There is a wonderful town along Lake Como, called Tremezzo. Most people have heard of Bellagio, which sits on the exact shore opposite Tremezzo, but the lesser known town is a true gem with far fewer tourists crowding the streets. Tremezzo is home to a couple of our favorite restaurants and gelaterie (ice cream parlors). It is also home to Villa Carlotta, a 17th century treasure that has been beautifully restored and maintained.
Villa Carlotta
Jen and I have been wanting to visit Villa Carlotta since we moved to Como. The beauty of the villa and the gardens are well known in this area and attract thousands of visitors each year. We had planned on going in March when my aunt and uncle were visiting, but the villa is not open to the public until the 15th (just a few short days after they departed). Since the gardens are the main attraction, the preservation society wants to ensure all the flowers are in full bloom. Jen and I decided that since my mom is a big fan of gardens, we would visit while they were here (read about the first part of their trip HERE).
Julia peeks out from behind her Grandma and Pop-Pop
We had planned a drive along the lake to arrive in Tremezzo just in time for lunch. We took my parents to one of our favorite restaurants, La Fagurida that we had discovered some time ago (blog post HERE). Their specialty is rabbit – and once again, we were not disappointed with the food.
Jen and Sonny outside of La Fagurida
Julia was all kisses after lunch
After lunch, we drove back down the long and windy mountain road toward the center of town. We parked and got our admission tickets to the villa. We spent some time walking through the villa, but the real beauty was in walking through the elaborate and seemingly endless gardens.
Villa Carlotta, Museum and Botanical Garden
Impressive stairway leading to an impressive facade
The ornate gardens begin the moment you enter the grounds
Julia stops for a photo with her grandparents, Stefani and Sonny
She was amazed by the turtle pond
There were half a dozen of these little guys
View from the front of the villa’s terrace overlooking Lake Como
A mom and a grandma snap pictures of our little Julia
They had oranges growing in the trellis that Julia wanted to pluck
Julia strikes a fashionable pose on the terrace
The villa was positioned to overlook the town of Bellagio, across Lake Como
Priceless works of art adorn each room in the villa
Jen and Julia stop for a picture in the villa
I have copied a brief description of Villa Carlotta directly from the brochure, if you are interested in a bit of it’s unique history:
Villa Carlotta is a place of rare beauty, where masterpieces of nature and art live together in perfect harmony in over 70,000 square meters (17 acres) of garden and museum. The beautiful villa was built at the end of the 17th century in a natural basin between lake and mountains, facing the dolomitic Grignas and the peninsula of Bellagio. The architect created for the Clericis – a noble and powerful Milanese family – an important but somber building, with an Italian garden decorated with sculptures, stairs and fountains. In 1801 Gian Battista Sommariva, famous politician, businessman and patron of arts, bought the villa. Thanks to him, the villa attained the summit of its splendor and became one of the most important halting-place of the Grand Tour with its collection of art (masterpieces of Canova, Thorvaldsen and Hayez) and its fascinating romantic garden. In the second half of the century Princess Marianne of Nassau bought the villa and gave it as a present to her daughter Carlotta in occasion of her wedding with Georg II of Saxe-Meiningen. Georg was passionate about botany and made a lot of improvements and new additions to the park that became more and more famous for its botanical richness and the rhododendrons’ and azaleas’ spring flowering.
The beauty of the gardens did not disappoint, we all enjoyed each moment of the self-guided tour.
Overlooking Como and Bellagio
Julia couldn’t get enough of the rhododendrons
We had to stop and smell almost every flower
One of my favorite pictures of Julia
Always the lady… or flirt?!
Giving Pop-Pop as kiss as thanks for the ride
Climbing the stairs in La valle delle felci (the valley of ferns)
Walking through Il giardino dei bambù (the gardens of bamboo)
Still in the Bamboo Garden
Julia runs quickly across a stone table
Calocedrus decurrens
Views from all angles
Julia had to play with the fountains one last time
She insisted on making a little splash
Villa Carlotta, more specifically – the gardens of Villa Carlotta are simply stunning to behold. I would strongly recommend copying our itinerary and enjoying pranzo (lunch) at La Fagurida before spending countless hours getting lost in the gardens of Villa Carlotta.
I’ve always been amazed by my father’s dad, even though I have very few memories spending time with him. My “Poppy” was a career photographer for National Geographic. He was born before the turn of the century (February 24, 1898… have you ever known anyone from the 1800’s?!) in a rural town in Delaware that even today only boasts a few hundred residents. He raised his family in Washington DC and got to travel the world for his work (long before traveling the world was something you actually did). These are all things that I find particularly fascinating and I have discovered we even have a few parallels in our lives. Except, he was a rather short man and I’m basically what you call basketball height (5’9″ is about the tallest you’ll see on the court, right?).
A scene along Lago di Maggiore
Of all those attributes, his long-standing career with National Geographic is probably the most interesting to me (and one I’m happy to brag about). On a whim one day (several years ago), my sister-in-law, Jessica googled his name and was surprised at the results. Over 400 of his images appeared on websites like art.com and others (I’m still researching how I can lay claim to the royalties… lawyers feel free to message me). Jessica conspired with Jen and they surprised me with an huge print of one of his 1950’s Washington DC images (I was living downtown at the time). Since Jen’s parents, Dominic and Diane had just purchased their condo in the Lake Como, Jessica and Diane also purchased one of his more famous 1950’s lake images in order to surprise me twice, as well as Jen. When the gifts were presented, my dad, beaming with pride ran out of the room for a moment and came back with the two original copies of National Geographic magazines that contained those exact images. I kept one magazine with my image at my home in Washington DC, and we took the other magazine to Dominic and Diane’s condo in Italy to be with the print that now hangs above our bed.
