Wales in black: of mountains and the night sky

Our lovely cabin at Pen-y-Dre, the next morning

[We start with a bit I wrote mid week's end.]

February 18, 2012

I'm writing from that pleasant valley, on the cusp of a second wind. The endorphins from our hike up Sugar Loaf this afternoon have faded to satisfied sleepiness, slowly perking up now as I drain my cup of joe. I sit at the kitchen table in one of the Pen-y-Dre Farm's cottages in Llanvihangel Crucorney ("Sacred Enclosure of Michael at the Corner of the Rock"); the beams surrounding me are like none I've seen -- almost ostentatious in their rusticity.

We stopped at Raglan Castle the day before

Neither one of us can believe how well this day has come together. We spent last night at the manor house Llansantffraed Court -- more on that in a moment -- and contemplated the grim forecast over their fantastic full Welsh breakfast this morning. As we left for the market hall in Abergavenny, it seemed that heavy rain would indeed dominate the day. Thankfully, Tea was absolutely determined to hike, and so, after a pick-me-up, post-browsing cuppa, we made our way to the tourist information centre for advice on accommodation and hiking in the vicinity.

Llansantffraed Court -- great spot!

It wasn't until we left, with the aforementioned B & B and hill hike recommendations, that we realised the centre had closed minutes after our arrival -- our first bit of luck. And while initially it seemed that Pen-y-Dre Farms was booked up, as Tea chatted with the manager about alternatives he might suggest, his wife piped up to say that they just might have a room, if we could give them a few hours -- Bit of Luck #2. Add that we finished the 5 km hike without so much as a drop of rain, only to have the sky open up as we settled in our cottage -- to say nothing of the beautiful cottage itself, and tea and cake (man-sized wedges at that) that awaited us -- and you're looking at more luck than I can count on a hand. Awww yeah!

My mood of the morning's been turned on its head!

On the way to Sugar Loaf

The summit!

The highlight of the day was probably sitting on a windswept rock two-thirds of the way up Sugar Loaf, feet dangling like I'm a kid in dad's chair, passing a tasty pasty from the market hall back 'n' forth with Tea, watching the shadows of the clouds march across this wide open space like herds of buffalo.

* * *

The Gavenny Valley -- Sunday's hike

Llansantffraed Court was darn near perfect. We'd learned of it through Groupon, and following on from Buttonberg's rave reviews of it last weekend, had us a humdinger of a time. (Until this moment, we've basically retraced Buttonberg's steps, come to think of it, from Raglan Castle -- surely one of the most visually titilating I've seen -- to the manor, to Sugar Loaf.) Llansantffraed Court customised their fixed menu for my lactose intolerance, were consummate hosts through the six courses -- including cured salmon and caviar, confit duck, and loin and pressed shoulder of pork, to name a few -- and stoked an eyebrow-searing fire for us well into the whiskey-filled night.

Oh, and I can't forget the wine pairing: from the riesling (an Australian, from the Pewsey Vale, and Tea's favourite) to the bordeaux on down, each worked beautifully. My favourite was a local red, from the nearby Ancre Hill vineyard: so earthy and yeasty, beetroot in the nose; unlike any wine I've ever tasted. Buttonberg said they never like the same wine and both loved this one. I completely understand; it breaks the mold, and clearly meets in the middle of their tastes.

The end of that story embodies Wales: upon learning of the Buttonberg's gushing love for this local beauty the following morning, the manor called ahead to the vineyard, a few miles down the road, who opened their shop especially for them. They ended up with a case of the stuff.

* * *

On Saturday evening we decided to eat at the Skirrit Mountain Inn, just down the road from our cottage. We turned around almost immediately to grab a torch: there wasn't a street light to be seen in Llanvihangel Crucorney. It reminded me of my last trip to Hare Bay, Newfoundland; I was there for my grandfather's (Dadda's) funeral, and had to make my way back to my Aunt Queen's house each evening by the light of the moon. Now, as then, the constellations popped, as if we were in a planetarium; indeed we had a mobile one seconds later, when Tea fired up her app that labelled the stars (and planets) as you swung the phone around the night sky.

The Skirrid Mountain Inn claims to be Wales' oldest pub, having stood for nine centuries. However, Real Heritage Pubs of Wales puts it at "wholly mid- to late-17th century with major alterations in the 19th century." That said, its crackling hearth, tasty grub -- Tea's baby back ribs were a treat! -- and friendly staff were most welcomed, and we got a good dose of authentic history the following evening when we enjoyed a pint at the Llanthony Priory Hotel: "part of a medieval structure making it the oldest building in [the Real Heritage Pubs of Wales guide] that is now a pub."

