the Sheraton Hotel, Towers and Casino. As always, we found that cab drivers are the very best source of local mythology when visiting any city, except New York, where language barriers or attitude seems to prevent any communication.  With help from cab drivers, a group of enthusiastic school girls we met along the way, tour guides, and our own always fallible trial and error method, we learned a little about how to enjoy Cairo. 

#1: To reduce crowds in Cairo, get up early and visit sites in the morning.  You’ll never be alone in Cairo, but early mornings (from 9 a.m. – 11) are somewhat quieter, plus it’s cooler.  Alternatively, the guide books suggest that late afternoon is less crowded, but the infamous daily Cairo traffic build up may well cancel out that advantage.

#2:  Learn to say ‘Halass’ (emphasis on second syllable) which seems to translate as a combination of ‘enough’  and ‘ it’s finished’. This phrase is important, especially at the Giza Pyramids, where raucous vendors pitch camel, horse and buggy rides, and guided tours. If you don’t want to be besieged by would-be guides and other vendors, pretend you are deaf and dumb.  We learned that smiling and nodding ‘No’ just encouraged a renewed, more emphatic sales pitch.

The 4500 year old Sphinx guards the entrance to the Giza Pyramids, and is also known as ‘The Father of Terror’.  It may have been because we approached  the sphinx from behind and from the elevated level of the Great Pyramid, or because of  the oddly peaceful expression on its face, but we both found the sphinx less terrifying and somehow smaller than we had imagined.  However, a ‘sound and light’ show is conducted several evenings a week, and I’m told that the booming voice of the sphinx does the narration.  Though we didn’t make the show, it did occur to me that for those seeking true horror, the show might be just the ticket.

 

As an alternative, we suggest that if the sun is not too hot, and your shoes are comfortable;  take a walk a little ways into the desert, feel the dry desert wind on your face, and  sense the silence that dominated this Necropolis for the 3800 years during which the Great Pyramid was the tallest man made structure in the world.

 

#3: Hot, sun baked, hungry and thirsty, we adjourned for lunch at the 100 year old Mena House Hotel at the Giza pyramids. The food is good and the view over lawns and Palm trees to the Great Pyramid is spectacular.  Don’t miss it. 

#4: Stay at a hotel with a room overlooking the Nile – it’s an endless source of fascination though most of the river traffic appears to be recreational, with no sign of the original commercial importance of the river in evidence. We stayed at the Sheraton Cairo Hotel, Towers and Casino, where, despite their advertised 5 restaurants, had only one lobby restaurant open for lunch.  However, our room had a spacious balcony overlooking the Nile and we developed the habit of ordering  room service lunch, which we ate leisurely sitting on our balcony gazing out at the river and listening to the car horns of Cairo.  Our taxi driver described this sound as the ‘song of the city’, and after a while it became a rather pleasant backdrop to our activities.

 

#5: Unimpressed with the tours (or lack of same) suggested by our hotel concierge, we discovered a web site www.viator.com which offers all kinds of tours and events, world-wide, ideal for the independent traveler who prefers to design their own itinerary as they go, but might need some help.  We used them to book a Nile dinner cruise, which was touristy but fun.  Viator provided an English speaking guide who met us at our hotel, drove us to the cruise ship and escorted us to our table.  At the end of the evening, we were met and driven back to our hotel.  Given the exuberant anarchy of Cairo driving, we deeply appreciated this level of attention.  We’ll definitely consult with Viator again when we’re in an exotic location. 

Our  dinner show consisted of the usual belly dancer, which is not part of Arabic tradition but somehow has become associated with the middle east, and is therefore essential to every tourist floor show. We were pleased to note that Size Zero body type is not much sought after among Egyptian belly dancers; when these ladies twirled, the boat swayed.  We did find the whirling dervish dancer to be terrific, if a trifle dizzying to watch. 

