And this wave-sitting-on-a-warehouse is perched right at water’s edge in Hamburg’s harbor, on the Elbe River, in the recently redeveloped port area called HafenCity. The concert site is, officially and fittingly, called the Elbphilharmonie.

I attended a concert in the 2,100-seat Grand Hall. Seating is on all sides — music in the round, if you will — and the hall is more vertical than a typical concert space.

The seating areas seem to climb the walls like terraces, which is probably why this organizing style is called “vineyard” in architectural circles. Further, the organ is built into the seats spanning three levels.

There isn’t a straight line in the hall, also no bad seats.

The 2,100-seat Grand Hall inside the Elbphilharmonie, featuring the so-called “vineyard”-style seating arrangement. The vertical lines at left center are the pipes of the organ, which sits among the seats on several levels.

But my theme here is the bird’s-eye view, in this case of Hamburg’s harbor and HafenCity. From the Grand Hall’s foyer, I looked through some of the 1,100 variously shaped glass elements that sheath the building out onto rooftops in and near the harbor, as well as at some of the new buildings that characterize HafenCity.

The Elbphilharmonie also accommodates, either in the original seven-story warehouse or within the 18-story glass add-on, other concert halls, restaurants, a 244-room hotel and some residential housing. The warehouse, built to replace one destroyed in World War II, was sitting on 1,111 concrete piles, but another 650 were added so the warehouse could support all these new things.

All these new things also include the Plaza, a viewing platform that wraps the entire building on the eighth floor. This is where I got my 360-degree views of city and harbor.

Hamburg’s newest landmark, the Elbphilharmonie, a former warehouse topped by a dramatic glass structure housing the Grand Hall, a hotel, apartments and other facilities. The gap between the brick and glass components accommodates the Plaza, a viewing space that encircles the building.

View of HafenCity, Hamburg’s redeveloped harbor area, seen from the Elbphilharmonie’s Plaza viewing area.

Just above the former warehouse, at 121 feet above the street, the Plaza is open to anyone although tickets are required. Presumably, this is to manage crowd sizes; the Plaza attracted 2.5 million in its first five months. Same-day tickets are free; there is a small fee to book ahead.

To accommodate the outdoor Plaza, the walls at this level are recessed so that visitors are always within the outer parameters of the Elbphilharmonie’s upper and lower parts. The new glass structure overhead provides shade.

Entry and exit to and from the Plaza walkway is via doors in S-shaped glass walls that, in two places, sweep arc-like into a large open foyer, creating two large outdoor terraces well sheltered from weather and the wind.

Glass walls that surround portions of the Elbphilharmonie’s Plaza level. Reminiscent of the building’s roofline, these walls also suggest waves due to their undulating formations. For this photo, I was standing outdoors looking in.

Numerous Elbphilharmonie features regarding doors and apartment balconies (inset balconies, not jutting out over the streets or river below) are designed to let the winds pass through without causing damage (and maybe to avoid blowing people away?). And it WAS windy on the Plaza.

A small section of the UNESCO-protected warehouse district for which Hamburg is well known. The district, called Speicherstadt, is adjacent to HafenCity. If there is a way to have a bird’s-eye view of these buildings, I don’t know about it. The district has eateries, such as the one seen here, but no one lives there due to the risk of flooding.

By a fluke, bird’s-eye views were a feature of my few days, this May, in northern Germany. Others were:

1) Views of Alster Lake in the middle of Hamburg, from the newly opened lakeside luxury hotel, called the Fontenay.

Exterior of the Fontenay hotel, opened in March 2018. Sitting at the side of Alster Lake, the property features three entwined circular buildings.

Designed as three linked circles, which create eye-catching atrium spaces, the hotel offers lake views from many rooms, but the broadest are from the Fontenay Bar terrace on the seventh floor. These are 320-degree (no, not 360) views of lakeside houses, church steeples — and sailboats on a sunny spring day.

View of Hamburg’s Alster Lake from the seventh-floor terrace of the Fontenay hotel.

2) Views of Lubeck’s city hall, 15^th century city gate, churches and gabled houses, seen from St. Peter’s Church. The church, like some of the medieval city center’s other historically significant buildings, was reconstructed after World War II destruction.

Lubeck’s city hall, seen from St. Peter’s Church in the city’s medieval center. The three attached buildings seen facing a plaza comprise the city hall. The city hall and St. Peter’s had to be mostly or entirely rebuilt after World War II.

At center, St. Peter’s steeple, which provides the vantage point for bird’s-eye views of Lubeck’s city center. In the foreground are the medieval Holsten Gate and several of the warehouses dating from Hanseatic League days. The gate and warehouses survived World War II bombing.

Lubeck was the lead city in the Hanseatic League, a medieval union of German trading centers. The historic center, located on an island in the Trave River, is now UNESCO protected.

View of Lubeck rooftops and a stretch of the Trave River, which surrounds the city’s historic center.

3) Rooftop views of another Hanseatic League member, Luneburg, an important trading site because it produced mountains of salt in a day when there was no refrigeration. The stuff was called “white gold.”

Above and below, differing overhead angles on the charming medieval section of Luneburg. The water tower viewing platform offers a 360-degree perspective on life below.

An early 20^th century water tower provides the 21^st century viewing platform for eying a medieval center that was not damaged in World War II. Hundreds of buildings are locally protected.

The early 20th century water tower that provides the viewing platform for bird’s-eye views of the medieval Luneburg.

The old port area of Luneburg, which is just outside the area one can see from the water tower — but it photographs so well it cannot be left out here!

For more about the region discussed here, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: In League with one another. (By the way, Hamburg was in the Hanseatic League, too.)

https://besttripchoices.com/international-touring-areas/balticnorth-sea-coasts-germany/

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

The post Germany: A bird’s-eye view appeared first on Best Trip Choices.

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I went to London to visit friends, but I cannot be underfoot at a host’s home all day every day.

So, for variety in my London experiences, I planned a few sightseeing excursions that generally wouldn’t float to the top of anyone’s must-see list. Most of my choices had American themes.

• The Benjamin Franklin House on Craven Street behind the Charing Cross railway station is the only extant building where American statesman and inventor Benjamin Franklin lived. No U.S. residence has survived, but Franklin lived in the London house for 16 years over an 18-year period before the American Revolution.

In 2001, I visited this site, but there was nothing much to show except the building itself, a Georgian structure typical for its early 18^th century origins.

It has been restored and now offers the Benjamin Franklin House Historical Experience. The experience is available five times from noon to 4:15 on Wednesdays to Sundays.

