Radiohead.  Thanks for the concert tickets Alyson!

As the train rumbled north from Avignon, the trees transitioned to hues of red, orange, and yellow.  It was autumn and Strasbourg was cold. Continue reading


Our week in Paris wasn’t all honeymooning and sunshine.  In fact, there wasn’t any sunshine whatsoever.  And while we were there to experience “the real Paris“, I guess I wouldn’t have minded some unseasonably warm weather.  Everyone in the city was coughing and sneezing, and by the end of the week, we were both sick, and sick of being wet and cold.

On our way to the train station, hoping to leave rainy Paris behind

On our way to the Paris train station, hoping to leave the rain behind

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City of Light

Another shot of the Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower

We left Munich hungover.  Not hungover from the alcohol (we’d forced ourselves to drink about a gallon of water on the way home from Oktoberfest), but the sudden transition from revelry to packing up all of our possessions, throwing them onto our backs again, and heading to another train station.  We’d loved Munich and had a sense that we were leaving too soon.  That feeling faded, however, as the bullet train raced toward Paris.  Our seats were in the very front of the train and we could see right into the cockpit.  As the scenery whipped passed us, the speedometer read 320 km/hr (200 mph). Continue reading