My grandfather’s photo that appeared in the August 1950 issue of National Geographic
I promise, there’s a reason I’m giving such a long account of my personal family history and it all ties back to my wonderful wife. Not only was she thoughtful enough to present me with this great present a few years ago, but she also had a fantastic idea for a day-trip when my parents came to visit, which they did recently.
Julia was all smiles when her “Pop-Pop” and Grandma got off the plane. My folks had been with us to Lake Como before, but this was the first time in warm weather. They were excited to see everything with new eyes, all over again.
“Benvenuto, Pop-pop and Grandma”
Julia shows them around Italy
We had a long, but flexible plan laid out. We went to a small nearby lake, Lago di Montorfano and had a picnic.
Julia splashes in Lago di Montorfono right by our house
Then she needed a little gelato to cool down
We went for a drive along Lake Como and visited one of our favorite towns, Menaggio.
Stefani and Sonny are all smiles in Menaggio
Julia wanted to tell Pop-Pop a secret
I think she told him to smile
Julia can’t hog all the kisses from Pop-pop and Grandma
She wanted to touch the water but would get startled at each little wave crash
We also took a day trip to Monza – a town famous for the Formula 1 races that are held in the streets each September.
In front of the chiesa (church)
Julia insisted on “petting” the lion
And of course, we visited downtown Como. On the day we were in Como, there was Fiat 500 rally in Piazza Cavour. Recently, I was telling some American friends about this gathering of miniature vehicles and describing the car as the “Fiat Cinquecento”. They were looking at me like they had no idea what I was talking about and I was getting more and more frustrated – “Come on… I know that you know what I’m talking about. They’ve been in the States for a long time now. The little car. The Cinquecento!” Finally, I realized that I had been saying “five hundred” in Italian and so it wasn’t making any sense to him!
Classic old Fiat 500’s
This guy had his 500 equipped right – barrels of wine attached to the roof!
Hey, even security needs a little vino!
Of all the day trips though, Jennifer had planned something that eclipsed them all. She had decided that we would find the exact spot where my grandfather captured his lake image and recreate the exact same photo. I thought this was a marvelous idea, but equated it to finding a needle in the haystack. I think my dad thought it was the best idea he had ever heard and didn’t doubt for a moment that we would find the location. Since we had the original magazine, we read the account of the photo described by my grandfather. He captioned the photo, Summer Villas in Tiny Ronco Flank the Shores of Europe’s Deepest Lake, Maggiore, Shared by Switzerland and Italy. So it turned out that the image was actually taken on the Swiss side of a lake that crosses the border of both Italy and Switzerland. We knew the lake – Maggiore and we knew the town – Ronco. Some quick time spent on google confirmed that Ronco was a small village and so I became confident that we could cover the shoreline by foot and car fairly easily.
Some sailboats in Ronco
On a clear day, we packed up the car and set out toward the northwest corner of Lake Maggiore. The journey would take about two hours crossing some beautiful countryside. When we arrived in Ronco, I cruised the shoreline for a while looking for anything that resembled the photo. Nothing stood out. That’s OK… no reason to panic. It was time for lunch anyways, so we stopped to reward ourselves with a wonderful lunch overlooking the beautiful lake.
“Cin-cin, Dad!”
A happy couple eating lunch that overlooks the lake
Julia makes a silly face while eating her pasta (and she also made a big mess)
After a leisurely lunch it was time to go back to work. Since we had covered the south side of the village and the car was already parked, I made the decision to go north by foot. We walked for a bit. Then we walked further. Finally, I spotted it. But it wasn’t right. So we pushed on. Everyone’s pace slowed. But I remained confident it was just around the bend. It was not. Eventually, the sidewalk ended and I was pretty sure we had left Ronco twenty minutes prior. Sadly, we turned back to the car, but not before stopping at a bar to talk to the locals. I asked the proprietor if he was familiar with the location of my image (I had printed a copy to take with me). With barely a glance, he said “sì, sì. Conosco quel posto. Questo è Ascona” (yes, yes I know that place. That is Ascona). Wait, what? Ascona – the town about 10 kilometers up the road? He couldn’t be right, could he?
Julia marches through Ascona on the hunt for Poppy’s spot
We piled back in the car and drove to Ascona, just a few minutes up the road. Immediately after we parked, we saw it – the exact spot where my grandfather snapped his photo over sixty years prior! I learned something about my Poppy that day. Even though he was an exceptional photographer, his attention to detail may not have been the best. We imagined him, hunched over his photography equipment and notepad, enjoying a leisurely lunch and wonderful vino. I pictured him scribbling a few notes about the Lake and then asking a waiter the name of the town, not bothering to care (or realize) that he was lunching in Ronco, a town close – but yet so far from Ascona.