When I visited, the program involved one on-site costumed reenactor playing the daughter of Franklin’s landlady, with voiceovers for Franklin and the landlady. The aim was to tell the Franklin story in his words with various themes, and appropriate visuals, attached to each room. There was very little furniture in the rooms.

The interior of the Benjamin Franklin House in London.

Franklin was involved in so many things (as a scientist, philosopher, writer, postmaster, as well as diplomat) and so much occurred to shape American history in his life that it helps to be somewhat acquainted with the history to follow these presentations.

• My next goal was a small Christopher Wren church called St. Bride’s.

Because it is just off Fleet Street, it is called the journalists’ church, and it is full of little plaques commemorating specific deceased journalists, or plaques placed by journalism organizations or various publications, seemingly mostly print media.

Although I felt a connection to the journalism traditions here, I had come because of a quirky little feature that few know about.

I refer to a small sculpture of a child’s head meant to represent Virginia Dare, the first baby born to English parents in the New World (1587 in Roanoke, N.C.).

She with her family disappeared soon after along with everyone else in the settlement. The plaque under this sculpture did not mention that. She is remembered because her parents were married in St. Bride’s.

Sculpture meant to represent Virginia Dare, the first baby born to English parents in the New World, seen in St. Bride’s Church.

This church, which is pretty inside, is an almost-total reconstruction because Nazi bombs destroyed the previous church in 1940. This allowed archaeologists to see what was under the church, including foundations of previous churches and even a Roman walkway.

The interior of St. Bride’s Church.

• At Trafalgar Square, I found the statue of George Washington that stands in front of the National Gallery.

Statue of George Washington, which stands in front of the National Gallery on London’s Trafalgar Square.

I had read that the statue was placed on imported American soil because Washington had said he would never set foot in London again. However, he was never in London so there was no question of going again, and the gallery has no evidence supporting a claim for imported U.S. soil.

The statue, a replica of a statue in the Richmond, Va., capitol building, was the state’s gift to the U.K. on the 300^th anniversary of the 1621 founding of the Commonwealth of Virginia.

A considerably better-known attraction on London’s Trafalgar Square, St. Marin in the Fields Church.

• I walked west to 3 St. James’s Street, the site of the former embassy for Texas, briefly an independent country. The entrance to the embassy was via an alley that runs from St. James’s Street to a square at the back.

The building at No. 3 is still occupied by the wine merchant Berry Bros & Rudd, which had been the Texans’ landlord.

The wine shop that was the site of the Texas embassy, which operated in the early 1840s before Texas became a U.S. state. The embassy was behind the storefront, accessible via the darkened doorway to the left of the wine shop’s windows.

• I watched the queen ride in a horse-drawn carriage from Buckingham Palace toward Parliament where she presided at the opening of a new session of Parliament.

Seeing Queen Elizabeth was dumb luck, something that did not happen in the 19 months I lived in London in the 1990s.

While photographing Westminster Abbey and Parliament under sunny skies (rare during this trip), I learned from a bobby that the queen would make that journey the following day.

Westminster Abbey, captured while the sun shone.

Britain’s Parliament and its attached clock tower. Big Ben is the name of the 13-ton bell inside this tower. Hence, no one on the street ever really sees Big Ben — not even in great sunlight!

The next morning, I arrived — with an hour to spare — at the Mall, the broad roadway the queen would be using.

I stood at a barrier, as did everyone else. The crowds were only one-person deep. I also had fortuitously positioned myself on the side of the Mall closest to where the queen sat in her carriage.

Activities opened with horsemen, a marching band and then marching armed guards, the latter in bright red uniforms and high black furry hats. The red-jacketed men assumed their security posts, positioning themselves every few yards along the entire route.

Queen Elizabeth’s Household Calvary, preceding her as she rode to Parliament.

Men in Queen Elizabeth’s security detail on the day she rode to Parliament.

Next up was the fully escorted carriage carrying the crown.

Then, promptly at 11 a.m., the queen’s carriage left the palace; she traveled past us at a pretty good clip, too. Apparently, Prince Philip was in the carriage, as well, though I could not tell.

Queen Elizabeth II, seen waving a gloved hand, rides in her carriage to Parliament.

The woman standing next to me said her husband was one of the men on the first carriage. She identified Princess Anne as the woman in one of two open-topped carriages that followed the queen.

Then, this event was suddenly over, in good time for me to make my flight that afternoon.

For more about London, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: A great walking city

https://besttripchoices.com/international-cities/london-england/

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

The post England: Seeing America (and a queen) in London appeared first on Best Trip Choices.

Dramatic view from the perched Taormina takes in parts of the winding road we drove to get to the town, plus a little of the Mediterranean.

We instructed our GPS to lead us to Taormina’s ancient Greek theater, figuring this would take us to parking within walking distance of the theater and other points of interest.

The Greek theater in Taormina, one of the top reason tourists visit the town — besides the town’s dramatic hilltop setting at the sea’s edge. Audience members in this theater, which has new seating for modern usage, can see the volcano, Mount Etna, in the distance.

However, we hadn’t realized that much of the city’s touristic area was pedestrianized. The GPS tried to send us right down a pedestrian-only street, but we had to turn away. This got us lost and then stuck in a cul de sac with absolutely no discernible way to turn around.

The other exit, in front of us, was stair steps. Oops.

Fortunately, a local driver appeared and offered to help. There was a parking lot behind us that we could not access because of a barricade (a pole with a lock). Our rescuer had the key and he removed the pole.

He backed our car into the parking lot, turned it around there, backed it out into the cul de sac, leaving the car pointed in the correct direction to make an exit.

He directed us to a perfectly located parking lot.

The Piazza IX Aprile, part of the pedestrian-only access route to Taormina’s Greek theater. The walking street, called Corso Umberto I, is a popular shopping area for visitors.

Santa Caterina church, left, and the Palazzo Carvaja, also on the pedestrianized route to Taormina’s Greek theater. Our GPS would have sent us right into this no-car zone.

Brightly colored fruit stand seen along Corso Umberto I in Taormina.

This adventure occurred about half way into a nine-day trip to Sicily, off the boot of Italy. The three of us had picked up our prebooked Budget rental car at the Palermo airport (FYI, there were scads of rental companies at the terminal).

We had some road maps but relied heavily on a cellphone GPS program. Nevertheless, we made mistakes, as above.

Furthermore, driving in Sicily’s hilltop towns really concentrates the mind.

I recall, for example, when we had trouble getting out of a tight spot — in Piazza Armerina, a hill town in the middle of Sicily.

Our accommodation, on a tiny piazza of sorts, was accessible by driving through an alarmingly narrow passage framed by stone walls, followed by a sharp right turn.