* * *

February 19, 2012

The Skirrid, with its chasm of legend

After a nice lie-in, we made our way to the main farmhouse for a big fry-up. It was a fantastic start to the day: blue sky, donkeys and roosters putting their stamp on the morn, sunbeam-sleepy cats lounging in a kitchen so full of life lived.

Tea decided on a nearby hike that would take us through the Gavenny Valley and Cwmyoy -- and the famous crooked church of St. Martin's -- up and around the surrounding hills, along part of the Beacons Way, before circling back to the start. The Gavenny Valley stretched on for miles; such a sight in that crisp morning air. Once we were in it, however, looking up at Cwmyoy, the namesake of the previous evening's inn had our undivided attention:

The Skirrid is the most eye-catching mountain in the area. Shooting up from the Gavenny Valley... gentle green fields climb about halfway up its flanks, giving way suddenly to purple scrub and bracken... [It] has long been held to be a holy mountain; the almighty chasm that splits the peak is said to have been caused by the force of God's will on the death of Christ, a theory that drew St. Michael and legions of other pilgrims... Another theory claims that Noah's Ark clipped it as it passed by.

--The Lonely Planet's Guide to Wales

Inside 'crooked' St. Martin's

The toughest part of the day was still ahead of us: each time we crested a rise, expecting to see the Beacons Way that circled the valley, another hill would present itself. Boy, what a view awaited us at the peak, though. When we made it back to the car, well over four hours later, we were ready for a rest; particularly as we were very aware of the previous day's hike as well.

The last stop of the day was Llanthony Priory, and we made it with minutes to spare. We snapped a few shots as a mist began to fall, briefly taking shelter in the aforementioned hotel of the same name, before heading for home, the sun at our backs and setting the world afire. We soon outran the rain. You could see it in the distance, though; great sheets out near the horizon, tapering to funnels as they touched the earth.

Llanthony Priory

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the weekend.

Tallinn: Canada rocks the archery contest

Entering Old Town

[These last few posts of the cruise were written as we sailed back to Amsterdam. We now continue on Tuesday, July 5, returning from our two days in Russia...]

Our next stop was Tallinn, Estonia. Unlike many of the earlier stops, the Old Town -- one of the most beautifully preserved in Europe, we're told -- was but a short walk from the port. While we'd arrived very early, we did manage to find some coffee in the sleepy Town Hall Square, right in the impressive hall itself. (Which was a good thing, as it was a bit chilly.)

Town Hall, in the square of the same name

The highlight of the day was an archery contest we stumbled upon: Tea did well initially, as did I -- so long as you count perfectly lining the arrows up along the left-hand edge of the target as "well" -- but the star of the show was Stephen, who nearly doubled the top scores on the leader board with back-to-back 43s. We left with a nice bottle of Estonian wine, Canada dominating the standings.

Apparently I need rebalancing

Take that, Pepe!

Old Hansa

Archery works up a good appetite, so it was lucky that Alla had recommended a traditional restaurant, in the medieval style, right off Town Hall Square: Old Hansa was even better than we'd hoped, serving all sorts of interesting meats like bear, elk and wild boar, as well as their own beer, flavoured with honey or strong herbs.

Ketikoerad

We finished the afternoon with a spontaneous rock 'n' roll show near the pier -- the band was Ketikoerad, and they played a mean Born To Be Wild -- a bottle of the local porter from Saku in hand.

Up next: Copenhagen, Denmark

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

New Year's in Prague

Well, before I start on our trip to Prague, just a few words about our Christmas: it was nice 'n' quiet, with plenty of delicious turkey and roasted veg leftovers -- Tea cooked her big meal on Christmas Eve, which they get off here -- mulled wine and cheesy movies. On Boxing Day we were on our way to Telford and then Newcastle to watch Newcastle United vs. Manchester City live! -- Robbie and Lill got us amazing seats, and the atmosphere in St. James' Park was top notch: the 52000 in attendance birthed this undulating roar that was unlike anything I'd experienced, even at the fantastic matches in Dublin the summer past -- and celebrate Jan's birthday; and, man, I knew her Stan was one-of-a-kind, but there's no half measures with any of the Geordies I met: tons of elaborate 'fancy dress' costumes and things still in full swing when we left in the wee-ish hours.

