A man alone in the city of Rome… summertime, when men and women dress for comfort rather than modesty. Yes, a fella could get up to a lot of hijinks if we were disposed to doing so. On the other hand, a fella might just be disposed to hiding in his air conditioned lodging and watch movies for a couple of days when he’s all by himself, in his 50s, and it’s hot as hell outside. So, with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other… actually that sounds like two devils; typical… anyway, with two whispering critters on my shoulders, what exactly did I get up to in The Eternal City? What wonders of the ancient world did I partake of? What fabulous adventure could possibly roust me from the coolth of steady air conditioning?? You guessed it!

Hop-on, Hop-off.

I know I/we are a broken record at this point, but we are total converts to the hopping way of life. If you’re on a mission or tourism they serendipitously go exactly where you want to go. There are several different lines of these buses in Rome; I went with Green Line Tours but I’m no expert as to which are better or worse. Green Line did just fine for me, but honestly it looked like most of the stops I saw had signs indicating that several different companies stop in identical locations. Thanks to our perfectly located accommodation (good job, sweetie!) I had about a 4-minute walk to the piazza, then on to the bus and into the center of the city.

However, before you roll your eyes at John and another one of his all-bus-all-the-time posts, stay your fury! This time, I was using the HOHO as actual public transportation. After riding for a half hour or so I scooted back on to the pavements for my key destination of the day – the Capitoline Museums. I’ve been to them before but it’s been quite awhile and the place is just stuffed. Even on a second visit I’d likely see things I missed the first time (or, to be perfectly honest, forgot I saw it) and some things are worth a second look anyway, right? Especially baby Hercules. This unforgettable piece of work (on display to the left) seems to be an artist’s attempt to reconcile two different inspirations – one, that Hercules is reputed to have displayed feats of great strength when he was just a baby. And two, shouldn’t a strong person look like a big strong man? Thus the compromise: a full grown, somewhat muscular man who has been mushed together with, you know, a baby. It is unsettling, but in a way that I can’t look away when I’m anywhere near it. And to paraphrase my sister, if I have to look at it, you have to look at it.

Behold!

The strange thing is that it is a total outlier. Baby Hercules is the only “oddity” like this in the place. It is otherwise a trove of art collected by the leading lights of Rome for nearly six hundred years, starting out with a gift from Pope Sixtus IV. He wasn’t the last. The ways of the rich and powerful are inscrutable, but on an irregular schedule over the centuries a pope or other richie rich type would drop off some portion of their accumulated wealth; I’m not Catholic but I have my suspicions. In any case, that much wealth sluicing through over that much time is going to yield a heck of a museum.

After a lovely few hours tromping through the Museums I pondered getting a meal, but there are bizarrely few dining options a quick hop from the museum, and I didn’t feel like longish walk in the heat, so instead I took my trusty HOHO back to my neighborhood for a nice spot I’d spotted right around the corner from home. Ristorante Rossini doesn’t seem to have much of a web presence, although it does seem to be attached to Albergo Ottocento hotel. The restaurant had a whole submenu featuring truffles – in the risotto, in the salad, on your steak… many styles. I went for a salad (a promise to wife to not eat *only* meat and pasta on the trip) and then the truffle-sauced beef tenderloin, because who doesn’t try that once? It was one of the best pieces of beef I have ever had.

One day down, I’m feeling righteous about not just being a lump, and the next day brings the whole reason for the trip – Senor Caravaggio.

Us being us, we still had a bit of a double agenda for the trip. John had scheduled a trip back to the States to see his folks in South Carolina, and the flight was out of Lisbon. Once we realized (which was, like, immediately) that he’d be leaving straight after Lisa’s birthday, it was pretty easy to envision a long weekend in Lisbon before John took off and Lisa eased her way back home on the train. In the end, what we had was about a day and a half to loll about and take some things in. Definitely not time to “see Lisbon”, but at least we’d get our feet wet. And so, dear readers, what do you think Lisa and John did in a city they hadn’t visited before so they could get acquainted with it? You guessed it: hop-on hop-off, baby!