A difficult-to-navigate area in Piazza Armerina. The car seen above is driving through the narrow passage that we remember well. A woman stepped out of her house to help us maneuver our vehicle in order to enter this passage without causing damage.

Partial view of our compact car at right. It stands in front of the apartment where my friends and I stayed in Piazza Armerina. Photo by Judy Lemberger.

Exiting our little square proved more difficult. The car had to make a wide arc for the left turn. A woman stepped out of her house to direct us into this tiny passage.

Then, things got tougher. Leaving town (en route to the third/fourth century Villa Romana) meant dealing with awfully sharp turns and steep downward passages.

We missed one of those downward V-shaped left turns and found ourselves at a high-altitude dead end, essentially someone’s driveway, with a nasty cliffside drop behind us. Getting out of there involved a hair-raising turn-around adjacent to said driveway.

Much-loved Roman-era mosaic of women athletes dressed in what look like modern bikinis. This is part of an astonishing collection of mosaics at the third/fourth century Villa Romana a few miles outside Piazza Armerina.

A scene from the largest mosaic at the Villa Romana. The mosaic extended the length of a corridor about 180 feet long and illustrated the capture of wild animals to bring to Rome.

Tourists taking in the preserved mosaics at the Villa Romana. We drove through and overnighted at Piazza Armerina to be in position for an early-morning visit to the villa, ahead of the crowds.

Also, our GPS failed us once. We confirmed that it was programmed correctly to take us to the Monreale Duomo just outside of Palermo. But it delivered us, through the most congested traffic of our trip, to a different church in an iffy part of Palermo.

So we dropped the car at the airport (planned for that day anyway) and I later used a tour bus to see Monreale’s cathedral. See https://besttripchoices.com/my-travel-corner/sicily-the-mosaics-of-monreale/ for more on that.

My last anecdote is a lot funnier in hindsight. At Agrigento, in southern Sicily, we left our car in a parking lot adjacent to the Valley of the Temples.

This lot, dotted with trees, looked to be a repurposed orchard. Ropes served as partitions. But, there was an automated entry-and-exit system. Machines spit out timed parking tickets; customers paid parking fees to a human when about to depart, then fed the stamped tickets into the machines before exiting.

When we wanted to leave, the system was not working, but no one would (or could?) permit customers holding paid-up tickets to depart.

Several cars waited so long that they were in the lot past the time they had paid for. So, the guy who collected parking fees started asking for more money from customers who had been trapped!

This triggered a screaming fight. When the machines were fixed, or disabled, we left. No one had to fork over more money.

Temple of Concord at the Valley of the Temples at Agrigento. This temple is the model for the UNESCO logo.

Above and below, two views of the Temple of Hera at the Valley of the Temples at Agrigento.

We paid for parking at several sightseeing locations, but in most cases, we snagged hotels that included free parking.

This did not always mean convenient parking. At a couple of hill towns (Cefalu and Erice), we were instructed in advance to park in specific places, then were picked up and driven to our accommodations.

At this point, it may sound as if a driving tour of Sicily was a bad idea. Think again. We valued our options to stop on a whim or to tweak the itinerary as we went.

Our trio included someone who likes to drive, even in Italy, and who is steely cool in tight situations.

Hill towns we did not visit but could see from other hill towns. It’s easy to surmise why sometimes visitors are well advised to park their cars before reaching the center of a Sicilian hill town. Above is Calascibetta seen from Enna. Below is Castelmola, visible from highest seats in the Greek theater at Taormina.

Although driving in hill towns could be tough or plain impossible, we had good roads elsewhere, including most of the winding mountain routes.

The total cost was good, too, even after adding on probably too much insurance and after paying Budget an exorbitant amount to top up the gas tank at the end (we couldn’t find a gas station near our drop-off point).

We had the car (a compact with standard shift) seven days (we did not need it in Palermo) and spent roughly $635 for rental, insurance, gas and parking, split three ways.

Best of all, locals were helpful, as anecdotes above illustrate. Others volunteered assistance with a malfunctioning parking kiosk and, later, at a self-service gas station.

Yes, Sicily was worth the drive.

For more about Sicily, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: The Mafia and a mountain

https://besttripchoices.com/international-touring-areas/sicily-italy/

This blog is by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.” Photos also are by Nadine Godwin except where otherwise indicated.

The post Sicily: Taking the wheel appeared first on Best Trip Choices.

On arrival in Palermo, my hotel’s manager, Giuseppe, recommended restaurants (it was lunchtime) and gave advice for getting to Monreale. He suggested skipping public transportation in favor of one of several bus services that carry tourists to and from Monreale a few miles south of the city.

I was traveling with two friends. They were more interested in lunch and in-town activities. I left them and, per Giuseppe’s advice, walked to a spot directly behind the city’s 11^th century Norman castle (now used by the Sicilian Parliament) looking for tour buses.

At least three companies provide regular tourist runs from central Palermo to Monreale. I bought a ticket (10 euros) for the first bus I found, which was set to leave soon. I was very lucky.

The Monreale-bound bus had only three passengers, plus driver and a hostess who provided some narration along the route.

My bus, like those operated by other travel companies, deposited its passengers at a point fairly close to the cathedral but with some uphill walking required (roughly 10 minutes) to the cathedral entry.

The town of Monreale and its cathedral are perched about a thousand feet above sea level. The walks to and from the church offered great views over the valley below (known for its fertility — almond, olive and orange trees) and, beyond that, the city of Palermo and its harbor.

View of Palermo and the Mediterranean Sea from the hilltop town of Monreale, Sicily.

My bus and the hostess stayed in place for one hour, which gave me 40 minutes inside and around the cathedral, after allowing for the 10-minute walks each way. That was not much time for a spectacular church interior, but I was glad to get there at all.

This was all about a Norman cathedral (with Arab and Byzantine influences, my guidebook and local printed materials said) that dates from the late 12^th century. The cathedral’s rather plain-looking front faced Piazza Guglielmo II, a charming square with the de rigueur outdoor cafes soaked in sunshine.

The Monreale Cathedral’s relatively plain-Jane front.

The Piazza Guglielmo II, site of the Monreale Cathedral.

Surprisingly, it was the cathedral’s backside, the apse exterior, that was showy. Blind arches were vivid and ornate because builders used inlay techniques with marble and tufa of various colors to good effect.

Decorative exterior of the Monreale Cathedral apse.

But the inside! Enter and let your jaw drop.

Here were 6,400 square meters, or more than 68,000 square feet, of mosaics covering every surface of the interior, meaning all of the surfaces above the marble (maybe 10 feet high) that lined the walls from the floor up.

