A) build a cool hotel

B) fill it with awesome stuff

Seeing as how we are pretty much first-class experts at filling thing with awesome stuff, this concept appealed to us, and Karin asked for a room for her birthday.  Done deal.  Because it’s all for the girl, right.  And the massive amount of antique ship models, miniature cannons, brass naval stuff, and free gingerbread cookies (hooray, Sweden) are just a fringe benefit.

The Victory is named after Horatio Nelson‘s flagship at the battle of Trafalgar.  The history geek in me had to think for a second about this – didn’t the Swedes and the English have some unresolved historical snits that a one-armed sailor running amuck around the Baltic would have aggravated?  No such thing, quite the opposite – one wonders whether the name is at least partially a flippant gesture at Danish guests, seeing as how one of Lord Nelson’s earliest naval victories involved beating the living snot out of the fleet of the ever-beloved Danish neighbors at the battle of Copenhagen.  In fact, the only bit of Anglo-Swedish conflict I was able to dig up, the 1810-1812 Anglo-Swedish war, didn’t even see any casualties inflicted by the nefarious English.

So a tribute to Nelson it is, along with rooms named after Swedish sailing ship captains (replete with photos of their ships and unsmiling wives), heavy carpeting, lots of brass and dark wood, and very friendly, accommodating service – not to all you can eat gingerbread.  Hooray!  It is up there with the magnificent Hotel New York in Rotterdam in terms of decor, and unless you get one of the special big suites at the New York, the Victory’s rooms are cooler.  Just write down the address on a piece of paper, because while Swedish cabbies all speak pretty decent English, your hopeless attempts to pronounce even simple street names will cause you to end up in some godawful suburb – thank the stars for flat rate cab fares from the airport.

The receptionist even dug around their defunct “stuff-we-sell” closet when I realized I’d forgotten all of my cuff links at home, and sold me (at a very reasonable price) a pair of pretty spiffy Swedish “three crowns” logo ones.  I am wearing them now.  I am feeling distinctly patriotic leanings toward my cuff links, in fact.

Aside from the world’s slowest elevator (which you will be able to tolerate, because it’s a pretty nice elevator), and slightly thin doors if you have noisy, hyperactive neighbors, it was a decent place – beds were comfortable, noise levels (despite its central old-town location in the middle of Gamla Stan) were acceptable, and right, lots and lots and lots of model ships.  Enough to make you want to take the stairs instead of the elevator.  You’ll probably arrive faster anyway.

www.thecollectorshotels.se/en/victory/
Lilla Nygatan 5
111 28 Stockholm, Sweden
+46 8 506 400 00

We ended up being fed a hearty reasonable meal by the gregarious staff of the sort-of-nearby (if you count a mad dash over the dramatic hills toward nearby Gairloch) Myrtle Bank Hotel – dinner with a view and without the proto-Victorian guilt of having dared to show up late to the great table d’hôte of the Pool House.  They did maintain that they found the staff there a bit weird, and that we weren’t the first people who’d turned up at the Myrtle Bank’s doorstep, hungry, with confused looks in their eyes.

Their food was fine, the whiskey was good, and the latter notwithstanding, we managed to make it back over the hills…to attack the Pool House’s outstanding supply of single malts.

As in, holy crap, how much booze do you people have?  (The answer:  a lot.)

The proprietor, an elderly gentleman named Peter, also knew his stuff pretty well – in between regaling us with tales of World War II heroism (not his, alas, but the place is plastered in regimental badges, military photos, and, well, whiskey bottles), I really started appreciating the booze I’d been dropping ice cubes into.  I’m determined not to become a whiskey snob like so many of my acquaintances, but damn, that’s some good stuff there once someone actually sets you straight about how to drink it.

Our experience turned out to be a bit less odd than the initial impression suggested it might – as everything about the place was beautifully tasteful and steeped in the sort of stiff-upper-lip English expensive landed gentry air the owners wanted to convey – down to the copious name-dropping of famous guests at any opportunity.  But weirdly, although I’m usually really sensitive to that sort of thing, it didn’t detract from the vast suite, the incredible view of the wild Loch just out back, and the fit-for-a-day-of-wrasslin-highland-cattle breakfasts served on fine china and silver.

