**
The tagline of our blog is “Stories about overlooked people and places.” More than a tagline–much more–Francisco and I spend most of our time living in what poet Stanley Kunitz called “the layers.” We believe that everyone has stories to share and that those stories have meaning, even when they lack the platform to tell those stories to anyone.

This year, I’ve had the opportunity to travel to extraordinary places and to have exceptional experiences. I’ve met with Michelin-starred chefs and interviewed a First Lady, and have been grateful for and have enjoyed those experiences. But I’ve never forgotten about all the people we tend to not see, the ones who keep the front-of-house shiny, the ones who keep the big names going.

“Nobody talks to the maid” is like a lot of my projects– it started with a concept but without an end point or a particular outlet or even purpose. This fall, I started taking iPhone photos of the people we tend to overlook in our travels, the people who really make our experiences of the exceptional possible. I haven’t interviewed them or asked their names or their position; my photos have been surreptitious, a product of my own discomfort about approaching them and crossing the invisible barrier that separates us. That’s the next step of this work in progress- confronting my anxiety and engaging the “subjects” of my photos to become co-creators of something… though what, yet, I’m not exactly sure. A portrait project, perhaps?

The title, “Nobody talks to the maid,” is borrowed from a friend who is a writer. At one point in her writing career, she supported herself by working as a hotel maid. It was a job, she says, where she felt nearly invisible, either unnoticed and unacknowledged or objectified.

A hotel worker in Zurich

A hotel worker in Zurich

Cleaning employees at the Mexico City airport

An employee at a hotel in Washington, D.C.

One of Amsterdam's many bikes

I’ve actually been to Amsterdam and Zurich before.

Zurich when I was 16 or so, after winning a travel scholarship. Amsterdam when I was in college, after spotting a major fare sale and talking my roommate, Drew, into a long weekend in Europe.

After receiving an invitation from the Netherlands Board of Tourism and Conventions to return to these two cities for a visit, I started thinking about those earlier trips: What did I remember of them?

The answer: Very little.

Those were the days before multifunction mobile devices were pervasive, so the iPhone can’t be blamed. I wasn’t distracted from seeing the war monument in Dam Square because I was busy checking in on foursquare. (And no, if you’re wondering, I wasn’t smoking my way through Amsterdam’s cafes, or drinking for that matter, so substance use can’t be blamed, either).

Drew and I communicate mainly via twitter these days, so I asked him: What do you remember about our trip to Amsterdam?

He answered:

Ok, so maybe we did drink a little.*

But seriously, why do I remember almost nothing about either of these cities, either of those trips? What I do remember seems strange because the memories are fragments of tiny, seemingly insignificant details: the way the leaves pooled on the edges of Amsterdam’s canals, creating watery canvases of fiery reds and oranges; the steps leading up to the hostel where we stayed; the airplane logo of Schipol Airport. And here in Zurich today, nothing seems familiar. I can’t dredge up a single memory- just the recollection of a train ride through the Alps to get here. Or did I dream that?

The inability to pull up recollections has unsettled me this week, as I look for something–anything, really–to spark a memory that will confirm I was here before. What other details and experiences have I forgotten, not just from those trips, but from the many trips in the decade and a half since? The failure to remember isn’t due to a lack of attention. I’m so observant, ready for the moment of ordinary reverence, that it’s exhausting.

This is the way I remember my travels, I think- not in big, momentous flashes, but in tiny moments, in details that aren’t really important to anyone else, in things barely seen by long warehoused in my mind, and in things deeply looked at but forgotten years later, until a friend helps bring some of it back.

I’d love to know how you store your travel memories- both abstractly in your own mind, and tangibly, too. Share yours in the comments, if you please.

–
*but only a little. Drew can confirm that I was a reluctant drinker. The first and only time I got wasted was also my last. If you want that story, you’ll have to friend him on twitter and he can serialize it in 140 characters.

The popular "I amsterdam" installation in Museumplein.