At night the river filled with small brightly lit party boats, festooned with flashing colored lights, each capable of holding up to about twenty people.  On Valentine’s night the boats were gaily tricked out in red flashing neon hearts, each boat occupied  by a couple, who sat together while the boat pilot squired them along the dark river.  Gary and I imagined that it was a big night for proposals, or at least (my cynical nature intrudes here), propositions .

#6: A word about Egyptian wine.  Don’t drink it!  Insipid is the best we can say about it, and unfortunately, it was the only wine we could find on any menu.  While just about any kind of hard liquor can be found in any restaurant or bar, the only wine served was Egyptian, with quaint names like Scheherazade or Omar Khayyam.  If you’re a serious wine drinker, bring your own (I know from grim experience that this weighs down a suitcase and always requires checking it but sometimes it’s the only option). Alternatively, you could try duty free at the airport when you arrive – though we didn’t think to check it out, you might find some marginally better choices.

 

#7: Finally, get lots of Egyptian small bills, since baksheesh (Arabic for tip) is expected as part of all exchanges.  10% was the recommended amount, and if anyone argues and asks for more, just remember to say ‘Halass’.  A good quick estimate to help get a sense of the currency, is to ask how much a Big Mac, coke and fries cost in the local currency.  Everybody knows the answer to that question.  

Next installment: The Egyptian Museum + The Unfolding Two Tank Scandal

Photo Credit: Gary Ransom

The Flame of French Resistance

March 2010, Paris

David Cameron: “Fancy a day out, Sarko? Call me Dave, by the way. Look, I need to beef up my European credentials. You need a break from pension reform so lets celebrate the 70^th anniversary of Charles de Gaulle’s radio broadcast on June 18^th together here in London. Bring Carla.”

Nicolas Sarkozy: “ Dave. I can do better than that. I can cover a Eurostar with pictures of de Gaulle, fill it with 800 former servicemen AND bring Carla. The myth, oops, I mean the flame of French resistance must not be extinguished.  See you in June.”

While in Paris last week, No Crowds also took the chance to  ‘refresh’ the flame of French resistence by visiting the Memorial to Marshal Leclerc, dedicated to the Commander of the Free French Forces and the liberator of Paris, and the adjacent Museum of Jean Moulin, devoted to the leader of the French Resistance. Both of these museums can be found in the illusive Jardin Atlantique, located on top of the Montparnasse train station.

Jardin Atlantique

Now, you would think a roof garden on top of a train station would be easy to find. Not so. To begin with, there are two entrances with free-standing glass elevators that, in better days, would whisk visitors up to the garden in the sky but judging by the amount of rubbish in the empty and sinister relics, they haven’t worked in ages. Two other possibilities exist: a staircase in the far left corner of the Montparnasse train station and an entrance from Boulevard Pasteur.

Because it is hard to find, this 8.5 acre roof top garden in the middle of a densely populated part of the 15^th Arrondisement is an uncrowded and rather magical place. Surrounded on all sides by modern high rise buildings, including the uniquely ugly Tour Montparnasse, the garden is filled with trees and plants from the Atlantic area of France. The space is a surprising urban oasis that is perfect for children who love the many hiding places and views down onto the train tracks and station through the ventilation shafts.

The Memorial of Marshal Leclerc Hauteclocque and of the Liberation of Paris and the Museum Jean Moulin

OK, the name is a mouthful, but this museum, which is actually two exhibitions in one building which tells the story of France’s experience in World War II through the eyes of two very different Frenchmen. Marshal Leclerc was the Commander who led the 2^nd Armored division that liberated Paris from the Germans (‘aided’ by the Americans as they put it) while Jean Moulin was a French government official tortured and executed by the Germans who is considered the father of the Resistance. Both museums have large collections of photographs, documents and film from the period. Unlike most museums in France, many documents and explanations have been translated into several languages, including English. The museum is well-curated, empty and the permanent collection is free. During our visit, a French school group joined us briefly. Otherwise we had the building entirely to ourselves. Closed Mondays.