Only on our last day, when we were subjected to a weird bit of nostalgic justification for popular eugenics by one of the nice people there (“people used to be strong, but it’s because of all the breeding with weak stock that they aren’t anymore, I mean, you wouldn’t do that with race horses, would you?”) that we made some funny faces at each other.   Whoa, heavy.  But really, they all turned out to be really nice.  Especially Spodge the amazing friendly toothless cat.

But it was okay, because they also served some really good haggis, and that counts for a lot.

Poolewe
Achnasheen, Wester-Ross IV22 2LD, United Kingdom
01445 781 272
pool-house.co.uk

Northern Scotland’s not really remarkable for its historic architecture, some charming old fishing towns and a few dramatic, dark castles facing the pounding swells of the North Atlantic notwithstanding, but there are a few gems nonetheless.  This one, an old church, restored by the couple who runs it, is sited a few miles South of the coast, in an incredibly hard-to-find (at least the first two times, at night, despite the pretty cool British system of assigning postal codes to small areas, our GPS landed us up dirt tracks in someone’s farm, apparently the nominal center of that code’s purview) network of back-roads.

Not really a problem, as the vistas are dramatic and sweeping, much more open than the mad landscapes of the central highlands.  With the wind whipping across the fields and the golden evening light turning everything a much warmer color than the weird pastels we often get on the Continent, you want to stand up in your heavy fisherman’s sweater, smoking your pipe, and shout things about the glory of cod fishing.

Wait, I’m getting carried away.

It’s perfect as a base for day trips to the Orkneys, although getting up at stupid o’clock in order to catch the ferry wasn’t our idea of fun.  That said, Chris, the insanely energetic proprietor (and in that sense, the polar opposite of his friendly-but-timid wife) seemed hugely enthusiastic about whipping up a delicious and interesting breakfast creation for us…at aforementioned stupid o’clock.  Good man, that’s what built the empire.

The rooms are small but comfortable (unfortunately, I’m neither the most svelte nor the most graceful denizen, so I kept banging into things in the bathroom, and the living room feels like someone’s cozy home.  Because I guess that’s exactly what it is.  Good stuff.

Brabsterdorran
Bower
Caithness
KW1 4TT
Scotland
+44 (0) 1955 661222
www.caithnesshistory.co.uk

More specifically, I want to own a hotel that someone else runs, and to have enough money to not give a rat’s ass when I get tired of it and want to go fly my helicopter to hunt Arctic tundra snipes with machine guns or drive my private submarine through Thor’s Twins.  So in the meantime, since I’ve given up on the idea of ever having millions of my own (I’ll blame the bankers, everyone else does, plus they’re all bastards and thieves anyway) I’ll go hang out at other people’s château hotels and spend my days in the sun, not worrying about it.

Good thing that, not worrying – letting you turn blasé and lazy is always a mark of a successful resort.  This one’s just perfect that way, located in an old castle in Provence that was done up by a Parisian couple who’d had enough of the rat race – well, he has, at least – he spends his time in the place, working on his cooking techniques, which we unfortunately didn’t get the chance to sample, while she jets back to the capital to work as some sort of consultant during the week.

Egad, they do a great job of it, and the rustic-but-tasteful infrastructure doesn’t hurt.  The result is a warm, friendly, welcoming atmosphere in gorgeous surroundings – the view alone is worth a million bucks, and being able to take it in during a lazy weekend breakfast on their sunny terrace makes the long drive South entirely worthwhile.

Rue du Château
F-84210 Saint-Didier, FR
+33 (0) 4 90 61 68 77 ‎
www.chateaularoque.com

Which we were, of course.