Tuesday, December 28

Luckily we'd padded our schedule with a day between Newcastle and our flight out of Bristol, as the M1 was pretty much a parking lot for large swathes of the 27th. With an early afternoon flight, we got plenty of sleep, even after a late night of packing. This was our first time on EasyJet, which was much like the other discount airlines (if a bit dirtier, to be honest, although, hey, it could've been worse with how quickly they turn around those planes).

Prague Airport is a ways out of the city, and that, combined with my poor direction sense, particularly at night, and the strange currency, had me a bit worried as the cab ride stretched on. 700 Czech koruna may seem like a lot, but it's really only about £23. (I was just starting to get the hang of converting that on the fly as we left.) After quickly dropping our bags, it was time to meet Ron and Michelle, fellow Canadians coincidentally in for Ronnie's big birthday, near the Prague Orloj, or Astronomical Clock, which was just a few blocks from our hotel. The first of many meals of goulash, chased with much pivo (pretty much all the Czech you need, incidentally) of various sorts, followed.

Wednesday

Prague Castle, or simply 'the hrad' to the locals, topped Ron 'n' Michelle's list for their last day, so we agreed to meet them up there after a fantastic breakfast in our hotel's cellar. (You can see a number of advertisements around town for pubs and restaurants in these cellars, and it's definitely a neat experience.) The hrad grounds stretched on and on; standing in the beautiful St. Vitus Cathedral, you could be forgiven for forgetting you're still within its walls. At minus 10°C, we soon needed some mulled wine, as we admired the icicles hanging from the mouths of the cathedral's gargoyles -- "Ice vomit!" as Tea so eloquently put it.

Michelle wanted to pick up some art, so we shopped our way back to town, over the famous Charles Bridge. (I've seen pictures of it in the summer, and I have to say, even then, there was something so right about it set against grey clouds, snow resting on its 30 statues.) I know many would call the galleries and little stands along that stretch touristy, but I was really impressed with the quality of the watercolours and ink drawings I saw; probably the most beautiful and varied I've seen of what you would consider readily available to the casual buyer.

Shopping's thirsty work, so we decided to stop at the Hotel U Zlatého Stromu's heated patio for some refreshments. Well, one look at probably one of the best menus I've ever seen (in terms of presentation) quickly pushed this well beyond even our substantial definition of a 'snack': check out Page 72 for a glimpse of Ronnie's skewer from the gods. More than sated, we resumed shopping, determined to rebuild our appetites for the amazing ham sandwiches at the Christmas markets -- reminiscent of the "slab o' ham" sandwiches from Cologne... Boy, do they know how to cook good pig in that part of the world!

While I think I preferred the Christmas markets in Cologne overall, one area where the Prague markets excelled -- and the old town square market, in particular -- was the live entertainment. The traditional (what I would call medieval) instruments, lighting that didn't drown out that of the big tree and stalls, and plenty of room for all to gather round really made for an immersive experience. (I recorded this sound clip by the stage.)

Speaking of medieval, later, when looking for somewhere to warm up and have a few, we happened upon such a themed restaurant. Initially, only the bar held our interest, but as late afternoon became evening, we learned that they were putting on a show later in the basement. Well, expecting something along the lines of Medieval Times, I was really impressed by the quality of the entertainment -- excellent musicians, belly dancers (carrying snakes and juggling flaming torches at different times throughout the show) and swordplay -- and the food; more food than we could eat, in fact. (I recorded these excerpts right from my seat.)



Thursday

We decided to skip the hotel breakfast in favour of an epic lie-in. In typical fashion, the idea came to us that New Year's at the Prague State Opera's gala event, Johann Strauss’ operetta Die Fledermaus, would be fun. However, we didn't bring any nice clothes with us, so, after a breakfast of klobasa from the old town square Christmas market, it was off to buy new outfits; Tea was crushed, of course.

The stores were surprisingly quiet for that time of year. We completed our mission in record time, I thought, and was particularly tickled that Tea found such a beautiful dress. After dropping our shopping in the hotel room, we decided to try the restaurant, Rainer Maria Rilke, right next door. It was a beautiful place, if a bit drafty, and the owner was very accommodating. I had roasted duck -- his grandmother's recipe! -- and Tea had salmon. So tasty!