Builders used the mosaics to tell Biblical stories in bright-colored glass pieces. The figures were set against a gold background (meaning gold leaf on glass). The Old Testament stories were featured in the nave, with stories of Christ’s life in the aisles and transept.

Above and below, stories from the Old Testament depicted in thousands of square feet of mosaics.

But, the gold was particularly vivid in the apse, meaning the space around and encompassing the altar. I paid the 2.50 euros to visit this extraordinary section. This was my only on-site expense. Entry to the cathedral was free, and I did not have time for more options that involved fees, such as walking around on the top of the roof for the views or finding the cloister and its gardens.

In the apse, there was a huge mosaic of Christ (the Christ Pantocrator, meaning Ruler of All) overhead and, below that, mosaics of numerous disciples and saints.

Mosaic of the Christ Pantocrator, the centerpiece in the apse in the Monreale Cathedral.

A closer look at the disciples and saints depicted below and to the sides of the Christ Pantocrator in the apse at the Monreale Cathedral.

This was the same setup as I had seen previously at the cathedral in another nearby town, Cefalu. In fact, both cathedrals are part of the same UNESCO-protected group, called “Arab-Norman Palermo and the Cathedral Churches of Cefalu and Monreale.”

Monreale’s cathedral ceiling and beams were gilded wood.

The Monreale Cathedral’s golden mosaic-covered apse plus details of the decorative ceiling over the choir.

Sights also included the tombs of two Norman kings of Sicily, William I and William II. In accompanying signage, they were identified as William the Bad and William the Good, respectively. Also, their tombs were a dark reddish brown and creamy white, respectively.

Inside the Monreale Cathedral, the tomb of Sicily’s King William I, aka William the Bad.

I spent much of my 40 minutes inside the cathedral, trying to see as many of the figures as possible, and really would have loved to walk into the cloister. I saved a few minutes to walk around the very decorative back of the church before returning to the bus.

Two of the scores of scenes portrayed in mosaics inside the Monreale Cathedral.

Overall view of the cathedral sanctuary showing how comprehensively the interior has been covered with mosaics.

For my return to Palermo, the bus left at its appointed time. The operator’s flyer said the company (ProntoBus Sicilia) takes two buses to Monreale each day, one in the morning plus my afternoon journey. But the on-board hostess said the afternoon run was the only one.

Whatever the truth, it was a clear case of dumb luck that I showed up about 20 minutes before this firm’s only afternoon departure.

On the day of my visit, two other tour companies dropped passengers in the hill town at about the same time: CitySightseeing Palermo and Open ArTour Palermo. To save me, when I try researching Palermo-Monreale transportation options, I cannot find an Internet site that lists these companies. However, it is easy to find info about the public buses.

I was hungry after my lunch-free outing, so grabbed a gelato to prevent starvation, but was really up for a nice dinner.

Which brings me to one of our hotelier’s recommended restaurants. It was called Il Mirto e La Rosa, and it was a short walk from our lodgings. The interior featured high arches with books and (fake) roses hanging from them. It did not disappoint, serving up one of many good meals in Sicily (fish and pasta this time) with Sicilian wine. This was one very busy restaurant, too.

Interior of Palermo’s Il Mirto e LaRosa restaurant with books and (fake) roses hanging from the ceiling.

For more about Sicily, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: The Mafia and a mountain

https://besttripchoices.com/international-touring-areas/sicily-italy/

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

The post Sicily: The mosaics of Monreale appeared first on Best Trip Choices.

Officials from TurismoChile and the Santiago airport are well aware of the issue and striving for solutions. (Also, for those of us who visit, avoiding the scam is a lot easier if we know that the problem exists.)

Later, I was also witness to a brilliant cure for this problem at the airport in Guadalajara, Mexico. When I arrived in June, I needed a transfer to Ajijic, a town about 30 minutes’ drive away. I picked up my checked bag and, while still inside the baggage claim area, I found an official taxi desk. I paid for a voucher (set price to Ajijic: 420 pesos/$22-$23 dollars when I visited). Beyond the baggage claim area and near the building’s exit, there was another official taxi desk.

Once outside the building, I walked to the cab line and the dispatcher directed me to a driver, who spoke English (this would not always be the case). The driver took the voucher, loaded my bags and we were off. I tipped the driver at trip’s end.

My destination

I was visiting Ajijic, a small town south of Guadalajara, because a friend lives there. It is 5,000-plus feet above sea level with a semi-desert climate and is one of several towns on the shores of Lake Chalapa, Mexico’s largest freshwater lake, and surrounded by the Sierra Madre Mountains. Those characteristics — comfortable climate and lake views — go far to explain why Ajijic and neighboring towns count among their residents thousands of American and Canadian ex-pats, many of whom are retirees.

Immediately noticeable, streets in Ajijic are awfully bumpy. I gather real estate agents call the surfaces “charming cobblestones” — actually, they are cobblestones, but look for the charm elsewhere (see the photos!).

On the other hand, if trees are located where a road is meant to go, workers don’t cut the trees down. The trees are saved and the roads go around them! That seems very humane to me. Probably wise, too, to preserve shade and prevent erosion.

Residential streets are lined with walled villas, sometimes painted quite creatively, but those walls offer little info about what the houses look like.

One home and its encircling wall in Ajijic’s residential area.

Ajijic wall mostly hides a residence but not the owner’s music preferences.

Speaking of paint jobs: Building exteriors, very visible in the commercial heart of town, are nothing like the generally discreet or earthy tones back home.

My hostess took me on an ad hoc driving tour on the small streets near the town center. I loved seeing and photographing the colorful houses and shops lining those streets; the cafes and other buildings on the central square were attention grabbers, too. Wall art, murals and the like were abundant, as was the graffiti.

Ajijic shop invites its prospective customers with a lot of creativity.

Above and below, almost any Ajijic wall seems to be a painter’s canvas, good for cheerful or humorous themes, fantasies or scenes to memorialize local traditions.

Mural by Ajijic native, Javier Zaragoza, depicts the area’s indigenous settlers participating in a spring celebration at which they asked their gods for abundant rains to ensure good crops. Zaragoza used local villagers with indigenous features as his models.

Mealtime settings tended to be scenic, and eateries generally offered indoor/outdoor options.

On day one, we lunched at the restaurant inside a boutique hotel, La Nueva Posada, on Lake Chalapa, gazing across the water with the Sierra Madre looming hazily in the background. The interior fixings were as colorful as those bright exterior paint jobs I’ve been exclaiming over.

Bright sideboard seen adjacent to the outdoor eating space at La Nueva Posada, a boutique hotel.