Nice old town, groups of nasal-voiced flat-footed flip-flopped American college girls, giant spectacular castle with a weekend Loire valley wine tasting (where you pay admission), right, nice generic-ish tourist town, perfectly pleasant, but for us, world-weary, uber-blasé jetsetters, merely a stop on the way up up and away!

I have no idea how to rewrite that without sounding like a pompous ass so I won’t.  Go away.

Karin (as usual) worked her black magic and found us a surprisingly reasonably priced, really cute one star place for dinner and a room, thus giving us the double whammy of not having to brave both Parisian traffic and 600km of highway on our way to the exotic jungles of the French Atlantic coast, and then me not having to drive another two hours to and from wherever we ended up for dinner.

Bravo.

No, seriously.

This restaurant appears to be renowned for its service – and rightfully so.  More than the very-good-but-not-awesome dinner (again, there is no way of writing that without sounding snotty.  It was good.  Very good.  It was not awesome), the cute room (wish they’d put a curtain on that upper window, though, it’s pretty bright at night) in our own cottage, and the absolutely incredibly unbelievably redundantly stupefyingly…well, awesome, staff made it.

Not even the weird Russian girl with the enormous cleavage seated next to us, alternating between visibly jonesing for a smoke on an industrial scale, and staring fascinatedly over toward whatever-the-hell-it-was we were doing, could detract from them.  Good wine list, excellent garden (no, really excellent), nice decor, and yes, good solid food and desserts beat weird enormous Russian cleavage by a mile.  That, and they give you outstanding free caramels in your room. Two thumbs up.

2 rue de Concy

91330 Yerres, FR
+33 (0) 1 69 06 86 29
chaletduparc.fr

Correction:  Karin finally bought a GPS, even if it is one that tries to lead me into fields occasionally and reports non-existent speed traps a few seconds before they are supposed to show up, and until we shut her up, its disembodied Irish voice having disapprovingly waved us off just one too many futile searches for cidre bouché on an “unnamed road” (we didn’t find cider, only lots of jealousy at the amazing places dotting the Breton countryside.  Bastards.)

Le Launay is one of those places, but more magnificent than most – the sort of pile belonging to one of those French families whose business is Having More Money Than You.  It’s a constant mystery to me how such fortunes could survive the grabby socialist 150% marginal tax rates of the 1980s or the insane French attitude toward money we encounter even today – but I suppose that, as is the case everywhere, the rules only apply to you and me and the rest of the common people.

And castles, and horses, and high powered aeroplanes and private ninja assassin hit squads and and and.  Bastards.  Mom, dad, why wasn’t I born a billionaire, with a silver spoon full of caviar crammed down my plutocratic spoiled gullet?

To her credit, though, the owner of the château is pretty gracious and friendly.  I would be too, if I lived in the middle of a beautiful countryside on a palatial estate.

Rooms are huge and tasteful (makes a certain amount of sense, since it apparently caters mainly to CEOs on junke^H^H^H^H^Hteam-building exercises), the beds are among the most comfortable I’ve ever slept in, and except for the insanely cantankerous, loud heating that starts bubbling and acting up at 3 a.m., it’s a perfect place for a relaxing weekend.   And there’s samurai armor in the hallway upstairs, remote controlled sailboats to borrow, and a rack full of shotguns and hunting accessories for the accomplished corporate chief executive to use for practicing his leadership skills on the local waterfowl.

Someone should really tell them that their dogs are defective, though – they look at me like I’m a space alien when I try to throw a stick in the park.  Hurr durr.

I never figured out exactly what a Launay is, though.

56160 Ploërdut, FR
+33 (0)2 97 39 46 32
www.chateaudulaunay.fr

Karin found this gem through her usual sneaky cool-places-finding-techniques that are scary and inscrutable and I think she’s gotten used to the idea that I’m hopeless at finding cool places to stay and she should just accept that she’s better than me at it.

The 16th century castle, probably used as a repository for some sort of royal forest harem back in the day, has an enormous walled park around it, the kind in which you expect to see happy deer prancing across the road (at least, they have “beware of deer prancing across road” signs), and peasants milling around outside the gate, angrily shaking their fists at the nobility chasing prancing deer around the forest inside.