Now, at first I thought it was a weakness that this memorial/museum presents a view of the resistance and liberation not universally shared by all historians. But increasingly during my visit, I came to appreciate what Charles de Gaulle and his compatriots were able to pull off with little more than rousing oratory and good political instincts and after a visit to The Memorial of Marshal Leclerc Hautelocque and of the Liberation of Paris and the Museum Jean Moulin I know exactly why Dave and Sarko are so keen to share in the warm glow of de Gaulle’s inspiring London broadcast to the people of France.

Recipease - Where No Crowds Learns to Cook Like Jamie

Jamie Oliver. What a brand. What an empire. You can eat in his restaurants, watch his shows, buy his books, support his campaigns and download his iPhone apps.  Does the guy ever sleep?  I’ve often wondered what all the fuss was about until last night when I joined a group of friends at Recipease – Jamie’s community based food ‘happening’ in south London – and got the religion.

The idea was both fun and simple. We assembled a group of friends, picked from a list of dishes (we chose Thai Green Curry), grabbed a glass of wine and started cooking the fresh ingredients that had been assembled for us. An energetic, Jamie-like professional chef guided us along using a combination of skill, humour and charm. At the end of the class, we got to sit together around a table and eat what we prepared. And all for the price of what we would have spent for an ordinary meal at an unmemorable restaurant. While we were part of an evening group event, Recipease also offers classes for individuals and couples at different times during the day.

According to the website, Recipease was conceived as a community based food emporium where everyone can get involved with food, no matter what your ambition level, starting position or finances. And here’s the thing. The concept is delivered in a fresh and original way and it works. The place looks and feels welcoming. The products are appealing and fairly priced – and in London, that’s huge. The staff has the kind of energy that only comes from people who believe in what they are doing. Best of all, Recipease absolutely proves the point that good cooking can be big fun.

For locals, Recipease delivers a welcome change from the standard restaurant hustle and hassle. For fans of Jamie Oliver from all over the world, Recipease delivers an interesting opportunity to experience Jamie’s food revolution first hand and visitors to London can use the easy-to-use online booking system to plan and book ahead of a visit.

Travel Advice for the Class of 2010 - and their parents

When my son graduated from business school in 2008 with plans to travel around the world and then find a job, I gave him sound advice.

“Son, we’re heading in to a really bad recession. You have only experienced boom markets. You have no idea what is about to happen. Under no circumstances should you take off now and see the world. Times are too tough. Why put all your hard work at risk. Trust me.”

And his reply? “Thanks, Mom. See you in 6 months.”

The conclusion to this story is instructive.  The young man in question went around the world, had countless amazing experiences, came back, struggled for a short while and then got himself an excellent job

So here is my top travel tip for members of the Class of 2010.  

Ignore your well-intended relatives and their advice as well as your own worries about earning a living. Take that trip. Go walkabout. Go (deeper) in to debt if you must. You have the rest of your life to pay it off. I don’t think it makes a huge difference where you go. Just go.

Now if you are a parent of a member of the Class of 2010, and you have bought into the idea that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for your graduate, then here are some suggestions for a graduation present that may be imprudent but will never be forgotten.

A train ticket on either the 6,000 mile Trans-Siberian Express from Moscow to Beijing or the Ghan in Australia  - 2,980 miles in 54 hours from Adelaide to Darwin

A trip with either Global Volunteers – a well established organization offering the opportunity to live with locals and work on service programs or Relief Riders International providing humanitarian, medical and educational missions on horseback

A copy of Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, a budget of $3,000 - $5,000 and 5 – 7 months to hike the 2,000 mile Appalachian Trail

For far less money and time, tackle the 71 mile Apolobamba Trek in Bolivia –  part of the ancient road network of the Inca, without crowds, where less than $40 a day will get you a guide, a burro and accommodation and transport to and from La Paz

And I add this last suggestion just to make every mother’s blood run cold – a copy of Patrick Symmes’, Chasing Che: A Motorcycle Journey in Search of the Guevara Legend – a travelogue that recreates Che’s eight month motorcycle ride through South America - and how about a nice BMW?

Graduates of the Class of 2010 – off you go!