From talking to friends, I think some of you still think we’re being ironic about the hop on hop off experience; we assure you that we are not. Yes, it’s an icon of pure tourism, stripped of any sense of actual engagement of the culture. No, you don’t really experience visiting any of the major sites of the city you’re in (at least, not while on the bus). We would never say it should be the only thing you do when you visit a city. But, we’ve used them in a half-dozen places or so by now, and 100% of the time we’re satisfied with the fact that we have been given a meandering tour of the layout of the city and put some of the geography into context with what’s on the maps. Look at it from the opposite direction: when we first visited London in 2007 (which was our first trip out of North America, aw, what babies etc…) we were very proud of ourselves for getting a map of the Underground and navigating tube stops pretty efficiently by the end of our trip. On the other hand, we never made it to St. Paul’s Cathedral because it didn’t seem to line up with other places we wanted to visit, when in fact we spent our first morning (which we mostly twiddled our thumbs through waiting for a concert to start) about 100 yards from the entrance. Chalk it up to being tired and there being some tall buildings in between, but it’s a classic example of the map not being the territory. The tube stop listed as being the one to take for St. Paul’s was not listed on the Underground map as being the one we were at, and in fact was on a separate line, and so it looked difficult to get to. (“John, are you making excuses for why you made a dumb mistake?” I mean, maybe, but it’s still true. :p ) Aaaalll that to say, it’s never a bad idea to actually get a good, long, in-person look at the city you’re visiting.

One of the most fascinating things we saw was actually a museum that we *didn’t* visit, because a) we didn’t know it existed and b) it was closed the day we walked by. Nevertheless, the National Coach Museum captured our imagination. First of all, the very fact that it exists… come on, a national museum dedicated to … coaches? You may be thinking to yourself this is a translation error, that what they’re talking about is a transportation museum or something. Well feast your eyes:

Coaches, baybeeee. We didn’t even know this place existed. We saw it after having a disjointed visit to … well, what John thought was a museum about the 1755 Lisbon Earthquake but turned out to be essentially an amusement park attraction about the earthquake which apparently shakes the ever-loving crap out of you. We say “apparently” because the idea of it holds no appeal for either of us so we bailed. Walking out of that building, however, we spotted an incredibly modern and large building nearby.

It’s a seriously impressive building, and massive, and gave the impression of being a public edifice of central importance… which we guess it is? Our first guess about its origin turned out to be correct: it was originally a possession of the Portuguese royal family, who then bequeathed it to the city (always a shady dodge in our opinion for when royalty is tired of paying for upkeep on some of their stuff, but whatevs) and, apparently, is in fact a beloved institution. The museum, after all, is a post-fascism creation which means that to some extent the will of the people was required to get the dang thing erected. In any case, it may now be at the very top of places we want to visit when the chance presents itself again.

You might be thinking about now “that sounds like a busted day. One place wasn’t what you expected and you left, and the other wasn’t even open.” Weeeeelll… yes, except. Lisa had made a point of saying that she had been trying to embrace the moment over the big picture, (and John lets the wind lead him willy-nilly pretty easily) so it was a very pleasant day overall. The weather was just perfect, and the neighborhood we were futzing in is right on the water so we had excellent breezes and an intermittently lovely view. When those two things didn’t pan out, we shifted gears and went to a waterside seafood restaurant for a whole grilled fish (which was tasty, but the overall vibe was mezzo-mezzo and there won’t be a full review), then more walking along the water, and it was about then that we noticed the hop on hop off buses were driving on the very road that fronted us, so we figured out where to catch it, and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon that way.