Actually, the only peasants we ran into milling about outside the gate were two drunk-looking local kids, one of whom was furtively trying to take a leak by the roadside, while his buddy didn’t really seem to know what to do about the car exiting the grounds right as his friend’s draining the dragon against the evil Count’s forest wall.

The evil Count probably wouldn’t have given much of a damn, after a day of hunting happy prancing deer and hanging local peeing peasants by their genitals as a warning to the others…ok, maybe he would have given a damn.

Wait, what was the point again?

Right, castle.  It’s a hotel, in the middle of a Disneyland wonderland of a meadow, under a clear starry night (with very large bats, but that’s okay, bats are cool).  It’s also a Relai du Silence, so nice and quiet, and I just wish it had been sunny enough to have breakfast on the terrace outside.  The lawn cries out to you, John, John, come sit on me and read a book in the sunshine, and driving through the park makes you feel like you’re the evil Count, coming home from a long day of…you get the idea.

37800 Noyant de Touraine, FR
+33 (0) 2 47 65 80 80
www.chateau-de-brou.fr

The whole point of this particular journal was originally to serve as a list of “stuff I like”.  It’s not a page for restaurant criticism or ratings, since (a) critics are lame and add no value to society, and (b) if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it — my usual snarky comments notwithstanding.

Since Karin and I are fortunate enough to be able to eat out and travel a fair amount, we tend to run across a great number of amazing places.  As a result, people sometimes ask me for recommendations, so rather than racking my addled memory for ideas, I just give them this link.

In that vein, this is a short attempt to create a list of things to check out if you’re visiting / moving to Paris.  It’s not a definitive or complete list by far, nor do I make any claim to describe secret, hip, “in” things.  It is a work in progress, and I’ll add/edit things as I think of them — suggestions are welcome.

Most importantly, you’ll want a good guide, and a bunch of time.

Restaurants & Bars

I’ve made an effort to list all my favorites already.  There are numerous search options.

• By map:  go here and check the map in the sidebar.  Zoom in on Paris.
• By tag:  I’ve tried to do a reasonable job of categorizing places by what I think best describes them.  Click on the category in the tag cloud on the right hand side.  Unfortunately, the map search by tag doesn’t seem to work.
• By location in the title
• By search (top right field) — does not search by category
• By category search (widget at right side)

Most of the places on my list are not that cheap, although there are exceptions.  There are neat wine bars around the city, such as Le Rubis, which charge a song for a glass of wine and a nice heaping place of good meat and cheese.  I haven’t bothered writing about it, as a good friend was chased out by the screaming, vaguely psychotic proprietress after accidentally breaking a cheap Ikea glass – but if you don’t mind the possibility of a bit of local color, go for it.

Another great budget option is to picnic in any of the many parks or on the quays bordering the river — one favorite is this area just NW of the Pont Neuf.  Great on a sunny day, and I really don’t know why you’d bother visiting on a budget when it’s not nice out.  I did an experiment once with some friends, called the €5 wine challenge.  Every week, I’d buy a couple of bottles of red (usually Bordeaux) at a supermarket, ubiquitous in the city, with a limit of 5 bucks per bottle.  We never got a bad one, and some of the plonk was actually more than decent.

Avoid the crappy fast food places like Quick or McDonalds, the city has a wealth of cafés and brasseries that often serve decent food, as well as boulangeries (bakeries) with occasionally pretty decent sandwiches.   Paul is a chain of bakeries that I’m a fan of.  There are also vergers (green grocers) and markets with a wealth of fresh, diverse produce.

If you’re just visiting, go have hot chocolate and macarons at Ladurée (preferably the one on Rue Royale).  The line out the door is probably for the shop, so make sure you’re not waiting for nothing.  The downstairs room is much nicer than upstairs.

Remember that Thursday night is when a lot of people go out.  Lunch tends to be late, starting around 13:00 — most restaurants won’t serve food before 12:30.