New Year's Eve

Since this was the last day of the Christmas markets, we spent some time picking up a few gifts, and stuffing ourselves on the treats, of course. I think it's safe to say Tea's favourite was the trdelnik, which is a spiral of dough wrapped around a roller (called a trdlo), sugared and cooked over open coals. Very addictive!

It started to snow as we wandered 'new town', so we stopped in Branická Formanka for lunch. The place was packed, with only reserved tables open. However, as the Good Beer Guide Prague stated, it's always good to ask: we found a table that was apparently reserved special for us. Our waiter was very friendly, actually (which is unusual for Prague, incidentally). Good goulash and beer followed, then it was back to the hotel for a kip before the big night.

I'd reserved a taxi to the State Opera House for 6:30 p.m., but found, once we were in the lobby, it was the hotel driver who would be taking us. And then he offered to pick us up at a time of our choosing! No mad hunt for a cab on New Year's in Prague, apparently. The Opera House was absolutely breath-taking; the ceiling and balconies were so beautifully detailed.

Tea and I felt perfectly at ease amongst the well-dressed crowd -- thank goodness we'd shopped! They had an open bar, which was a nice touch, and as I was reading the English summary of the operetta, beer in hand, Tea struck up a conversation with a Dutch couple nearby.

When the operetta started, I surprised to see a large flat-screen above the stage, for the Czech and English subtitles as it turned out. (The operetta was performed in German.) I think there was a large French contingent behind us, as you could hear their translations -- presumably for their non-polyglot or short-sighted members -- in the quieter moments. (That, and there was an enormous cheer when the cast got to "Bonne année!" at midnight.)

After the first act, the buffet was served. Oh - my. Let's just say we were foolish to attempt to queue for what descended to a free-for-all. (It brought to mind a music video from ages past where everyone was in tuxedos and gowns to begin with, all prim and proper, only to become something like bipedal zoo animals by the end for reasons that escape me -- please comment below if this rings a bell, as it's bugging me and my Google-fu is weak.)

As Act III came to a close, champagne was passed 'round the audience, the cast toasting the new year with us in an astounding number of languages. Then, over the course of no more than twenty minutes, the orchestra pit was raised to meet the stage, thus creating a large dance floor. During the first few numbers, as couples slowly made their way to the front, there was one real stand-out: you could tell this couple had been dancing together for many, many years, and there wasn't a step they didn't know. Simply mesmerizing, as they made use of the still-sparsely-populated dance floor. But then it was packed, and stayed so as we shared a final drink with that Dutch couple, before saying our goodbyes around 2 a.m. I'm sure that place was hopping 'til the moment it was scheduled to finish, an hour after that.

A quick New Year's skype with Tea's family, and then it was time for bed.

New Year's Day

The hotel had humanely extended the hours of breakfast; after taking advantage, we set out to check some last spots off our list: Obecni Dum, and the Alphonse Mucha (pronounced MOO-ka) museum. (I'm embarrassed to admit that, while being a fan of his art for many years, I didn't realize he was Czech. A happy surprise, I can assure you.) We both really enjoyed the museum: the layout was excellent -- and beautiful, of course. There were many pieces I hadn't seen, and themes to others that I'd never picked up on. The documentary was also very well done. We came out of there with laden arms, in search of sustenance.

Another item on the list -- well, let's be frank: my list -- was a 'tankovna' or tank pub, where they serve unpasteurised pilsner (mostly Pilsner Urquell in Prague) from these polyester-lined steel tanks. Bredovský dvůr was my first choice, as the GBG Prague also highlighted its honey-glazed ribs. And with good reason! They were absolutely amazing! (Although Tea 'n' I probably could've shared an order.) The Pilsner Urquell was also excellent -- could I pick it out from the stuff for export if I was blindfolded? I honestly think so. The difference in the 'nose' and depth of flavours is significant.

Wandering the city the day before, we'd been handed a number of flyers for various concerts, either on New Year's Eve or early in the new year. We'd made the decision to go to the New Year's concert in the Clam-Gallas Palace, featuring Vivaldi's Four Seasons, as well as selections by Mozart, Dvorak, Pachelbel and Telemann. We left Bredovský dvůr with just enough time to make the 6 p.m. start.