As mentioned earlier, we were also marking Lisa’s birthday, which meant a couple of things. First of all, it meant that the Hyatt we were staying in upgraded our room without us even asking (apparently they have birthdays on file from being a member in their rewards program?) which put us in probably the nicest hotel room/suite we’ve ever had. Seriously, we were on a corner, with a huge veranda that ran the length of the suite on all sides, and the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows that could be opened wide. We caught gorgeous breezes in the evenings, it was wild. A small but complete kitchen, dining room AND separate living/sitting room, bedroom in an enclosed space of its own… it was bonkers. Thanks, Hyatt! We threw a dart at a restaurant in the heart of the city that was… fine, but once again not really worth digging down into the deets with you. (Yes, we hoped for more for a birthday meal, but the overall day had been so nice that it was fine.)

After dinner we meandered the back streets of Lisbon for awhile, just taking it all in (and getting a little lost :p) before finally arriving back on a main drag, from whence we hailed a ride and went back to the hotel. The final little treat was that the hotel had a beautiful little “Happy Birthday” desert treat and a bottle of champagne waiting when we got back; I had asked for the assist but you never know when it comes to hotels. Once again, hats off to the Lisbon Hyatt Regency. (To be clear, we aren’t even “top level” in their rewards club, they were just taking care of us. Kudos.) Another bit of evening taking the air on our super-deck, but we were aiming for an early night so John could catch decent Zs before jetting off. When all was said and done, we said our goodbyes and then bedded down (which was, yes, a little weird) but John left at about 4 AM to catch a cab to the airport. Lisa left at a much more reasonable time for the train station and returned home to Braga.

Last little note, should you ever need to know – the direct train service between Braga and Lisbon is nicely affordable and very comfortable. As opposed to the commuter lines (which also aren’t bad, honestly, just a little slower) you only stop in Porto. It’s a comfy ride that has you to your destination in a bit more than four hours.

The sun rose up on our last day in Vienna. If you’re thinking that seems quick, well yeah – the whole point of the trip was just to take nibbles of new places; if we love either of them, we can always go back for more. That is, after all, the whole point of moving over here. Good news / bad news situation: we have indeed loved our time in Vienna, which means we’re also a little sad that it’s coming to an end. Alas, alack. Our last day is jam-packed, however, including an actual, honest-to-goodness bucket list item for Lisa. By the time the sun sets on this day, we’ll actually be in transit to our next destination. But that’s then, and this is now. Well, kinda. Verb tenses are complicated for a reason. In any case, let’s finish up Vienna!

It may surprise some of you to know that Lisa was horse-mad as a young girl. Lacking money, she had no choice but to grow out of it, but seeing the Lipizzaner stallions has been a bucket list item for decades. (Even John knew what they were and thought they were cool, he just never put two and two together that they were in Vienna.) So, of course this was a tent-pole event for this trip and Lisa booked tickets about as soon as the flights…. which was good, as it seems the daily practices sell out almost immediately — even in the off-off-season. They were the first thing on our agenda for the day, so we’re up and out and show up (at a palace, mind you, which really threw us off for a moment) about 15 mins before the show begins. A woman in charge of the queue checks everyone’s’ tickets and, seeing ours, waves us to the front of the line – she doesn’t stay with us, though, so now it’s just a couple of Americans banging their way through the crowded queue for no obvious reason, truly irritating a few folks including one woman who would NOT let us by until an employee made her — we kept apologizing and explaining that we were just doing what they told us to do). It seemed to be because our seats were on the ground just behind the low wall around the arena, as opposed to up in the galleries where most people were.

It was carefully and repeatedly explained to everyone that once the stallions came out, all film and photography was forbidden. No explanation was given, although John’s theory is that the management doesn’t want the magic dulled at all by footage of stallions- and riders-in-training not being at their best. In any case, we have no pictures or video of the horses to show you except from the interwebs.