Not all the food is good, by far.  But it’s generally a pretty safe bet if a place is reasonably crowded (or, it may just be a tourist trap.  That said, I’ve eaten extremely well even in places with menus in 30 languages outside).  Do try things you haven’t had before.

Hotels & Lodging, Living-Here-Logistics

No clue about hotels.  As far as I can tell, you should be able to find a reasonably central 2-star place for around €100-€150 a night pretty easily.  If you’re on the cheap, check out couchsurfing.  With hotels, as with everything else in this city, sky’s the limit price-wise.

If you’re staying for longer, there are any number of managed apartment sites.  An email acquaintance pointed out Paris Attitude, which seemed to have some decent flats.  Otherwise, have a look at Se Loger, that’s where we found ours.  French laws and contractual issues concerning rentals are too vast to go into, so ensure that you find a good expat site to explain them to you.  Suffice it to say that it appears furnished and unfurnished apartments fall into different categories of tenants’ rights.  As always, inform yourself thoroughly before moving anywhere.

The same goes for taxes, pensions, whatnot.  There are plenty of expat resources out there that can do a vastly better job at explaining how things work than I could.

Transportation

If you’re moving here, you can order a Navigo pass for free (just the card).  Often, employers pay up to half the subscriptions to various transportation offers, involving various zones in Paris’ RATP – bus, Métro, funiculars, and RER (suburban trains) — system.  Paris By Train has schedules.  The national rail system is the SNCF, for anything outside of Paris.   I prefer the RER to buses for getting to/from Charles de Gaulle airport — they get badly stuck in traffic sometimes.  Orly has a connection via RER, from which you have to switch to the Orlyval tram service.

You can also buy a “carnet” of 10 tickets for €12 at any ticket machine in Métro stations (they take credit cards with chips, some accept cash) or from the ticket desks.

The Navigo card can also be used for a monthly or annual Vélib subscription (borrow-bikes that let you take a bicycle from any of a ton of stations around the city) — usage is free for half an hour, then you are charged.  You can also buy 24h or weekly passes at the Vélib stations (you  may need a credit card with a chip, many American cards do not work.)  Biking in Paris is great, just pay attention.  Bike lanes are usually indicated on major roads — in some neighborhoods, you’re allowed to go against the flow of one-way streets.

Taxis are fairly common, but you may have trouble finding one at peak times (rush hour, Saturday nights).  Minimum charge is €5.60, with extras for a fourth passenger and additional suitcases.

Museums

I love the Musée Rodin and the Musée d’Orsay, the former especially in summer when you can explore the sculpture garden.  The Orsay does Thursday night dinners for €55/person in the beautiful old waiting salon of the former railway station (you must reserve) that include a visit to the museum after it closes.  You can get a “passport” to visit both of these at a reduced price.

The Louvre is just huge and amazing, too much to take in.  You will wait in line.  Avoid the crowds of Japanese tourists vying for a picture of the Mona Lisa, it’s not that great a picture.

With all three of the above, I recommend booking in advance.  Check the websites for details.

A smaller favorite museum of mine is the Carnavalet, in the Marais, dealing with Parisian history.

If you’re into militaria, visit Les Invalides.  The entrance to Napoleon’s tomb is around the back — it’s pretty impressive.

The Grand Palais sometimes does exhibitions — some of these tend to be booked out long in advance, some are free.  It’s a very nice example of glass and steel architecture.

Check the hoardings in the Métro — special exhibitions are usually advertised.

Sightseeing & Culture

All the big Parisian sights have been described to death.  Do all the touristy stuff if it’s your first time — Eiffel Tower (get there really early if you want to climb it), the Arc de Triomphe (lots of steps), Montmartre / Sacre-Coeur (watch for scam artists and pickpockets), Notre Dame, Saint-Sulpice, and the Paris river boat tour (bateaux mouches — there are several private companies), they’re all fun.  Don’t listen to anyone who snottily tells you to avoid the “usual” tourist crap.  Hey, you’re in Paris.  Be stupid.