This was the area of the shot – the houses were different colors, but they were all still there
We were thrilled to have found it, Poppy’s published error notwithstanding. We were also amazed at the beauty of Ascona, a charming town with roughly 5,500 inhabitants. We walked along the water’s bank, our eyes always gazing upward toward the mountains and homes that appeared in Poppy’s image. I was particularly pleased, but not altogether surprised to see that all the same homes were still intact (although a few additional homes and condo’s had sprung up over the years). My father and I plotted and planned and finally agreed on the frame of the image. I must have taken over 100 images before we were done. Really getting into the spirit, I made my mom and dad pose with me like the dockworkers did so many years ago. We walked further down the shore and then realized we had picked the wrong spot. I suppose my grandpa isn’t the only one entitled to a mistake.
I’m trying to line up the image
My father and I review my work to check for accuracy
I posed us all as the dockworkers and tourists in the photo
Three generations pose where the prior generation had been over sixty years prior
Julia was all hugs
After we discovered we had been shooting in the wrong spot, we re-set and shot again. This time, we were confident that we captured the exact same image. There was even a boat on the ramp, like in the original photo.
Re-framing the shot
We both agreed on the new spot
Posing as dock works again
The final product – this was the shot I chose to resemble the original
And the original again so you can compare how we did
We spent a little time walking around the town and then headed back to the car, pleased with a job well done.
Julia insisted on getting her feet wet
Playing with daddy
Campanile (bell tower) of Ascona
Restaurants line the pedestrian street along the lake
An old Castello (castle) turned into a modern day Inn
Flags of various European countries lay still on a windless day
An old church on the hillside
Boats in the harbor
I couldn’t believe that I stood within feet (perhaps even the exact same spot) that my grandfather did sixty three years prior. My grandfather passed away nearly thirty years ago – when I was five years old. I felt more connected to him at that very moment that I ever had before. I know it was a special day for me and I’m sure it was even more special for my own dad. I will always be grateful to my wife for suggesting that we embark on this journey together.
Channeling my inner Poppy in order to take good pictures
Jen and I recently went to Scotland with her family (HERE) and had a fabulous time exploring the Scottish Highlands. We saw Aberdeen and quite a bit of the Scottish countryside. Next on the agenda was a trip to the country’s capital, Edinburgh. The original plan was to make it a day-trip, but we felt that there was too much to see and do in just one day (not to mention a two hour drive each way), so we planned an overnight stay.
Country road in Ballater
These dry stone walls have been used as field boundaries for well over a thousand years in Scotland
We set out early in the morning from our cottage in the charming town of Ballater, and headed south (still on the wrong side of the road) toward Edinburgh. I was simply amazed to see how the landscape could change so quickly from one part of the country to the another (the colors went from a lush, fertile green to a more rustic, almost coarse landscape – beautiful in it’s own right).
A hilltop basking in the sun, near Ballater – in the Scottish Highlands
A sheep sits down for a rest
Booming commercial center near Ballater
There was a long and desolate stretch of road as the hills flattened and changed their colors
We paused at a scenic overlook to drink up the new landscape
Jen and her sister, Jessica are naturals in front of the camera
Since we opted for an overnight to Edinburgh, we weren’t as rushed to get there, freeing up time to see another glorious castle. Based on local feedback, countless websites and geographic convenience along our route, we chose to visit, Glamis Castle– often dubbed, “Scotland’s most beautiful castle”. The current home of the Earl and Countess of Strathmore and Kinghorne (yes, they really do live there; we could still smell the pleasant aroma of red cedar in the fireplace from the night before) began in the 11th century with much more humble beginnings. Set far in the woods within the town of Glamis, the current castle was once merely a hunting lodge nearly a thousand years ago. But changes in Royal titles, transfer of property, the ego of a few as well as some sordid stories of murders and love affairs transformed a simple hunting lodge into the massive castle it is today. There are legends of a ghost playing cards with the devil until dawn and myths of a monster strolling through the long corridors at night. The castle plays a prominent role in Shakespeare’s MacBeth when Duncan is murdered by MacBeth in Glamis Castle. And what proper castle would be without it’s Royal ties? Glamis Castle has boasted a direct link to the Royal Family in many ways, since 1372 (most recently, the childhood home of the Queen Mother).
Glamis Castle
Welcome to Glamis Castle
Julia went right up to knock on the front door
“Well, if no one is home… I’ll just use this as a back scratcher”
The lion’s are a symbol of the castle and appear in some form in every single room (except the chapel)
Interior photographs were strictly prohibited. Obviously, I couldn’t resist.
Billiards room
Someone’s bedroom – I was hanging back too far to listen so that I could get this shot. In retrospect, I see how dumb that was. I’ll just call it… the “guest bedroom”.
My favorite room – the trophy room where Earl Beardie plays cards with the devil each night (behind the wall to the left)
After the tour (I’ll have you know, I only got scolded for using my camera about four times), we were free to walk about the museums and gardens. First, we viewed a toy soldier exhibit and read more about the Royal history with the castle. Then we strolled around the castle, along the nature trail and into the Italian gardens.
Impressive toy soldier exhibit
Private gardens adjacent to the castle
More lions
Castle from the side – the lion protects this side
Jen’s parents, Dominic and Diane snuggling up
And smooching a bit
Julia felt right at home in the Italian gardens
One of the garden’s intricate gazebos
A beautiful hedge wall enclosed the magnificent gardens
A path covered by a canopy of trees interweaving their branches
View from the garden looking back toward the castle
A similar view with Julia (who would barely stand still long enough to take one quick shot)
A second gazebo framing the garden
A guardhouse stands alone from the castle
View from the road as we departed such a magical place
After we left the castle, we pushed the rest of the way toward Edinburgh, pausing only long enough to capture a few wonderful scenic photos. We arrived late in the afternoon and strolled around town. We stopped for souvenirs and found a perfect kilt for Julia. Jen’s father, Dominic suggested that it had been too long since our last whisky and so he purchased a few miniatures for us to enjoy as we took in the sights. I didn’t hesitate to jump on board – that’s why he’s the best father in law around!