Clam-Gallas Palace is famous for a number of reasons, including hosting a concert by Ludwig van Beethoven himself, as well as a ball that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart attended. Sitting in that intimate room, which honestly held little more than fifty guests -- a private concert, really, in other words -- so ornate (thinking of the Opera House again), and with that history in mind... Well, good G**, even I can't fail to grasp that I've really arrived: the Europe I've always dreamed of is before me.

I don't mind telling you that that ten-piece string orchestra's performance of Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D brought me to tears; and flowing ones at that. The whole concert, certainly less than an hour, was unbelievable, really. A violin soloist, Lucie Hulova, according to the programme, took the floor a few times, and her performance of Winter (I don't know which movement of Concerto No. 4 specifically) in particular opened my eyes to: 1) the leeway they have in performing these pieces, as she sprinkled little... quarter notes, I would imagine, throughout, and 2) what true passion can bring to a performance -- particularly when you standing barely 15 feet from the musician!

If you haven't guessed by now, I would have to put this in the Top 3 concerts of my life; if weighted with ticket price, at the equivalent of £15 per person, it shoots to #1, easily. And, as I said, we had our pick of these concerts without even trying. What an absolutely amazing city!

We finished off the evening at the nearby pub, U Zeleneho stromu. They had pretzels at the table, hanging off these neat little trees, and more unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell. At some point an entry on their beer menu caught my eye: Master Special 18°, which doesn't mean 18%, by the way, but rather is the percentage of malt sugar present before fermentation. Still, generally speaking, the bigger the number, the stronger the beer. This was brought home to me when I ordered it, "Is a strong beer, yeah?" was the waitress' reply. Well, holy tootin', she wasn't kidding. A beautiful dark, it was so much smoother than I'd expected. In truth, I nursed it, because with every swallow I could feel its punch. I defy anyone to have three of those in a night and make it home under their own steam.

Sunday

Our flight wasn't scheduled 'til the early afternoon, so we took the opportunity to go a-wanderin'. We ended up outside the hrad main gate as the changing of the guard was finishing; quite the production, especially under the gaze of those battling titans.

Then it was back to the hotel to pick up our bags, after lunch at the nearby Prazsky most brewpub. All in all, a fantastic trip. Tea's already talking about returning in 2011, which suits me fine.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the trip.

Cologne: all in sight of the Dom

Our drive to London was surprisingly painless. We had plenty of time to relax in St. Pancras Station before our train to Brussels, and then comfortably made our connection to Cologne. After a warm welcome at the Excelsior Hotel Ernst, we made our way to the Christmas market in the shadow of the 'Dom' -- Weihnachtsmarkt am Kölner Dom.

What an amazing market! We started with these slab o' ham sandwiches that were so good, quickly followed by glühwein; our first of many that evening. After a once-over of the stalls, we made our way to the famous Früh am Dom, just beyond. We weren't standing at the tables outside for more than a moment, wondering what to do, when a man in a blue vest came by with this caddy of 0.2 L glasses of beautifully clear, Früh Kolsch. Fruity, with a nutty finish -- and served by gravity, out of huge barrels -- in a word, delish!

Back at the market, more glühwein found its way to our mugs, and then there was tasty pomme frites, followed by the best crepes Tea's ever had! (And, as she says, she's had some crepes in her life.) These came with a healthy helping of Nutella, and I could tell she was on cloud nine.

Sunday, December 12

We started the day with a lie-in, safe in the knowledge that we'd still easily make the Excelsior's breakfast, on 'til 11 a.m. and very high calibre. Then it was out for a walk along the Rhine. Walking over the Hohenzollern bridge was a bit moving, if I'm honest: the impressive current under us, so many symbols of commitment locked to the railing beside us, built to a tangible energy in the air.

Our first pub of the day was Brauhaus zur Malzmühle, a brewpub in the style of the Hofbrauhaus (is the way I think of them, it being my first) and beautifully decorated for the season. Warmed by some fantastic goulash and their Kolsch, we made our way to the old town market, Alter Markt/Altstadt. "Hyper German" is the phrase that popped from my mouth, surrounded by those familiar stalls, but also under the gaze of gnomes, a bonneted matron's music box filling my ears, quickly followed by the squeals of delighted children as the tune reached its crescendo.

At times I was aware that I had the biggest grin just plastered on. The celebration was so infectious. Every stall held fresh memories from Tea's childhood. Afternoon became evening, and we made our way to another pub on the list, Pfaffen brewpub. Our beer guide commented on the beautiful stained glass above its doorway; combined with the extraordinary wood carvings along much of its interior, it was a lovely, if cosy, spot to spend a few hours.