If you’re an architecture geek, La Défense has some cool modern buildings.

A fellow reddit reader posted an interesting resource — Flickr map of photos taken in the city — red dots for pictures taken by tourists, blue dots for those taken by locals.  Draw your own conclusions.

The catacombs are a great visit — I’ve been told by friends who’ve visited some of the many many miles of off-limits underground tunnels that the bits open for tourists are actually the nicest parts.  You will probably wait in line for a while.  Try to get near a big tourist group, as they tend to stick together, leaving you a lot of peace and quiet.  It’s pretty tranquil.  I have some photos online.

Visit Versailles — both the gardens and the castle.  If you’re lucky, you can catch a show in the gardens.  Here is the link to the program and tickets page.  Trains run very frequently from Paris.

One of my absolute favorite things to do is to listen to the organ concerts at Notre Dame.  They’re every Sunday at 16:30, admission is free.  There are also amazing concerts in the evenings — check the previous link for an updated schedule.  You can buy tickets for usually less than €10 at the church entrance.  Make sure you arrive about an hour before the concert starts for a good seat.

Opéra Garnier does sightseeing tours.  If you can swing opera tickets, the box seats are extremely expensive (€150 upwards) but entirely worth it.  Make sure you get the Palais Garnier and not the Bastille opera.  You will have to book months in advance, and be very lucky.  Bring a tux, so you can look like a suave badass while having intermission champagne on the balcony overlooking the square.

Paris has a load of arcades (“passages couvertes“) — indoor shopping arcades from the late 19th century.  They’re as interesting for their architecture as for the weird shops you may find (for example, the area around Bourse is full of stamp and coin collectors’ shops, and the passage just North of it has about 10-15 of them.  A beautiful one is just West of Place des Victoires, on Rue des Petits Champs, just between Rue de Richelieu and the Rue de la Banque.

Arriving by TGV or Eurostar is pretty nifty, if you get here via one of the many Parisian train stations (Gare de l’Est, Gare du Nord, and Gare du Lyon, maybe others) with spectacular vaulted steel arrival halls.  Try to arrive at night, the stations have tinny-sounding loudspeakers that make you feel like you’re in a 1930s movie.  Try not to arrive during big French travel dates.  In fact, try not to get near Paris on big French travel dates.  Just don’t.

Areas and Neighborhoods

These are generally pretty touristy, but also contain beautiful areas that are not too overrun.   You have to find them.

Le Marais is the old Jewish and gay (!) quarter in the 3rd and 4th arrondissements.  Tons of shops, restaurants, narrow alleys, and museums — it’s one of the few areas in Paris open on Sundays, when much of it shuts down for most motorized traffic, but it is also jam-packed with tourists.  A great time to see it is early in the morning, before people start going to work.

Rive Gauche / Quartier Latin — area in the 5th and 6th (the Quartier Latin much more so).  Best to just explore for yourself.

Montmartre, including up from Métro stations Abbesses (go North for some cool twisty streets and areas full of cafés) and Anvers (for Sacre Coeur)

There is a rough quadrilateral described by the Rue Saint-Honoré on the South, Les Halles (which is pretty scummy) on the East, the Blvd. des Capucines / 4 Septembre on the North, and Rue Royal on the West that is full of small shops, restaurants, and bars.  It tends to be a bit cuter and less up-scale.

Nearby, just to the East of Bastille, there’s an area in the 11e full of bars and restaurants.  I can recommend the bit along the 8 line to about Ledru-Rollin.  Wander.

Definitely check out the Canal Saint Martin if it’s a reasonably warm night – that’s where the kids hang out.  Especially the section just South of the Hotel du Nord has a great atmosphere.

Parks & Cemeteries

Père Lachaise is worth a visit.  Entry is free, and if you’re lucky, you’ll meet one of the friendly old coots who give tours for tips.