At the next day’s lunch site, Jardin Plaza Restaurant, we sat outside with views of idiosyncratic sculptures in the town’s central square, exterior wall art and a lineup of vivid paintings, no doubt for sale. Even a nearby tree was turned into art, day-of-the-dead style.

Artwork seen in Ajijic’s central plaza.

Paintings, presumably for sale, on display in Ajijic’s central town square.

Even a tree near Ajijic’s central square features artwork, in this case, with a Day of the Dead theme.

The Day of the Dead is the theme on this Ajijic door, too.

The souvenirs, too, advertised themselves with a lot of flash. I bought a plate (blue, gold, rust/geometric design), then a small bowl (blue, green, yellow/floral motifs), that I did not need — but don’t regret.

Vibrantly colored ceramics offered for sale, including large water dispensers used in the home. To be sure, my ceramic souvenirs were smaller!

The exuberant colors are what pop into my mind first when remembering this Mexican sojourn. I realize the bright and often-artistic paint jobs are not unique to Ajijic, but I don’t often visit Mexico.

These were lazy days in Ajijic, touristic in fits and starts. But I was happy to join a coach trip to Guadalajara, about an hour’s drive each way, to hear a concert in the Teatro Degollado. It faces the large Plaza de la Liberacion with the cathedral at the other end.

The Guadalajara Cathedral with fountain in the foreground.

I flew into super-tourist mode for a quick photographic turn, fortunately under great light and clear skies, to get shots of the cathedral and the plaza, with fountain, in front of it. Of course, this just barely counts as a visit to Guadalajara, but at least I snatched a glimpse.

The Governor’s Palace, which sits on the Plaza de la Liberacion in Guadalajara.

The Jalisco State Judiciary in Guadalajara.

St. Augustine Church, located across from the Teatro Degollado in Guadalajara.

For more about Mexico, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: From Mayan temple to beach resort   https://besttripchoices.com/international-countries/mexico

This blog and its photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

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The hilltop Erice offers sweeping views of Sicilian countryside as well as the island’s coast and the Mediterranean Sea.

The historic heart of Erice sits 2,464 feet above sea level atop Monte San Giuliano and is accessible by car, as well as aboard a cable car from the nearby port city of Trapani.

I booked accommodations (Erice Pietre Antiche), then called the manager, Massimo, from New York for advice on driving routes. He asked for a call (or text or e-mail) a day in advance with an estimated time of arrival. At that point, he would tell us (my two companions and me) where in Erice to meet him and provide directions.

He would be at the appointed location (the Piazza Carmine which abuts Porta Carmine, one of three medieval city gates), help us park for free and then drive us, with luggage, to our accommodations. We weren’t permitted to drive further into town, but he could because he does business in Erice.

As for driving to town, he said, “definitely, don’t take the SP3,” but he judged a second route from Trapani and another from Valderice to be good choices. Ours was the Valderice route. It provided a good road, fortunately, given it involved eight hairpin turns plus other sharp turns — and climbing, climbing, climbing. I could not look down.

View of hairpin turns that were part of a dramatic drive to the Italian hill town, Erice, in Sicily.

As promised, Massimo drove us to our housing, which was a neat two-bedroom apartment. For astonishingly efficient use of space, our kitchenette sat inside an armoire!!

Kitchenette in an amoire, at our two-bedroom apartment in Erice. Our unit faced a courtyard shared with three other apartments.

Massimo provided town maps plus restaurant recommendations, after which we hastened to lunch for the best-ever pizza at La Rustichella.

The post-lunch walkabout began at 4 p.m., and we headed straight to the hill town’s southeast corner to see the 12^th century Norman castle (Castello di Venere), the gardens next to it and views of the shoreline, fields and houses below; those views included the hairpin road we had just traveled.

Above and below, views of the 12th century Norman castle, Castello di Venere. It was used later by Spanish overlords in Sicily, as well.

With more time, we could have gone onto the castle grounds to see, besides the castle at close range, the ruins of the ancient Temple of Venus Erycina, a Phoenician house and a Roman bath. Erice has been inhabited a long time!

But, we continued in the effort to see the prime sites of touristic interest while the sun still shone (and we were less likely to get lost). Fortunately, these sites were on the southerly side of this rock, granting us unencumbered light for as long as an October day allowed.

The 14^th century cathedral, on Erice’s southwest corner, looked weathered and unrefined — my guidebook called it austere — but sat next to a nice campanile.

Above, the Erice Cathedral and its campanile. Below, a closer view of the 14th century cathedral, which my guidebook called austere.

Between the castle and the cathedral, we walked the Via Conte Pepoli. Here one of my friends bought a small cotton rag rug, in earth tones, for 30 euros. These rugs are a traditional craft in Erice, little did we know.

Above and below, scenes on Erice’s Via Conte Pepoli.

Cotton rag rug purchased in Erice. Photo by Edward Pyle.

We came to the cathedral by passing through one of the town’s gates, the Porta Trapani. A simple affair, it was in surprisingly good condition considering its age.

Porta Trapani, one of three surviving medieval gates at Erice, located near the cathedral.

The gates are part of surviving walls that stretch around the northern and western sides. Per my Eyewitness Travel guidebook, the bottom sections date from the Phoenicians, but the Normans built the top parts and the gates.

Massimo said Erice retains its medieval street layout. After we roamed the narrow streets, I was convinced the stones we walked on were equally old! Stones were smooth from use, but not level. Many of Erice’s very low-rise buildings were built of stones that looked awfully old, too.

One of Erice’s medieval streets, bracketed by low-rise stone houses, paved with well-worn stones and made still more evocative of other eras with a religious icon at the top of its overpass.

San Giuliano Church, a charming pink-hued church in the middle of Erice and carrying the same name as the mountain where it sits.

This was a late-October visit and most Sicilian temperatures were comfortable, but at the higher-altitude Erice, my friends and I were chilly much of the day until we discovered the heaters in our apartment!

Dinner was at an eatery named for Erice’s mountain site, Monte San Giuliano. To get there, we descended outdoor steps, walked through courtyards behind several buildings, then into the eatery. Dinner included an appealing pasta we had never heard of; called busiate, it looked something like twisted spaghetti.

The dining room at the Monte San Guiliano restaurant, where we savored the busiate pasta, a new one for us.

After dinner, with the summer peak season past, Erice was deadsville (though, it should be noted, tourists by the score still make day visits in autumn).

Massimo said there are fewer than 300 year-round residents in the Erice hilltop center, but up to 5,000 in high season when people from Trapani stay at their summer homes. He said there were 5,000 to 6,000 year-round residents 80 years ago.