Dash to Marrakech

This just in - from a first time No Crowds reporter with a tale of travel defiance and derring do - plus hot tips on how to show a determined volcano who's boss.

Dear Kate –

My advice is that if you really want to see Morocco with no crowds, go while a volcano has closed all the European airports. Some of the places we went to wouldn’t have had crowds in any event – but for mostly empty, try it during a volcano.

You asked for our “getting out of the UK while volcanoes erupt” story and here it is:

We awoke on Thursday morning, 15 April, to the news that all UK airports had been closed. This was not good news because we had Easyjet tickets leaving the next day for Marrakech. Our plans were to spend the next week visiting the desert and the mountains of Morocco, ending up back in Marrakech the following weekend for a friend’s 60^th birthday party. By Thursday afternoon, it was becoming clear that European airspace would be more closed, not more open, the following day. And we would not be able to get to that tent at the edge of the Sahara on Sunday night if we weren’t in Morocco by Saturday morning.

I might have accepted our fate, but Dan is made of sterner stuff. We were going to be in Morocco, somewhere, on Saturday morning. That was that. The Eurostar website crashed repeatedly as he tried to get tickets to Paris, and then even to Brussels. We thought about heading for the ferries, but word was that it was chaos in Dover and Southampton. Dan conscripted his co-workers into service, and the redoubtable Claire called her mother in France – ‘”Lille”, came the response (with, as Claire relates, much Gallic shrugging of shoulders) try Lille.

Sure enough – should I share this? I hear that Iceland has a bigger volcano than Eyjafjallajokull so we may need to keep this secret – when we went in to book Eurostar tickets to Lille only, we got through. We were able to book the 5:40 am Brussels Eurostar to Lille! From there, we booked TGV Lille to Paris and Paris to Marseilles. The Marseilles airport was still open. The Air Maroc website showed seats available on the 9:30 pm to Casablanca, with a connection to Marrakech, so we bought them. Now all we had to do is actually make our connections and outrace the ash cloud to the south of France. (Contingency plan – night trains through Spain, ferry from there.)

St Pancras at 5 am Friday 16^th April was unusually crowded for the time of day, but not as bad as it was to become throughout the weekend. Little known Eurostar fact: they apparently allow more people on than technically have seats. There were people sitting in the luggage compartments and in the jump-seats by the lavatories. They did not look unhappy – It beats swimming the channel.

Things were also pretty calm in Lille when we arrived at 9:30 (having lost an hour of time), and in fact we were able to change our 11 am connection to a 10 am train into Paris.

Gare du Nord at 11:10 am was a bit of a scene, but could have been worse -- we made it out to the taxi ranks outside, across the street and to the southeast (not the infamous rank to the right coming out of the Eurostar that you have to wait at forever) and headed for Gare de Lyon.

The situation there was not for a “no crowds” blog – complicated no doubt by the fact that the eruption was being celebrated by a train strike. The Paris airport had by this time closed. I’ll hand it to Gare de Lyon – they had staff stationed at the edge of the ticket queues discouraging people, especially order-loving Brits and Americans, from getting in them. We explained that we wanted to exchange our tickets for the 3:15 train for the 1:15 to Marseilles. “Just get on,” they advised.

So, when the track number was identified, we joined the surging herds climbing into the cars. Dan found a ticketmaster, who assured us that the train was ‘complet’, and that we should get off – but we observed that we were far from alone in skulking about, obviously without proper tickets. Following the advice of a well-dressed fellow skulker, we settled ourselves into two very comfortable and roomy seats in first class as the train started moving. What were they going to do? Throw us into the Provencal countryside at 300 km per hour?

Little known fact about the TGV – they did nothing. They didn’t even ask for a ticket. So we went first class from Paris to Marseilles holding a second class ticket for a different train. As Dan says, “Hey, this is the best train ever!”