We would pass fields that glowed almost a bright, neon yellow
This guy was sitting on the job
I regretted this photo-op. I think the booth was more commonly used as a toilet than a phone
Gothic tower surrounds the statue of Sir Walter Scott, completed in 1846
Bank of Scotland, Head Offices
Allan Ramsay statue stands in front of Edinburgh Castle
Who can resist images created from flowers?!
Edinburgh Castle overlooks the older and newer parts of the city
Part of the castle
Every city has pricey real estate – you’re looking at some of Edinburgh’s most expensive private residences
And again from a slightly different angle – the old city frames the backdrop
This looks like a good place for a “selfie” LOL, #lovescotland
And this looks like a good place for a serious sip of whisky
Jess took a little sip of her own
The Anderson Clan
After walking for a couple hours, we bent the tour towards the George Street – a pedestrian friendly street full of pubs and restaurants. We found one with tasty looking food, a good atmosphere and appeared to be baby-friendly. We picked correctly and had a wonderful meal. However, the best part was when we ordered the haggis. Julia simply could not get enough. She would scream for the waiter to leave her plate each time he tried to clear it, until she got every last morsel (for those that don’t know what haggis is… just google it).
Haggis and potatoes for the table to share and try (even Diane tried it… and liked it)!
Julia nearly finished the entire plate herself
The next day, we encountered a typical Scottish drizzle (perhaps a bit heavier than a drizzle). With only indoor options appealing to us, but still a lot of city to cover – we found ourselves at a crossroads. We discovered the perfect solution aboard one of the city’s “hop on-hop off” tour buses. We were covered and warm, but still got to see all the highlights of the city, explained to us by a charming tour guide (through a thick Scottish accent).
Scotland is a city divided essentially in two. There is the Old Town, composed of wonderfully narrow and intricately wound streets that exude more charm than you could imagine. The west side of the Old Town is dominated by the large and imposing Edinburgh Castle. Over time, as the city became more and more populated, Edinburgh became one of the world’s first cities to develop “high rises” with 11 and 12 story buildings built as early as the 16th century. At one point in the 18th century, the city decided to assess property taxes based on number of windows in a building, so many building owners bricked over most of their tenant’s windows. You can still see these tax-evading buildings as you drive through the city. As population reached an all-time high in the Old Town, trash became a problem. During the night, people would dump their trash and toilet refuse from their windows onto the streets below. It became well known which streets to avoid after a night drinking in the pubs, lest you wanted a shower of the worst kind.
When the population reached an unmanageable amount, city planners developed the New Town on the northern end of the city. A young, relatively unknown 27 year old, James Craig became the lucky architect for the new city. He did a wonderful job establishing a well-laid city that stood in stark contrast of the chaotic city just south. Edinburgh became divided by Princes Street. Take note, that it is Princes (one “s”) and not Princess Street as many people mistake. The King had two sons and named this important street after his two male heirs (plural for prince). When the New Town became developed in the 18th century, the city planners hoped and envisioned that the cities elite would immediately move to newer section. But no one did – no one wanted to move to what was essentially “the boonies”. So the city built some of the most elaborate and beautiful homes and actually paid the cities upper crust to move into the New Town.*
Below are some shots I snapped on our tour as the bus rolled at a rapid pace through this fascinating city.
*The interesting little tidbits I sprinkled in above, were all given to me from the tour director.
Royal Scottish Academy, featuring a magnificent collection of works by Scottish artists
A street scene in the old city
A closer view as we drove beneath part of Edinburgh Castle
After experiencing a wonderful tour and benefiting from a clearing sky, we elected to exercise the “hop-off” feature of our tour and headed around a bit by foot. We did a little shopping, a little walking and a little eating. Diane got a plaque with her Clan’s tartan for her new home in Maryland.
Julia plays with her nonno
Striking church door
Julia turned out to be a pretty decent make-shift hat during a drizzle
Edinburgh is a port town – you can se the water along the horizon
We wrapped up an amazing couple days in Edinburgh and set our courses back to Ballater. We travelled along a new route and got to experience even more of this wonderful country. A few of my favorite images from the drive are below.
This was absolutely stunning in person
Why did the sheep cross the road? So I could stop in wonderment that this was actually happening
He let me get about 10 feet away before he started telling me to back off
Our wonderful trip to Scotland had come to an end. So too had Jen’s family’s visit with us in Italy – sadly, we bid them arrivederci, cheerio, adeus and a good trip home.
No, I didn’t wear one myself, but only because we were already half-way through our trip before I came across a store that sold them. Real men also eat haggis (sheep’s heart, liver and lungs encased in it’s own stomach) – I did do that! Of course, so did my two-year old daughter… and she probably had more than all of us combined.