And, it turns out that what we saw was not a performance, but literally a practice session. Five stallions came out with riders in the classic uniform and proceeded to ride around the arena, seemingly aimlessly. From time to time we’d notice one trotting in place, or doing one of the many “dance” steps they are known for, or drifting elegantly in a diagonal across the arena. It was lovely, but random, and not explained. The first group finished and left, and a second group came out, this time with a trainee (notable for their distinctive not-uniform and hardhat). And more of the same occurred, although we could see how the instructor guided the trainee, so that was a bit of insight. No acrobatics. No kicks. Nothing choreographed.

It turns out that PERFORMANCES only happen on Sundays (or on tour) and that is where you want to place your tent pole. Was it interesting? Yes, if you have some knowledge of horses, dressage, or the Lipizzaners. We weren’t exactly disappointed, but definitely felt our appetites more whetted than sated. Our next visit will absolutely be planned around a performance of these magnificent critters.

The arena itself is lovely and everything is oriented around the horses and their personalities. The arena actually is kind of crazy – if you removed the sand and put in a marble floor (and probably some more insulation) you’d have a ballroom as grand as any. To this day when riders first enter the space, they doff their hats in salute to their long-dead patron as thanks for the facilities. Kitschy or not, it’s not surprising. The horses are stabled not far from this practice and performance space, and a set of horse boxes look through a courtyard to the street bisecting the two areas; the keepers call them the “TV boxes”. It turns out that the horses here are particularly interested in watching the world go by and spend long hours just checking things out.

Afterwards, we met up with Robert, the walking tour guide included with our bus tickets. (To put a final answer to the question “are the tickets for the hop on hop off worth it?”, we’d say it depends on if you’re going to use it all. We got bus access for two days, the boat cruise, and a guided walking tour of downtown. We were very satisfied.) For the next 90 minutes he took us through the center of Old Town, explaining architecture, art, and typical lifestyle of the Viennese throughout history. It was thoroughly engaging and interesting, placing much of what we’d seen in passing over previous days into context, and whetting our appetite for future visits. It was particularly interesting to us that, for all that we felt charmed by the “old World” vibe, he pointed out numerous examples of modern living forcing out the old ways. Numerous bespoke businesses that had been owned by families for generations were being forced out by the typical encroachers – H&M, Gap, Target and so on. For the life of him John can’t find a photo that we took, but – there was an H&M on a main street that our guide pointed out. He had to point it out because it was a gorgeous, art deco structure with inlaid wood everywhere and almost no modern signage. Even the interior, visible through the beautifully huge windows, had that charming craftsmanship. The signage was modest all things considered. It turns out that the building had been sold at firesale prices in the 1930s by a Jewish family business that had to get out of town. By city decree the building has to be kept up as it was as a memorial, there apparently having been no remaining family to initiate a claim. We were given his opinion on places to eat, drink, and shop, and overall he rated favorably to many other tours we’ve been on over the years. It was one of the better perks of our Big Bus ticket.

From there, we went to lunch at the aquarium. Called the Haus des Meeres (House of Fish), it was converted from a 47-meter-tall flak tower in late 1943. It’s an odd building in many ways, and we’re told the aquarium is neat . . . but we were there because there is a restaurant on the top floor reputed to have great views of the city. Lunch was fine — nothing special, but freshly prepared and tasty. (Lisa had a hummus bowl, and John had the Caesar Salad with chicken.) The view, however, was truly spectacular (and would look even better at night, so go here for a drink before your meal out.) Naturally, we took no pictures…. sigh.

Our day was wrapping up, but our night was just beginning. Join us next week when we detail the wonders of going to sleep in Vienna and waking up in Amsterdam, courtesy of the choo choo train.