Another taxi ride at 5 pm to the Marseilles airport – which might actually be closer to the Aix stop, but in any case, we were there in time to beg for a place on the 7:30 flight, direct to Marrakech. Seats were available, they said, but our ticket could not be exchanged because that facility is available only by phone. We pointed out that their phone line at that point simply said to call back. They said maybe Air France could do the ticketing for them, but in the event Air France could not exchange tickets – only sell new ones. We did not want to buy a third set of tickets to Marrakech. This posed a dilemma because there were web reports that the Spanish airports were about to close, which meant that Marseilles, too, might close before we got on our scheduled 9:30 flight to Casablanca. (The Marseilles airport, by the way, given that it was the only airport in France that remained open, was remarkably calm).

To make an already too-long story a bit shorter, 15 minutes before flight time, the Air Maroc stationmaster dropped by the ticket desk, and agreeably changed our ticket to the 7:30 flight, which proceeded to take off – and land -- in Marrakech as scheduled. Hoorah! We made it to our Riad just a couple of hours later than we would have on Easyjet (had it flown!) – and we had made a journey, not simply stepped off the airplane into another world. We also got a chance to practice our French, and reflect on the history of France and North Africa, St Exupery, etc.

That said, we were just as happy, ten days later, to take that non-stop Easyjet flight back to Gatwick.

Yours in travels and travails,

Penny

North by No Crowds: Adventures off California's Highways

Road Trip. In America, those are magic words. The open road is the American Dream. You can go where you want, when you want, how you want. It’s up to you. You make it happen. To experience America, take a road trip. For the ultimate road trip, make it Highway 1. Here’s what we had to say about this fabled road in 2008:

“There is a saying that a well-loved child has many names. The same can be said about one of America’s best loved highways, State Route 1 in California, aka Highway 1 or Pacific Coast Highway or, as locals call it, the PCH. No matter what it is called, this 655 mile stretch of tarmac, which starts south of Los Angeles in Orange County and ends north of San Francisco in Mendocino County, is the most beautiful, dramatic and inspiring coastline in the United States. That’s a bold statement but I doubt anyone who has driven this road will argue.”

Having already done the LA to San Francisco stretch of the PCH, we were eager to tackle the road north of San Francisco all the way to the Redwood State and National Parks. It’s an area known for spectacular scenery, good food, offbeat residents and no crowds. That sounded pretty good to us, a travelling trio consisting of my husband, our 12-year old-daughter and me.

We had rented a cheap little car (save where you can) but Hertz saw fit to give us a grand luxury coupe. Thanks. This Super Cruiser was way too cool for us. It took 30 minutes and both of us reading the manual just to get it started, but, having gotten over that hurdle, it was smooth sailing – and super fun driving.

We had been warned that some stretches of the PCH north of San Francisco could be both tedious and treacherous so we modified our original idea of a stately drive north. Instead, we raced north on Highway 101 for 5 ½ hours to Trinidad, just south of the Redwood National Park and then spent 5 leisurely days meandering back south. We travelled along the Avenue of the Giants – a 32-mile, 2 lane road under the canopy of the Redwoods, the PCH from Leggett to Albion and then Route 128 through Sonoma wine country to Healdsburg and back on 101 to San Francisco.

The Redwood Coast

Much has been said about the experience of standing under trees that soar 300 feet in the sky that predate the Roman Empire. Muir Woods, an old-growth coastal redwood forest 12 miles outside San Francisco is what most people get to see. It’s a wonderful place but you have to fight for a parking space and share the grandeur with busloads of tourists.

In the Redwood National and State Parks, on the other hand, you can see these wonders of nature in complete solitude. We hiked for hours without seeing anyone. Of the parks in the area, our favorite is Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park that has lots of well-marked trails, a visitor’s center, Fern Canyon and Gold Bluff Beach. We also spent a glorious afternoon at nearby Patrick’s Point State Park hiking, climbing rock formations and searching for stones on Agate Beach. The only folks we saw all afternoon were some local surfers. Pure No Crowds bliss.