A scenic shot of the River Dee in the Scottish Highlands
Since living abroad, we’ve been able to get in touch with most of Jen’s roots. Her father is Italian (hence us living in Italy) and we’ve gone to many of the places where he has or had family. Since he grew up in Africa, we still have that left to do. Jen’s mother grew up in Ohio, and having crossed that off the list multiple times – it was time to go a bit further. Diane’s lineage is a mixture of Irish (we went to Dublin in March, HERE) and Scottish. Now, it was finally time to go to Scotland! And since Jen’s parents and sister were here visiting us, we would all embark on this adventure together.
Jen’s mom had reserved a private cottage exactly where I wanted to be… in the Scottish Highlands. There were a variety of reasons I was excited about this particular area of Scotland. The beauty of the countryside is well renowned. The area is an important part of the country’s and the world’s history. But I think there were two reasons more intriguing than all of that.
1) Many of the scenes from my all-time favorite movie, Braveheart were shot and took place in the Scottish Highlands.
2) Most of the world’s fine scotch is made in the Highlands.
I needed no better reason than those above to break out the scotch and watch Braveheart (for the umpteenth time) with Jen’s parents before we boarded our plane to Scotland. Jen’s eyes rolled as I screamed “FREEEEEDOM” along with Mel Gibson for the 1,000th time since we’ve been together.
After a short flight from Milan, we landed in Aberdeen, Scotland famished. We had one important task to tackle before we would allow ourselves to eat lunch… re-training our brains to drive on the wrong side of the road (that’s right to all you Brits, Aussies, Scots, etc. reading this blog… the wrong side). Jen’s father, Dominic and I each rented our own car and narrowly missed colliding into each other as we took a few practice laps around the parking lot. Five minutes later and confidence at 100% – our plan was fairly simple; we would spend the day touring Aberdeen before driving north to our cottage in Ballater, a charming town in the Royal Deeside. By the time we had parked our cars for lunch, it became apparent that none of us had packed properly for the Scottish weather. We ducked into a TKMaxx (I suppose it’s the Scottish cousin of TJMaxx) and bought jackets and warmer wears. I suppose it pays to read a few more blogs before traveling and arrive prepared.
Once we were warm and cozy, we walked around Aberdeen for a bit. We found a charming pub that fit the bill of exactly what we wanted. I scarcely glanced at the menu before ordering what I knew I would be the staple of my diet all week – fish n’ chips.
Old Blackfriars – the sign didn’t lie, it was Good Food indeed
My fish and chips, served with peas (although not mushy peas as tradition dictates, still delicious)
The “Belhaven Best Steak Pie” that Diane ordered
Julia found time to fit in a few slots
After lunch, we walked around Aberdeen a bit more and discovered truth to the nickname, the Grey City. Our group was weary and ready to shed our luggage. Additionally, we still had a two hour drive to Ballater, so our Aberdeen tour was cut a bit short. Headed due north and still on the wrong side of the road, we undertook one of my top 10 all-time favorite drives. The Scottish countryside was every bit as majestic as I would have imagined. We found Ballater, we found our cottage and then we found a great place for dinner later that evening. Unfortunately for Jen’s sister, Jessica – she had yet to find a wifi signal. Something those crazy, young kids need these days.
We wasted no time on our first full day in Scotland. The country is full of castles and Diane, knowing how much Jen and I love castles, was eager to share in the exploration of the country’s historic beauties. She had spent many fruitful hours researching a few castles to visit. Our first choice was somewhat local to our location, Balmoral Castle. This particular castle was an excellent choice, because of it’s direct and current ties to the Royal Family. It is the Queen’s personal residence each fall and has been used consistently by Royals since 1852. The castle is closed to public tours from August through October each year while the Queen takes up residence.
For posterity’s sake (and because I chuckle each time I think about it) I would be remiss not to mention a funny anecdote. When we purchased our tour tickets, I mentioned that my mother-in-law was of the Anderson Clan. The little old lady working in the shop proclaimed that “she knew many Anderson’s in her day and they were a bit like the Drummond’s… but nothing like the Cameron’s…” and on and on until she arrived at, “but watch out for those Macfie’s, they’re sheep stealing bastards, they are!” with more conviction than I would have expected from such a sweet little lady on such an otherwise innocent exchange. Sheep… stealing… bastards. That absolutely made my trip!
Balmoral Castle gates
The gatehouse and museum
Full view of the gatehouse
Julia prepares to go in the castle
But not without her audio guide
“I’m ready guys, let’s go!”
Balmoral castle from the main courtyard
I loved the turrets of the castle
Another angle
Part of the Queens garden – her bedroom overlooks a rose garden and then this beautiful, sunken garden
Julia was delighted to be in the Queen’s garden
She found such wonderment in the fountain as well
After a delightful tour of the castle (admittedly, it was more a tour of the grounds than the interior since the castle is still very much in use) – Jen, Jessica, Julia and I went for a stroll along the River Dee.
We took a stroll along the river
As well as the adjacent pathway through the woods
Beautiful scenery
The girls in the woods
I was so happy to be in such majestic outdoors
Julia was so happy, she broke out dancing
Sissies forever!
“What a day!”
At the end of the day, we checked in with the properties Event Manager to listen to all the activities available to us. They had some wonderful choices including fly-fishing, nature walks, bike tours and horseback riding. But the one that immediately caught the attention of me and Dominic was the whisky class, happening in a mere 30 minutes! I think we both half-expected the ladies to bow out and head back to the room, but we were pleasantly surprised when all three (Diane, Jen and Jess) told us they wanted to join in on the fun and spirits too.
All the whisky we got to taste
Whisky is as much a part of Scotland as cold weather, kilts or bagpipes. But let’s pause for a minute, because you may have a question.