Day 1 in Vienna was all about getting the lay of the land, in more ways than one. There’s the obvious “what does the city look like” view, which the bus was great for. We saw a large swath of the city in sketch form, took in the environs, the geography and so forth. There was a whole ‘nother level that we were breaking the ice on, though. Like we said before, we’d been sticking to relatively familiar environments for our travel since we moved to Europe, and that had led to a high level of comfort – we weren’t likely to be surprised by the people or the food or… whatever, going to the same kinds of places. We only realized in retrospect that we’d maaaaybe possibly become a little nervous about breaking out of the routine, so going to an entirely new locale needed to work like some of us get into a pool – take a step, get used to the temperature, then take another step, then another, until you’re finally ready to sit down and get soggy. We eased into the shallow end of Vienna for that first day. Day 2 is when we sat down.

We began the second day much like the first, walking over to the train station to catch the closest stop of the Hop On Hop Off. Today were using it at least partially as regular public transit. We scooted in to the city center for about 45 minutes before being dropped off right in front of our destination: the Albertina Museum. Like a lot of the history of Vienna, the creation of the Albertina can be broken into major chunks: the accumulation of wealth under the aristocracy followed by the nationalization of the collection in the years after the first World War when the country transitioned to more-or-less democratic rule. The principal claim to fame of the Albertina rests in its world-class collection of prints and graphic works, with a significant number of works by Albrecht Dürer headlining the bunch. The “icon” of the museum is his stunningly rendered hare (which, bee tee dubs, is not really on display for conservation purposes – it’s a fake! A fraud! Ok, understandably, but still. . . ) but they’ve got a mountain of them. John actually preferred these amazing details of bird wings, but what does he know? Along with the “graphic works” there are also a nicely-curated selection of paintings. It’s more “Orsay” than “Louvre”, for space reasons if nothing else, but everything public-facing is first rate, and the temporary exhibition tracing impressionism (and beyond) from Monet through Picasso was particularly informative. Much like the Donatello exhibition we poked around in back in 2022 (and once again – what is this life we’re living when that’s a thing we can say???) the curators did a fantastic job of spelling out the lessons. You could watch the slow shifts, first as the impressionists broke away from literal representation of nature, and through their post-impressionist descendants as they increasingly unmoored themselves from reality altogether. Surrealism makes a lot more sense when you can see how it’s simply on the trajectory of an artistic idea. Practically overwhelmed by that walk through art history, it was a great change of pace to finish with Katharina Grosse’s exhibition involving a huge space completely given over to spray paint. It was riotously colorful, as you can see in the photo up at the top.

Included in our bus ticket was a free 90-minute boat cruise, so we caught the Red Line over to that stop, and hustled over (a few blocks) to catch the last tour of the day. It’s a nice boat, very clean and well-laid-out with indoor and outdoor seating (including an area downwind for smokers). On board table service for basic fare and beverages was available; the menu looked basic, but serviceable, with the variety of beer we were coming to expect as typical). The cruise itself was . . . meh. Very little narration, and all of it pre-recorded, so we had no context for what were cruising by. It would be a nice break, a chance to get off your feet and have a snack, especially during warmer months.

Dinner was at a rustic “classic Viennese cuisine” restaurant that opened in 1447, Griechenbeisl. We were hoping for a good meal, and we got exactly what they promised: classic Viennese cuisine. Nothing nouveau here, just food this city has been consuming for centuries. Beef Tartare, smoked salmon on blinis, vegetable cream soups that rotate through the seasons (we were offered parsnip, the week prior it had been pumpkin), crisp-roasted pig leg (made for two to share) . . . things like that. Lisa had the classic Wiener Schnitzel (veal pounded thin, breaded, and fried; served with a potato-cucumber salad) and John the Daily Special of roast pork (sliced) with spaetzel and gravy. We also ordered a side of steamed vegetables to share. It was delicious! The Schnitzel was moist and hot with a rich flavor complimented by the breading. The pork roast wasn’t quite as good, but flavorful, and the vegetables were perfectly steamed — still crunchy but not raw. We were tempted by dessert, but too full to be able to enjoy it.