There are tons of parks around, the most notable and significant ones being the Tuileries, the Jardin de Luxembourg, and the Jardin des Plantes.  If you’re in a hurry, the former two are more worthwhile.  The Place des Vosges is small, but beautiful and old and impressive and all that jazz, but it’s usually full of kids hanging out and smoking in summer.

When it’s warm, it’s also great to hang out along the Seine and in the little park on the Ile Saint-Louis I mentioned in the Restaurants and Bars section above.

There are tons of smaller parks that are hidden away, like the gardens of the Palais-Royal or innumerable small parks in the Marais, as well as larger areas like Buttes Chaumont, Bois de Vincennes, and the Bois de Boulogne, if you’re looking for some greenery.

Safety

Paris is very safe compared to a lot of large cities.  People are used to tourists.  Nonetheless, don’t be an idiot.  Don’t flash jewelry, put your camera away (and if you have a nice DSLR, buy something like a good anti-theft travel strap (this is the one I use — a side benefit is that you don’t have a huge ugly Nikon/Canon logo on your shoulder), be mindful of bad areas (i.e. if you’re walking around Rue Saint Denis or somewhere around the outer 18th/19th at 2 in the morning, something bad may happen).  Don’t leave bags under your table or unattended, etc. etc. etc. — but being the seasoned traveler you are, you know all this.  Right?

Tips for Getting On

Disregard anyone who recommends avoiding Paris in August / early September.  It is not nearly as empty as people make it out to be, you can find parking (and it’s free), the weather tends to be nice, there are not nearly as many people, and it’s generally my favorite time of year in the city.

I humbly implore you, don’t be obnoxious.  Parisians have a sometimes deserved, sometimes unfair reputation as being snotty and arrogant, but I’ve generally just found them to be very high-strung and stressed.  This city moves fast, and people don’t get enough sleep.  Just keep that in mind.  Stay polite, smile (they may think that you are a retard, but that’s okay, they’ll just feel sorry for you and be nice), and don’t take them seriously when they get snippy.  If you run into trouble, throw yourself on the mercy of people, that goes over very well, in general.

Try to speak the language.  Don’t shout.  Don’t whine.  Don’t call waiters “garçon” — in fact, use monsieur/madame a lot.  I’ve mostly encountered Parisians as fairly correct and polite, but as with anywhere, your mileage may vary.  I used to think that New Yorkers ate their young, until I visited.

Try not to dress like a tourist.  Baggy, ill-fitting jeans, tennis shoes, fanny packs, college sweat shirts and windbreakers, backpacks, and baseball caps don’t really work.  The well-dressed Parisian is a stereotype, but with a grain of truth.  If you dress reasonably elegantly (although a lot of kids run around in jeans and t-shirts in summer, you see a fair proportion of slovenly dressers) you’ll be taken a bit more seriously.

Mind the dog shit, there is a lot of it.  Always scan 30m ahead on the sidewalks.  Gaps between cars are especially treacherous.

Please don’t give money to beggars.

Try to find a small map; all kiosks sell very handy small blue books with maps by arrondissement, as well as public transit maps, for a few Euros.  They may not necessarily include all tiny side streets, but you’ll find them far more comfortable than having to unfold a massive map every time you’re lost (which will happen).

Most importantly, don’t over think things too much, and have fun.

We pretty much failed on the bit about avoiding-French-tourists, at least judging by the packed SriLankan Airlines flight from Charles de Gaulle (agreeable enough, despite its length, the broken in-flight AV system, and the forebodingly awful food).  And Karin twisting/fracturing/mauling her knee on the last day of skiing over Christmas didn’t help.  Life is good, life is harsh.

Things didn’t look tremendously promising on the “warm refuge” front either, as we touched down in a rain squall that seemed to mock any idea I might have had of seeing a bit of sunshine in the foreseeable future — returning, as I just had, from a miserably rain-sodden trip to San Francisco.  I am like the truck driver in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, drawing crappy weather along with me, holiday resorts should pay me to stay away.  Whoopee.