“Greg, you referred to it earlier as scotch and now you’re calling it whisky. How come? Isn’t whisky different? And while we’re at it – how does bourbon play into all this… isn’t that in there somewhere? And is that stuff, rye invited to the party?”
If you already know the relationship between these spirits, please continue to the next section. If you’re curious – please read on. First, I called it scotch earlier to simplify things and use the commonly accepted American vernacular for this drink. Scotch, is in fact a whisky. So is bourbon. So is Tennessee whiskey and Irish whiskey (those would seem obvious) as well as the often forgotten rye. So, all these delicious brown drinks are considered whisky.
Dominic drinks with his new English pal
So what differentiates all these types of whisky’s and what’s with all the different names (but speed it up, would ya)?
Can’t promise to speed it up, but let’s continue. The differentiators are [mainly] their geography, the ingredients/process used and their spelling (notice the “e” comes and goes). Let’s start with geography. Whisky made in Scotland is, Scotch Whisky (even though we call it “scotch” they just call it “whisky” and laugh at anyone that calls it scotch. It would be like ordering an “American” when you really meant to order a “Budweiser”). If it’s made in Ireland, it will be an Irish Whiskey (think, Jameson). If it is made in that young country we call America, it will either be a Bourbon, Tennessee Whiskey or Rye. Bourbon is made (to my knowledge) exclusively in Kentucky while Tennessee Whiskey (think, Jack Daniel’s) is made exclusively in Tennessee. A few years ago I sought to unravel this web and found a blog that rumored the only difference between Tennessee whiskey and Bourbon was that the Tennessee folks didn’t want to claim the same name of anything made in Kentucky, and so Tennessee Whiskey was born (as I’m doing a little boning up for this piece, I’m learning that there is more to it). In any event, it turned out to be a wonderful marketing angle for Jack Daniel’s. Oh yeah, and then there’s Rye. It’s made in America and Canada, but as far as I’m concerned – it’s really only prevalent in Canada (think, Crown Royal). Rye is nice and all, but a bit forgettable at times (just like our nice neighbors from the north).
As far as the ingredients, they use malted barely on the more formal side of the pond, while us swashbuckling American’s distill from corn (heck, why not – we have a lot). Oh yeah, and that forgettable rye drink – you guessed it; it’s distilled from rye (although in Canada it doesn’t have to be… yeah, that makes a lot of sense, Canada!).
Our instructor, Gordon Muir pours some malted barley into my hand
OK, I’m afraid to ask… but I will anyway. Now that I know we’re discussing whisky from Scotland, what is the difference between a single malt and blended whisky? I really will fit this one into a nutshell (as I have a lot more typing left to do). A single malt is whisky that is all from the same distillery. The distillery will usually blend many different barrels to make their final product, but it will all be from the same distillery (think, Glenmorangie 18). A blended scotch whisky is the final product of whisky from two or more distilleries (think, Johnnie Walker – yes, all of them from Red to Blue). I didn’t know Johnnie Walker was a blend either (yeah, I’m talking to you), until my time in Scotland. If you want to read further on the subject, check out this guy’s blog – he does a far better job answering this particular question than me.
Me and my boy after a fun tasting
Since Scots call their drink simply by it’s proper name, whisky – henceforth so too shall I share in this fine tradition and proclaim, whisky whilst blogging about the great Scotland and forevermore (at least until I return home to the States – lest someone pour me a glass of Jim Beam, when I really meant Oban). Interesting fact that I learned while doing these whisky tastings (yes, a few more tastings were still to come). To add ice cubes to a nice glass of whisky is simply sacrilege and (I’m quoting my instructor here) “reserved for the Americans and those bourbons they call…pause for a chuckle… whiskey”. He went on to explain that the only good thing an American whiskey was good for is to mix with some of Scotland’s more inferior whisky’s to “liven them up a bit“. I spoke with a Scottish accent the rest of the class and hid the bald eagle that had previously been perched on my arm.
OK – whisky lesson over. WAKE back up!
Dominic walks Julia back home after the tasting
For those that endured a quick history on whisky and hoped for a more exciting adventure along the trip, I’m sorry but I may have to disappoint you. For those that skipped ahead as I offered you could do many paragraphs ago, I have accidentally mislead you. When I said to simply “skip down” I hadn’t yet consulted my photos, which chronologically catalogue our trip. So, you may be dismayed to learn that the whisky tasting only whet our whistles for a whiskey tour in an actual distillery. So you get… more whiskey photos! But before we did that, we went to go see the Falls of Feugh, explored some of the magical countryside and visited an intriguing suspension bridge.
The Falls of Feugh (pronounced almost like the naughty F word)
The Scottish-Irish crew
Scottish countryside – absolutely breathtaking
There were sheep everywhere
Dominic and I pause for a photo along the path to the suspension bridge
Father-daugher photo
My “artsy” shot with my muse
I felt like we were taking engagement photos
View from the bridge
The view from the other direction
Queen Elizabeth opened the bridge in 1988
A Scottish thistle (emblem of the Scottish nation) not quite in bloom
Digitalis Purpurea or Foxglove Flower
After all this time with nature, it was off to visit the Royal Lochnagar Distillery and see firsthand the process of how whisky is made. This particular distillery produces a relatively small amount of single-malt whisky each year. The distillery received it’s Royal Warrant in 1848 when the owner, John Begg invited Prince Albert to stop by for a drink. He offered him a sheep ride back to the neighboring Balmoral castle, since it wasn’t that far away (OK, I made that last part up).