Lisa and I have worked diligently to get past the typical sins of the tourist class. We still have blind spots, I’m sure, but we do our best to learn more than just the first three pages of the phrase book. We try to eat in the neighborhoods where regular people eat. We do as much as we can to have authentic experiences, partially to do our part to dispel the “Ugly American” stereotype and partially because it’s actually a lot of fun. We’ve received enough positive feedback from the universe (in the forms of having a great time and meeting a lot of lovely people) to make us think that we’re at least on the right path even if we’re still making a lot of mistakes. So, all that being said, you can surely guess what we do now on our first day in any new, big city, right?

You got it – the Hop On/Hop Off bus!

I can tell from your frank disbelieving faces that you think I’m kidding.

Story time: our first overseas trip together was in 2007; we went to London (with a brief excursion out, but mostly the city). There are a thousands stories of us being babes in the woods, but the relevant one is that on our first day, we ended up with a lot of time to kill before the thing that we planned to do – a concert in a lovely old church. Without boring you (and reliving some painful memories) let’s just say that we did not use that time very productively and, in fact, had a fairly exhausted and jet-lagged tiff in the courtyard of the church. [We got married several years later, everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.] On the very last day of our trip we visited the Tate Modern Museum and then walked across the Thames on a fancy pedestrian bridge to end up at St. Paul’s Cathedral. As we walked around the building we felt like it was all awfully familiar. Sure enough, we were about 20 feet from where we sat through that misty, chilly morning on our first day. We never realized that we could have stood up, stuck our arms out and spun in a circle, and we’d have smacked several amazing sights worth seeing.*

Ever since then, we’ve happily used the Hop On/Hop Off bus whenever possible, although we rarely actually hop, because the route of these buses invariably is in a rough loop that encloses much of what is interesting in the city. If only for the geography lesson, these things are worth the price of admission.

Sure enough, with the investment of a few hours we saw numerous sites, plus got a starter sampler platter of street life, fashion, customs etc… of Barcelona. The bus also knocks out stuff that we’d probably never make time for but at least we now have in our vocabulary to talk about. For just one example, I can make relevant observations about FC Barcelona’s stadium experience and how it stacks up to your typical NFL stadium (short version: advantage Spaniards). I never wanted to do that, but it’s in my bag now if it ever comes up. And thus it goes for a dozen bits and bobs of life here.

We timed our eventual Hop-off to give us time for dinner before catching an evening walking tour. As it turned out, we didn’t time things quite as elegantly as we’d hoped and had to make decision – push 3 hours on our feet having not eaten since breakfast, or punting the tour and eating. We punted. This actually started to make real something that we’d talked about in the abstract many times. Yes, we are on a special trip, but it’s not exactly the same as a “vacation”. In the old days, when we saved up vacation time for a few years to take a special trip somewhere, we’d have pushed to keep to our itinerary. Naturally, we’d want to make the most of the precious time. Now, however, this is just… well, life. A cool life to be sure, but then that’s the whole point of this, right? Chances are, we’re going to be in Barcelona a dozen times or more – it’s a frequent if not ubiquitous connecting point for travel out of Portugal. So, we weren’t missing our one opportunity, ever, to see whatever was on the walking tour (I’ve forgotten already, I think it was maybe a tour of a particular neighborhood? Lisa says: Yes, the “Gothic Quarter” whatever that means). We were just kicking the can down the road until next time. Realizing this, we opted for keeping ourselves in balance, getting a nice meal, and regroup for tomorrow.

Speaking of a nice meal (you suave devil, you), Lisa is posting restaurant reviews to our facebook page. It seems more timely to pop them in there, plus it lets her get them out of her head while her thoughts are fresh. So if you’d like to see those, please do give a look-see at our facebook. Just a reminder – this isn’t a commercial venture, we’re not trying to soak anybody for ad revenue. We just enjoy writing these things and it’s always more interesting/rewarding when other people are reading along.

*As a point of fact, the Underground map in London is a huge tissue of lies for figuring out where things are above ground.