When our waiter found out we were from Canada, his face lit up, "Ah, I've been there! Toronto! Beautiful city! I was on a very famous street..." His brow knit as he struggled to draw out the name. By this time, another waiter, the self-proclaimed "Psycho" -- little wonder why we aren't supposed to pick our own nicknames; you get a room of Mr. Blacks -- has joined in the conversation, proclaiming that more Macedonians live in Toronto than do at 'home'. "Danforth!" saved us from committing either way to this proclamation.

We'd been noticing how wet and bedraggled many of the newcomers appeared; luckily the next pub on our list was just a few doors down. The party was in full swing in the Brauhaus Sünner im Walfisch, with an L-shaped table across from us sharing what we soon found out was a five-litre tower of Sünner Kolsch. On the dubious logic that you can wait some time for refills of those tiny 0.2 L glasses, we quickly found ourselves in the shadow of our very own three-litre tower of Cologne's nectar.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this is where the evening begins to take on a sort of glowing haze. Full of delicious pork, potatoes and Kolsch -- although, not the whole three litres, I hasten to add: no, we shared some with the others at our table, and received many thanks and shots of some sort in return -- we made our way, first, to the so-called medieval market, where we enjoyed more glühwein from heavily cowled folk in the light of open flames, and then to the Christmas market on a boat moored in the Rhine, not far from the Hohenzollern bridge. We had our portraits done there, Tea undoubtedly drumming up more business for the artist, such was her enthusiasm for the enterprise.

Monday

Thankfully, the day started very peacefully, the hotel now well below capacity. After breakfast, we made our way to the first of the two remaining Christmas markets -- if you haven't been counting, that's six in walking distance of our hotel and the Dom! -- Cologne's oldest, in Neumarkt. The weather had been steadily improving over the weekend, and we enjoyed the sunny breaks sipping glühwein and munching on kartoffelplätzchen (fried potato cakes).

Then it was off to the Christmas market on Rudolfplatz, in the shadow of the Hahnentorburg, one of the original twelve gates in the medieval city walls of Cologne. Our first stop was for more mulled wine, of course. Something I've failed to mention is that you're typically drinking out of mugs that are unique to that market; you pay a deposit and can then go from stall to stall, refilling as required. However, most markets won't accept mugs from other markets, which was fine with us: we had quite a collection by this point. The Rudolfplatz market's mugs were especially neat because two of them, side by side, formed a miniature replica of the Hahnentorburg.

After a bit of shopping -- Tea added to her Christmas village, and we picked up biscuits for the work crowd -- we stopped at another brewpub on the list, Päffgen Brauhaus, for an early supper. Again, I just love the feel of these places: the smell of the... unfinished pine, I suppose, of the tables, and then the deep, rich wood of the booths and panelling; this brauhaus had some fabulous stained glass as well; and it's rare that you aren't sitting near a group of older men, swapping stories or debating as they've done many times before, over a good many Kolsch. Oh, and to give you an idea of how easy that is, the waiter just keeps coming with those 0.2 L glasses, marking a stroke for each new arrival on your beermat; put your beermat on top of your glass when you're done, and he or she will tally it up. Easy-peasy!

A kip at the hotel was then in order, and as we got ready to head out again that evening, a beautiful, light snow started to fall. I don't think it could've felt more Christmas-y, as we again walked the Alter Markt and the am Kölner Dom. The crowds had hardly dipped from the weekend, and no one seemed to mind the snow -- for my Canadian readers, that may sound strange, but trust me, there are certain folks (not naming names or... nationalities) that just seem to carry on as always, shivering and muttering in their trainers and light coats, hoping this strange white stuff will simply go away.

In addition to sampling many of the old standbys, Tea also tried some käsespätzle, which looked amazing and put the biggest smile on her face.

Tuesday

Since our hotel was right beside the train station, and the train to Brussels didn't leave 'til 3 p.m., we still had lots of time to wander Cologne, even after our lie-in. We decided to forego the hotel breakfast for slab o' ham sandwiches, pomme frites and crepes (marmalade in mine) -- ah, there's a start to your day!

We toured the Dom and its crypt -- all free! -- and then relaxed in the Gaffel am Dom brewhouse with a few Kolsch before grabbing our bags and heading to the station. We had talked about leaving earlier and spending some time in Brussels, but decided to leave that for another trip.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the trip.