The sign out front
They had Highland Cattle out front
The breed was developed in the Scottish Highlands and Western Isles
I couldn’t get enough of these guys
Apparently, neither could he
Fields in front of the distillery
I’ve never seen a more welcoming front door
Jessica stops to welcome us
A display of some of their finer whisky’s
If you want to buy a good whisky – just consult this group above, you can’t go wrong with any of them
I snuck all the following interior shots. We were not allowed to take photos inside the premises… but they didn’t realize I had a BLOG to write!!
On the left – peat (a wood burned to add smokey flavor), barley both natural and malted and an old scale
On the right – an old fashioned kiln that would be fed with peat
Copper pot still used during the distillation process
Barrels used during the aging process
The distillery always sets aside some of the best for a special whisky released in limited quantities
Our guide demonstrates how to property seal a barrel
Look at the mugs on these two – guess no one taught either of us how to smile
Water is a critical element in the process – this is the reserve that Royal Lochnagar uses
Another thing I learned – this is the “official” design of a proper whisky glass adopted somewhat recently
The next adventure within our Scotland trip was a pilgrimage to the capital, Edinburgh. Since I boiled 1,094 pictures from this trip into a mere 120 for this post – I think I’ll pause here and resume with a new post. Tune in again soon – plenty more fun to come!
Since I’ll never be a movie producer, I finally have another outlet to satisfy my life-long dream to wrap something up with the simple phrase…
I think this is a fitting title to end our trip in France, which you can read about HERE, HERE and HERE.
Our little family recently journeyed into France for a visit with some wonderful friends, Michel and Shirley (read his blog HERE). We spent a few days with them in their home in Sablet, France. They were wonderful tour guides, packing in many activities that they knew we would enjoy. After a day spent touring some of the most beautiful villages in France, we had a serious thirst to quench. So the next day, we took advantage of our prime location in the Côté du Rhône region of France (arguably one of the most well-known wine producing regions in the world) and drank our way throughout the area.
Cool street art just outside of Sablet
Michel owns a charming bistro in Northern California (Bistro des Copains) that has not only increased his knowledge of Californian and French wines, but also given him a unique “in” to the local wine producers surrounding his village. It’s one thing to call and set up a tasting, and another thing entirely to call and set up a tasting because “I might decide to purchase your wine for my restaurant”. Ladies and gentlemen, feel free to unroll your red carpets now!
Michel did a wonderful job selecting three wineries to visit, ranging in size of production, type of wine produced and varying ambiance for our tastings. We started the tour at, Domaine Catherine Le Goeuil in Cairanne, a short ride from Michel and Shirley’s home. Catherine had set up a tasting for us in the production facility next to her home. Since I could not possibly tell Catherine’s story better than she could, I have copied her brief biography about the wine she produces from Kermit Lynch’s wine merchant website.
Catherine Le Goeuil’s taste for adventure has made her a leading pioneer in Cairanne. Having been born in the Congo to French parents, she had already lived in interesting places, but she longed to return to her roots. In 1993, with little experience and great determination, she and her family bought a six-hectare domaine. Soon after implementing one of their first chemical treatments on the vines, Catherine became very ill. The viticultural direction for the domaine became instantly clear. In her mind, farming as naturally as possible was the only way to go. Over time, she started the conversion to organic farming, and is now fully certified in this methodology. In a village just shy of one thousand inhabitants and only two others who farm organically nearby, her decisions have been met with suspicion and trepidation. Though rooted to the place both figuratively and literally, she is still considered an outsider—not that she lets this dilute her conviction in any way.
Domaine Catherine Le Goeuil
Ouvert (Open)
Part of the modest estate
Inside the bottling facility
French wine bottles
Bottling process in action
Loved the symmetry of the packaging
Julia always has to look her coolest
Jen and Shirley were kind enough to be our “scribes” so Michel and I had the necessary information for the our blogs
Aftermath of our tasting
Julia ran wild in the vineyards
Next, we ventured to Domaine la Soumade, a winery founded in 1979 by André Roméro (website). We slowly worked our way through a flight of Rasteau before selecting which bottles to purchase (or in Michel’s case, which cases to purchase).
Casks
“Step right up… what’ll it be? May I recommend a grenache?”
Reading to Shirley
Michel speaking to our host about his wines
Julia plays with the sunflowers
Vineyards out back
Interesting to see the French flag as opposed to the Italian flag
After lunch, we pointed the car toward the much anticipated village of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. If you’re no more than a casual drinker of French wine (like me), than you may be questioning that statement. “I thought Châteauneuf-du-Pape was a grape, or a style of wine, or (what I thought) a region?” Certainly, a wine as noted around the world as Châteauneuf-du-Pape couldn’t simply take the name of a small village with fewer than 1,000 inhabitants…could it?
Driving into Châteauneuf-du-Pape
The Popes castle sits high above the village
Street in Châteauneuf-du-Pape
The central concept to higher end French wine is the notion of terroir, the location where the grapes are grown and wine is made. The Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) classification system uses this concept of terroir when classifying French wine. It is this rigorous classification issued by the government agency that ultimately determines (in part) how your wine bottle reads. The history of the AOC dates all the way back to 1411, when Roquefort (yes, the cheese) was first regulated. It wasn’t until 1935 that the Institut National des Appellations d’Origine (INAO) was created exclusively to manage the process for wines.