Departure from Erice early the next day was the mirror image of our arrival. Massimo drove us to our car, after which we retraced our winding arrival journey, eight hairpins and all.

Now we know the mechanics of an Erice visit, we need another — to explore interiors (museums, castle, cathedral), get serious about shopping and get even more serious about whiling away hours in outdoor cafes on the piazzas.

Restaurants are abundant in the tiny Erice, with outdoor seating as space and weather permit. Above and below, a few samples. Below, the eateries sit on, first, Piazza San Domenico and, below that, Piazza Umberto I.

For more about Sicily, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: The Mafia and a mountain

https://besttripchoices.com/international-touring-areas/sicily-italy/

This blog is by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.” Photos are by Nadine Godwin, except when otherwise indicated.

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The horse and I were traversing a unique environment. The Atacama Desert, in northern Chile, is the world’s driest — some parts have never experienced a recorded rainfall — and it sits more than 10,000 feet above sea level.

This desert attracts tourists for its salt flats and their flamingos, a salt mountain range, saltwater pools, hot springs, geysers — and for stargazing in remarkably clear skies. The wildlife is nice, too.

Geysers in action, seen in the early-morning hours at Tatio Geysers, the central feature of a very popular excursion offered by most resorts and tour companies in San Pedro.

Two vicunas spotted roaming near the Tatio Geysers. The animals also successfully negotiated strolls among the active geysers, areas we humans could not be trusted to traverse.

Tourists — the more active kind — also come for cycling, trekking, mountain climbing as well as horseback riding.

My ride couldn’t be called overly active. It took me across the sands, up and down a couple of dunes, even across a river (very shallow) and up a tiny mountain (I could have walked it faster).

Rocky terrain rises dramatically before us, providing a modest sample of the scenery in the high-altitude Atacama Desert.

That was exciting enough for me, but, on the Atacama, serious riders have much more exotic options and could spend a lot of hours astride a horse.

Here is the deal:

In my capacity as a writer for a travel trade paper, I was a guest in April, along with other travel professionals, at Explora Atacama, an inclusive resort for active travelers who also like fine dining, nice wines and other comforts.

An outdoor dining option at Explora Atacama.

One of four swimming pools on the grounds at Explora Atacama.

The resort sits on 42 acres at the outskirts — but in walking distance of — the oasis town San Pedro de Atacama. It also is meant as a retreat, meaning no TV in rooms, and WiFi only in public areas.

Area stables offer horses for riding excursions, but Explora is unique in that it owns its own mounts, 24 of them. Its stables are in plain view. We had to drive past the horses to get to the property’s main building and the check-in desk. The animals are specially bred for easy handling and for life in the Atacama’s high altitude.

The easy-handling part is important for someone like me. I was told my horse, Salvador, is a top choice for the children who ride at Explora (I refuse to blush).

A couple of the Explora Atacama horses at ease after our morning riding excursion. Salvador is not in the photo. Sadly, I did not get a good shot of him.

However, Explora offers its guests a choice of 11 riding excursions, each limited to eight riders, and each designated as easy, moderate or expert, and all either a half-day or full-day outing. The most ambitious takes riders 10,170 feet above sea level in the Domeyko Mountains, passing an old mining settlement, providing views of ancient petroglyphs and entering an area famed for cave art.

Explora Atacama currently lists 44 excursions available to its guests. Those who live and breath horses can turn a stay into a riding vacation but it’s worth considering some of the numerous other choices.

Explora’s prices are inclusive and, in this case, that means all 44 activities are included in the rates, as are airport transfers from and to Calama, about an hour away; all meals and drinks, except for premium wines; use of swimming pools, saunas and Jacuzzis; plus guided stargazing using the property’s high-powered telescope. Massages are extra.

Public spaces, with wall maps of interest to the venturesome, inside the Explora Atacama.

A veranda wraps around the public spaces at the Explora Atacama.

Nevertheless, choosing Explora is one of the pricier ways to see the Atacama. Rates start at $2,125 per person, double, for the minimum three-night stay.

There are other options utilizing area travel companies that provide all sorts of tours including riding excursions. There also are several not-so-upscale hotels in San Pedro. I passed by the courtyards of a few in-town hotels but did not enter any.

I walked around San Pedro, which charms with its low-rise adobe buildings painted white, a historic church and the attractive goods offered in numerous souvenir shops.

San Pedro’s church as it appeared this year, after it was refurbished and restored to its original natural reddish brown adobe.

I had explored San Pedro in 2012 as well. Not much had changed, except the church, which was white five years ago. It has been refurbished and restored to look much as it had when built. Authentic is good. White makes better photos. Just my opinion.

San Pedro’s church as it appeared in 2012. The church was white but the sky was less bright or, put differently, more dramatic.

For more about Chile, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: A long country https://besttripchoices.com/international-countries/chile/

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.” An earlier version of this blog is found at https://writinghorseback.com.

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The city’s cathedral, a gothic confection built between the 13^th and 15^th centuries, was the setting for 19 of those coronations; a stone on its floor identifies its site as the place were Clovis, the founder of the original Frankish kingdom, was baptized around 500 A.D.

The approach to Reims Cathedral on a sunny October day. Construction on the cathedral began early in the 13th century, and it was the site of royal coronations beginning in 1223 (King Louis VIII).

For a wildly different distinction, Reims also is where the Germans signed papers surrendering unconditionally to end World War II in Europe.

On my most recent visit to Paris in October 2016, I settled on Reims for a day trip from the French capital. It had the history, which promised several touristic attracts of interest, and it was close enough to manage easily in a day.

Reims is in the Champagne wine region, which means, naturally, wine tours and tastings featuring champagne. Pursuing this seriously would require more than a day trip (in my opinion anyway). There are tastings options in Reims itself, too, but given I don’t care for champagne, I did not take time for that.

My journey began and ended on trains out of and back to Gare de l’Est in Paris, aboard the high-speed TGV, producing trips of about 45 minutes each. There are other considerably cheaper options, but they take longer and can involve train changes.

The Reims city center is a short walk from the train station, and station personnel, upon request, will provide a city map that usefully indicates a walking route for visitors. I relied on it.

A couple of attractions are Roman, the Mars Gate, a triumphal arch from around 200 A.D., plus a cryptoporticus, or underground passageway, dating from the third century. The underground space is open to visitors in summer, which means I did not see it.

What I did see was a gorgeous city hall, pretty town squares (especially Place Royale), plus a few houses dating from the 13^th and later centuries that are now museums. Two houses were described on plaques as middle class homes, but looked to me to be several cuts above that, certainly by the standards of the relevant time period.