It turned out all right, though, as we pretty much slept through the first day and night, interrupted by the occasional poolside drink and meal, and a dinner stop (that of the excessively generous cab fare) at the hilariously proportioned Cinnamon Grand hotel’s Lagoon restaurant — not bad once we’d convinced the maitre d’ that no, we would not sit in the arctic air conditioned main dining room, and no, we would not bite her head off for giving the nice table by the water side to a couple of whiny bossy Arabs (“they have no manners!  Think they are better with their oil money!”  I think we have a new best friend) and no, we didn’t mind eating at the big table with a bunch of French kids (!) in the same situation.

Our hotel was singularly well equipped to let us get that rest, despite the noise and smoke outside.  The Casa Colombo is a beautifully apportioned, generously sized old villa, with only twelve rooms and suites; even our “small” room was bigger than one of my former apartments.  The local kids who staff it (“Casa Domo” — “hello, my name is Arun, I will be your butler”) are enthusiastic and friendly, and everything in the place seems like someone put some thought into it.  As usual, this was one of Karin’s finds, I don’t even know why she bothers asking me to look for some of our hotels, she’s so much better at it.

Granted, there are a few little hiccups every now and then, and the food’s good-not-great, but they’re cute more than anything else, and don’t in the least detract from the place — rather, making it a bit more human, if that’s possible.  As I write this, sitting in the sun next to a gurgling fountain in the lovely front courtyard, I haven’t received the bar bill yet, so maybe it’s better to praise the hotel for its fantastic service and comfortable, agreeable, stylish amenities before the sticker shock (note to self:  next time grab a cab from the airport rather than a transfer, so far, along with the cab-ride-cum-it’s-raining-tourist-dollars drive to the restaurant, that was one of our more expensive experiences so far.)

Oh, and the sun came out. Whee!

231 Galle Road, Bambalapitiya
Colombo 4, LK
+94 114 520 130
www.casacolombo.com

Thankfully, when traveling to Germany, it’s not necessary to hang out with the retired pipefitter tour groups; in their defense, the French family hanging out in the same general area infested with overweight open-mouth-chewing Teutonic she-beasts nattering on in awfully accented Swabian, didn’t do much to contribute to the peace and quiet in beautiful Riquewihr, France.  To the father’s credit, though, he effectively and swiftly dealt with his squealing demon-child by backing him against a wall, running the baby carriage into the backs of the toddler’s knees, then lifting it up like a wheelbarrow, leaving the child flailing helplessly in his bucket seat.  The moment the boy opened his mouth to catch his breath for another earth-shattering wail, dad plugged the little guy’s cakehole with a pacifier and went grinningly on his way.  Ten points for style, Monsieur.

We were about to discuss Germany.  Right.

Despite the relative paucity of nice family-run boutique hotels, Grieshaber’s Rebstock stands out.  Just across the river from Strasbourg, located in the antiseptically personality-free border town of Kehl (to get there, take the A35 highway exit to Offenburg, located South of Strasbourg, rather than going through the traffic light hell of that city’s Eastern district), it’s a superb value when compared to the awful Balladins and Ibis you encounter in France if you don’t feel like taking out a mortgage for an overnight gastronomical excursion.

Not just that, but the hotel restaurant is brilliant, with a good selection of wines.  We had a beautifully done leg of venison.  Service was exceptional, and the breakfast buffet (too bad about the loudly shouting hung over wedding group, but that’s life) was of high quality to match.  Breakfast on the terrace in summer is especially nice.

I don’t know what it is about a lot of German hotels, but they seem a bit clinical and calculated in their decoration, like someone put up some very clean and thought-through white tiling and then added a few personal touches as an afterthought.  The Rebstock has a little of this, but not nearly enough for it to be distracting.  If you can, get one of the boutique rooms.  Oh, and they have little red gummi hearts at reception.  They’re really good.  I only wish their guests knew how to park.

Hauptstr. 183
D-77694 Kehl / Rhein
+49 (0) 7851 / 9 10 40
www.rebstock-kehl.de