I learned that as you drink wines across France- the labeling practices are different and take on their own set of rules depending on which region the wine was made in and what level of classification the wine carries. The minimum information a label will carry is usually the classification and the name of the producer. Michel explained to us that in the Côté du Rhône region the ranking of a wine’s quality is fairly easy to determine, starting with Côté du Rhône (the generic label), thenCôté du Rhône-Villages (which includes 95 communes), next moving on to Côté du Rhône-Villages (named village) (where the village has earned the right to include its name on the label) and finally the highest class-action, Crus (the most demanding level of distinction, upon which the village will use only its name on the label, without needing to include Côté du Rhône). There are only 16 communes that have achieved this high level of distinction. The wines of Châteauneuf-du-Pape have been awarded this high level of crus status and therefore, only use the name of the village on the label.
After drinking the spectacular wines of Clos du Mont-Olivet, we toured the proprietors private cellar. It was jaw-dropping indeed to see bottles of wine that were worthy of serving royalty, reaching values too astronomical for me to fathom. It also made my draw drop to see Julia running wild in said-cellar and I had to put my camera down to chase her on more than one occasion. I don’t think stomping grapes the rest of my life to repay the debt of a single broken bottle would have been a wise notion. The estate is managed by David, the third generation in a line of winemakers of the Séraphin family. A kind and gentle man, he was happy to take time to explain his wine, show off his cellar, extol a few interesting anecdotes and allow us to take tons of pictures. David told us that the current spring (when the grapes begin to grow) was the coldest on record since 1887 and that winemakers all over the region were nervous of the outcome. If the outcome was anything like the wines we drank all day – they’ll be just fine!
A sign hangs outside Clos du Mont-Olivet
Outside Clos du Mont-Olivet
Julia kept herself pre-occupied by drawing…
And tasting French water along with us…
And finally, re-organizing corks
David welcomes us into his family’s cellar
There were thousands of wines inside
Some wines dated back fifty years
They had one of their original floor corking machines
Julia wanted to go “this way” toward the really expensive wines
Another shot of the cellar
Leading back into the production area
Packaging and storage area
Bottles prepare to ship
David prepares an invoice for our purchases
When we left Clos du Mont-Olivet we spent some time touring the village of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, which is as firmly intertwined with papal history as it is wine. In 1308, Pope Clement V relocated the papacy to the city of Avignon. My buddy Clement V and his subsequent “Avignon Popes” were rumored to be great lovers and promotors of wine during the seventy-year duration of the Avignon Papacy. John XXII (who came second) is responsible for erecting the famous castle that still stands today, known as the “Popes Castle”.
The Pope’s Castle through an ancient wall
Remains of the Pope’s Castle
View of the valley
In the village of Châteauneuf-du-Pape
The village was beautiful
Street scene
Looking back up toward the top of the castle
“Hi, everybody!”
“HI, MAMMA!”
“That’s so funny… I want to go up there!”
“Ciao, everyone…errr, I mean bonjour!”
Next, we drove to some of the vineyards, which we were surprised to learn were covered in rocks. Michel explained that these are naturally occurring and even when the farmers rake all the rocks, they simply re-surface again over time. Of course, everyone embraces the rocks and think its what gives Châteauneuf-du-Pape it’s unique terroir.
The rocks were amazing
Vineyards in Châteauneuf-du-Pape
One of the wineries planted roses at the end of each row of grapes
View in the middle of the vineyards
Another angle
Jen and I paid the price for stepping into the fields to snag a couple rocks as souvenirs
On our final day in France, we visited the Pont du Gard, an ancient Roman aqueduct bridge that crosses the Gardon River. The site is simply stunning to behold, and the UNESCO World Heritage Centre agreed, adding it to their list of World Heritage Sites in 1985 because of it’s historical importance.
Pont du Gard
The opposite side, higher viewpoint
Ancient villa on the Gardon River
We walked to the top of the aqueduct
We followed the route up to the panoramic viewpoint
The trek was worth it – there were stunning views
At the top
Amazing to see the bridge up close
Angle from below
This olive tree, along with it’s sister tree were relocated here and have thrived since 908 AD
Sister tree
Stone placard commemorating and expelling the trees’ history
View from the opposite bank
One of the end caps
The ancient carvings were magnificent. I think this says, “this end up”
Trees covered the roads to offer shade to the soldiers in ancient times
Nice scenery shot
Finally, we ended our day in Vaison-la-Romaine, a village that showcases an interesting historic perspective. Not only is the historic section separated into two parts, it is divided in two distinct ways. On the high side of the dividing river, Ouvèze you have Medieval ruins including a castle. On the lower side, centered on the Colline de la Villasse, you have the largest filed of Roman ruins in France. It’s quite stunning to take it all in.
The upper city – the Medieval city
View of the Medieval castle
Some of the Roman ruins
Roman ruins – pillars surrounding a courtyard
Courtyard
They believed this portion was housing
Ancient Roman gate still intact
The ruins covered such an impressive and vast amount of land
Would have loved to known who’s pool this was… some ancient tycoon?
A final look back over the Roman ruins
I hope you enjoyed your tour through France with us (both historical and culinary) as much as we did. Stay tuned as we return back to Italy and stay busy while Jen’s family comes to stay a month.