The gorgeous Reims city hall, built in the 17th and 19th centuries, then reconstructed after its destruction during World War I.

The Vergeur museum (Musee Hotel le Vergeur), described on a plaque as a former middle class home. Now a museum, it dates from the 13th and 16th centuries.

Small houses seen at one side of the Reims Cathedral.

I would have enjoyed visits to their interiors, but with only a few hours and sun-drenched autumn scenes outdoors, I reserved my indoor sightseeing for the cathedral, an attached museum (former bishop’s palace) and the older St. Remi Basilica, which dates from the 11^th century.

The cathedral, an outstanding example of gothic architecture, doesn’t look like a building that was in ruins at the end of World War I; its restoration was hugely aided by Rockefeller Foundation contributions. It is notable for the countless sculptures on the exterior and for its rose windows, best seen from the sanctuary on a sunny day in the late afternoon. I studied those windows, watching their vivid reds and blues, which seemed alive in the way of kaleidoscopes.

The cathedral was undergoing some maintenance including cleaning. There was a barricade blocking views of the facade, but fortunately, only around the central of three big doors, something that could be cropped out of most photos. Also, there was lots of scaffolding and shrouding at the back of the cathedral.

Parts of the front are newly cleaned and parts still quite dark, which produced an odd effect.

A Reims Cathedral photo showing which parts of the facade have been cleaned and which have not. The barricade blocking off a working area at the cathedral’s main door is visible at lower right.

Not wanting to dawdle over a long lunch, I settled into the square that fronts the cathedral with an ice cream cone in hand, a supremely relaxing way to enjoy the cathedral’s grandeur, the lusciously colored autumn leaves and the perfect weather.

The indisputably gorgeous Reims Cathedral, enhanced with a touch of autumn color at right.

An over-the-top combo of fall colors and medieval gothic cathedral.

Loitering in a great environment is restorative, but I wanted to see the St. Remi Basilica, which once served an attached and still-standing abbey, now a museum. Among other things, the basilica is known for the tomb of St. Remi (or St. Remigius), the man credited with bringing the Frankish king, Clovis, to Christianity. Much of the basilica also was reconstructed after World War I.

Exterior of Reims’ St. Remi Basilica, a structure that dates from the 11th century though much changed over the years.

In some ways, the basilica’s collection of stained-glass windows, including those from the 12th century, is more striking than the group at the cathedral. The collection boasts modern examples, too.

View of the apse and the numerous stained-glass windows in St. Remi Basilica.

Modern stained-glass windows seen in St. Remi Basilica.

Tomb of St. Remi (St. Remigius), located in the St. Remi Basilica’s apse. The basilica’s long nave recedes in the background, at right.

From here, my strolls were pointed toward the train station, but I wasn’t leaving just yet. I was surprised to pass by a Carnegie library, a quite pretty circular building located behind the cathedral.

I had to see the cathedral’s windows again (the late-day light yielded more vivid colors) and eat a second ice cream cone (what’s better than one cone? make that two).

Rose window seen in the Reims Cathedral — but photos don’t do justice to the vivid colors of the cathedral’s windows when they are facing full late-day sun.

Details of Reims Cathedral, revealing the facade in extravagant detail.

And, now it was time for a drop by at the former bishop’s residence, Tau Palace, to look at the cathedral’s treasury, several historic tapestries and some of the cathedral’s original statuary, now protected indoors.

The banquet hall in the Tau Palace, former home to bishops.

Finally, time ran out, but somehow I had overlooked a rather obvious statue of the mounted Joan of Arc. Maybe I could use that as my excuse to return — as if I needed one.

For more about France, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: S’il vous plait

https://besttripchoices.com/international-countries/france/

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

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In 1976, I was one of a handful of press accompanying the American Society of Travel Agents (ASTA) to a meeting held in Dubrovnik. Some of the agents and press participated in a sightseeing program offered by our Yugoslavian hosts.

This included time in Cilipi, where locals, in traditional dress, played musical instruments, presented a dance program and lined up behind small tables to sell locally made souvenirs.

Entertainers prepare to perform for visiting Americans in Cilipi’s central square in 1976.

The dance program is under way in the Cilipi town square.

Young Cilipi women in traditional clothes for their region of the then Yugoslavia offer pottery and other goods for sale.

Cilipi woman sell another specialty, embroidered tablecloths.

After the initial demonstration of folk dances, the entertainers invited visitors were invited to join the fun, and I have photos of me, in a business suit, dancing with one of our hosts.

And, after the official program has concluded, visitors dance in the square, too, including the author, seen at center in a gray business suit.

It was a typical staged performance for visiting foreign tourists.

The second visit, in 1993, occurred after Croatia’s 1991-1992 war for independence from the former Yugoslavia, at a time when there were no tourists.

I was among a group of trade and consumer press on a trip sponsored by the Rebuild Dubrovnik Fund, a project initiated by ASTA, and Dubrovnik-based Atlas Travel. The industry was playing a part in helping rebuild a UNESCO heritage site as well as the tourism business on which so many depended. Press were there to describe the situation for travel agents and prospective travelers. We were joined by BBC newscaster Martin Bell, who had been covering the fighting in Bosnia.

Dubrovnik suffered damage, but area villages — easier to attack — were devastated.

At Cilipi, 60% of homes were uninhabitable. Except for the church and one house, all buildings on the town square were gutted, and only 400 of 1,000 residents were living there.

The Cilipi buildings, which could be seen in the background when we watched dancers perform in 1976, as they appeared in 1993. The ditch that had been dug across the central square is visible in the foreground.

No doubt, it would have looked even worse if the buildings hadn’t been made of stone, but it was a sad scene. The only consolation was stumbling upon a group of young volunteers, mostly from Australia and New Zealand, who had come at their own expense to work for a month in this town. They were digging a trench right across the square to restore a drainage system, and they seemed dedicated to their project.

BBC newscaster Martin Bell (center) interviews one of the volunteers assisting with recovery at Cilipi in 1993.

In spring 2016, I accepted an assignment from Travel Weekly, the travel trade newspaper, to check out the new Viking Sea (part of the Viking Ocean Cruises’ growing fleet) on its inaugural sailing from Istanbul to Venice. This included a port call at Dubrovnik, and I leapt at the chance to revisit Cilipi, which appeared on one of the optional excursions.

However, the visit wasn’t what I had envisioned. The village was one of three on an itinerary called Flavors and Traditions of Old Croatia, and, as it turned out, all the action was centered on rural family businesses. None of the three village centers were part of the plan — although I asked for the chance to take a third set of photos at the heart of Cilipi where the buildings are whole again and pristine.