To stay near the redwoods, we recommend the Lost Whale Inn in Trinidad. The setting is secluded, the views spectacular. Rooms are large and nicely appointed. The breakfast and complimentary afternoon refreshments are generous and delicious. The innkeepers were welcoming and there is something to be said about waking up each morning to the sound of barking sea lions. We were disappointed that the steps down to the inn’s private beach were closed because of damage from winter storms. The innkeepers say they are working hard to get them repaired.

Heading south from Trinidad, we spent an interesting evening in Arcata, long considered Northern California’s (and therefore America’s) most progressive town. It’s part college town, part Cheech and Chong installation and here’s a factoid I just love about the place. Back in 2003, Arcata’s City Council voted to outlaw compliance with the US Patriot Act. Way to go Arcata! If you like Japanese food, Tomo, located in the Arcata Hotel on the plaza serves very good sushi.

We also spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around Ferndale, a wonderfully preserved Victorian village. There are lots of charming houses and some fun galleries and shops. We loved visiting the Blacksmith Shop and Gallery, established in 1979 by Joe Koches, whose goal is to offer the public “the finest collection of master blacksmithing in the U.S.” It’s not stuff that easily fits in your carry on but the shop is happy to ship and the items are beautiful.

The Mendocino Coast

After an impressive drive through the redwoods on the Avenue of the Giants and a spectacular stretch of the PCH, we arrived in Mendocino. The place reminded us of the island of Nantucket in Massachusetts and no wonder, transported New Englanders built it. Filled with saltbox cottages and rose covered picket fences, the town exudes picturesque charm but like Nantucket, is a victim of its own success with high prices and too many shops hawking t-shirts. But with that said, we loved the atmosphere and particularly loved rambling along the dramatic 2-mile stretch of sea cliffs that surround the town.

In Mendocino, we stayed at the Alegria Inn that has an ideal, quiet location overlooking the ocean with private beach access. Because we were travelling with Eloise, we stayed in one of their cottages that had a fold out futon. It also had a wood burning stove, a well-equipped kitchen, a funky Japanese tub and a double bed in a loft. I have to say that I wasn’t crazy about the loft (too old) but everything else, including the helpful innkeepers and excellent breakfast were first class. We also had a very good dinner at the highly rated Café Beaujolais and a tasty lunch at the Moosse Café.

The Sonoma Wine Country

Travelling through wine country with a 12 year old poses a dilemma. As Eloise was neither old enough to drink the wine nor act as the designated driver, we felt it necessary to temper our alcoholic aspirations. Still, it would have been a shame to be so close and not take the opportunity to dip into the world famous California wine scene. Plus, we had heard from lots of savvy travelers that Sonoma was a much more No Crowds appropriate experience compared to Napa – less chi chi and more relaxed.

We ended up heading for Healdsburg, an attractive town that sits at the center of three wine producing valleys. With over 160 wineries within easy striking distance, and a restaurant scene that is starting to give Napa Valley’s Yountsville a run for its money, we thought Healdsburg could provide something interesting for us and something fun for Eloise.

Don’t tell our dentist but the big experience for Eloise took the form of a candy shop unlike any other – except perhaps Willie Wonka’s. Powell’s Sweet Shoppe, on the square in Healdsburg, sells thousands of different kinds of candy. They have candy in there I haven’t seen since I was Eloise’s age. The shop is big fun for any child and an interesting piece of nostalgia for any American parent.

After treating Eloise to a bag of sweets to take back to school we treated ourselves to a visit to the rather glam Ferrari Carano winery, famous as much for its elaborate gardens and villa as for its wines. If the Ewing family from the 80s TV show Dallas had a winery, it would look like Ferrari Carano. Needless to say we had lots of fun.

And then sadly, it was time to head back to San Francisco. Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, I thought about all our inspiring experiences: the magnificent redwoods, the pristine coastline, the sometimes eccentric residents and almost always excellent food and as I had in 2008, I thought how unattractive it was to be envious of your own child. But in the case of my northern Cal son, again, I just couldn’t help myself. This place is too perfect. Come see for yourself.

Photo Credit: Eloise Hedges