The same Cilipi buildings, now restored, seen on a rainy April afternoon in 2016. The pillars at the front entrance of the building at center, and visible in the top photo here, were not saved.

It seems that my 1976 and 2016 experiences, with a lot of years in between, inadvertently illustrated evolving tourist interests in more meaningful contacts with the cultures and people visited while on holiday.

Our Viking Sea group watched an olive grower demonstrate old ways of pressing olives, using a horse-powered mill and, second, a manually operated press. We had quite a discussion, too, about the meaning of cold press and extra virgin olive oil. He said extra virgin oil is to be preferred because contains no or very little amino acid.

At the second stop, we watched old ways of milling grain and fulling wool, both dependent on a fast-moving river and waterwheels. A young host outlined how his forebears used water and a watermill to make wool fabric waterproof. It seems counterintuitive to be using water, but it works when the fabric is made by combining sheep’s wool with some goat hair, which is oilier.

The Cilipi piece of this was lunch in a home, an authorized agribusiness, where much of the ground floor is set aside to host tour groups. Two folk singers entertained. We had brief tours of family gardens, the source of fresh foods served to visitors.

During the day’s sightseeing, we had options to buy our hosts’ products — olive oil and other foodstuffs. As a result, some participants literally carried tastes of Croatia home in their luggage.

The Novakovic family farmhouse in Cilipi where passengers on the Viking Sea were hosted to lunch on an April day. The garden is seen in the foreground.

Millstones, at right, and a manually operated olive press, at left, set up as a display for visiting tourists at the Novakovic family farmhouse in Cilipi. The equipment is the same as that demonstrated early in the sightseeing itinerary for Viking Sea passengers. For the first, cold press of olives, the millstones would be pulled by a horse. The press at left would have been used with hot water to tease still more oil out of the olives.

For more about Croatia, we offer at BestTripChoices.com the following, under the headline: A young old country    https://besttripchoices.com/international-countries/croatia/

This blog and photos (except one with the author in it) are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.”

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That’s the truncated description. Now, I will take this from the top, as follows:

I traveled with several travel agents and one other journalist on a familiarization trip to Georgia, the country. The itinerary included an excursion to Kakheti, the country’s top winemaking region, east of Tbilisi, and Sighnaghi is there.

Soviet-era bas-relief panels, celebrating wine, at the entrance to Sighnaghi.

We first walked through the village, home to about 3,000 people, with houses mostly from the 17^th and 18^th centuries. One host said Sighnaghi is “called the city of love because of its beauty,” and it certainly is striking. But the most noticeable feature is the near-vertical nature of the streets! At one square, we noted an apparently standard way of getting around — on what look like four-wheel scooters.

Balconies seen at dusk, a typical architectural detail on Sighnaghi houses.

A handy way to navigate the steep up-and-down streets of Sighnaghi.

With the sun setting rapidly, we walked — up a steep hill, of course — to Pheasant’s Tears, a winery that produces artisanal natural wines using ancient Georgian traditions. It also provides some restaurant services; we sat at a single long table and were the only guests. The singers — a male quartet — shared the table, food and wine with us.

The winery and restaurant owners are American John Wurdeman and his Georgian wife, but they were not present. In their stead, Donovan Arthen, an American polyphonic singer turned wine importer, acted as the host. Donovan said he would be in Georgia seven months, learning more about Georgian wines.

Food: The opening plates for our meal included cheeses, salad, eggplant, beets, beans, greens, spicy chicken and fries. Some dishes were prepared using ground walnuts, a typical Georgian food ingredient.

The meal included foraged mushrooms, using the caps, cooked with herbs and in butter or some kind of oil, but without the cheese at the center that some Georgian cooks include. The menu of several courses included meat, as well.

Donovan said a meal like ours with many courses would be less than $20.

The setup for dinner at Pheasant’s Tears.

Wine: First, know that Georgia — which counts more than 500 indigenous grape varieties — claims to be the place where winemaking was born around 8,000 years ago although some scholars credit other locations in the vicinity.

Regardless of who got to the starting line first, winemaking, using millennia-old methods, is alive and well in Georgia.

Making wines the traditional way involves aging the crushed grapes with their seeds and skins in clay jars buried in the ground for about nine months. The jars are called qvevri, or kvevri, which is why the wine is also called qvevri. The reds are so dark Georgians call them black.

In my experience, Georgia’s traditional wines vary widely, from the dry and smooth tastes westerners appreciate to something that is indescribably odd.

At Pheasant’s Tears, we tasted four wines, all in the former category. The grape names are mostly unfamiliar to westerners, but this is what we tasted:

Chinuri, a white, called a royal wine for being favored by royals; a Rkatsiteli, a “foremost” white, Donovan said; a Tavkveri, a light red, and a Saperavi, a “foremost” red. This was a black one, and it was my favorite.

The Pheasant’s Tears product!

Music: Any of us may recall evenings with fantastic food and wine enjoyed with a group and embraced by a warm setting, but this event rose to another level because our entertainers joined us at the dinner table. They sang generally between courses and well into the evening after most eating was done.

They are polyphonic singers, polyphonic meaning “many voices.” However, this music is not like the familiar many voices of, say, a barbershop quartet or church choir. It sounds as if the multiple simultaneous melodies are totally independent of one another although the encyclopedia tells me they are related.

The quartet sang a selection of Georgian songs, but toward the end of the evening, they sang familiar tunes, too, but presented in the polyphonic style. It was a fascinating take on familiar sounds. Oddly, the experience was all the more satisfying as we listened and continued sipping wine against the background noises of a driving rain outside.

Polyphonic singers, joining us at our Pheasant’s Tears dinner table, entertain between courses, above and below.

It is almost heartbreaking when such evenings must come to an end. We enjoyed a community experience that occurs spontaneously and is hard to replicate.

A final note: I have included a few still photos, but our group included Michal Shapiro, a video journalist who specializes in music. Her video, seen above, does a super job of providing more information about the music we heard that night in Georgia, and it better conveys the whole of our environment at Pheasant’s Tears. A longer video, for those who want more information on Georgia, appears below.

This blog and photos are by Nadine Godwin, BestTripChoices.com editorial director and contributor to the trade newspaper, Travel Weekly. She also is the author of “Travia: The Ultimate Book of Travel Trivia.” Michal Shapiro is a musician, producer, journalist and videoblogger specializing in international music and culture.  She has produced numerous critically acclaimed world music CDs. Her videos, which she shoots and edits herself, can seen on Huffington Post, and on her own site, https://worldmusicandculture.com

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