Amsterdam is dense with museums, which is hardly surprising, given that the Dutch lay claim to some serious art world heavyweights, both classical (Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Van Gogh, to name a few) and contemporary (Scarlett Hooft Graafland, for one). Beyond art, the city’s long, complicated history lends itself to endless interpretation and reinterpretation.

The Amsterdam Tourism and Convention Board indicates there are more than 50 museums in the city; I guess I didn’t do too badly, as I managed to get to six of them.

Here’s a quick guide to three art museums and three history museums, all easily accessible by public transport, by bike, or by foot, and all “doable” during a short visit to Amsterdam.

ART MUSEUMS

Rijksmuseum

Rijksmuseum:
Vermeer, Rembrandt, and the other Dutch masters are the main attraction for most visitors, though many of the museum’s most famous holdings are not currently on display; the museum is undergoing a massive renovation that will last through 2012.

Personally, I thought “The Night Watch” was a bit anti-climactic, especially after seeing exquisite, lesser-known pieces like Christoph Ritter’s silver and gold-plated globes from the 17th century, a recent acquisition, and a series of 17th century works about Brazil by Frans Post.

Address: Jan Luijkenstraat 1
Website: Rijksmuseum
Inside Tip: Now through December 31, the museum is hosting a competition that will result in awarding an interesting prize: dinner in front of Rembrandt’s famed “The Night Watch.” You can submit your entry here.

Van Gogh Museum

Van Gogh Museum:
The Van Gogh Museum is a spacious modern building with three floors of art works spanning all stages of the artist’s relatively short career. What was surprising to me was how much of the collection consisted of other artists’ works; the museum places special emphasis on painters who influenced Van Gogh, as well as his contemporaries, Gauguin in particular.

I especially enjoyed a temporary exhibit about the analysis and restoration of Van Gogh’s “The Bedroom,” (on through January 15, 2012), which raises compelling questions about the role of conservation and restoration in maintaining important art work for future generations. It also underscored how much we can still learn about artists we think we know so well.

I also loved seeing the work, “Basket of Pansies,” which is not loaned out by the museum because of its fragility.

Address: Paulus Potterstraat 7
Website: Van Gogh Museum
Inside Tip: Visit this museum after the Rijksmuseum, as they’re located near one another. On Fridays, the Van Gogh Museum has later hours than most museums (it’s open until 10 PM) and it has special programming, including DJ or live music presentations and guided tours.

Also, this is the only museum I visited where I could access free WiFi.

Huis Marseille Museum voor Fotografie:

This museum is located in a canal-side house in the city center. With four floors for exhibits, a library, a serve-yourself coffee spot, and a quiet garden, this was a welcome respite from the crush of crowds at Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh.

I think I would have enjoyed the current exhibit- large format photographs by Dutch artist Scarlett Hooft Graafland- without the accompanying curatorial observations, which seemed insistent upon shaping the visitor’s interpretations of the photographer’s work.

Still, I found Graafland’s photos, which were shot in Bolivia, China, Canada, and Iceland and are modified landscapes, strangely compelling.

Address: Keizersgracht 401
Website: Huis Marseille
Inside Tip: If you have a bag or camera you can’t carry it with you through the exhibit, and you’ll need a euro coin to place your items in a locker. Also, if it has reopened during your visit, you may want to walk a couple blocks further and visit FOAM, another photography museum. It was closed for an installation during my time in Amsterdam.

HISTORY MUSEUMS

Anne Frank Museum:
It feels almost blasphemous to say so, but I found this museum underwhelming. The opportunity to learn from history and understand the effects of intolerance is largely lost here, as the majority of the museum is empty. Museum materials explain that Anne Frank’s father, Otto, was eager for the museum to be built, but strongly preferred that the house where he and his family hid remained as it was after the family was betrayed and the SS removed them as well as their personal effects.

Understandably, the museum is a popular tourist attraction and there is always a line to get in. Museum administrators might consider a limit on the number of people allowed in at any given time; reading and learning from the limited material that was presented was difficult, as there were so many visitors jostling for space.

Address: Prinsengracht 267
Website: Anne Frank Museum
Inside Tip: If you’re short on time, skip this museum entirely.

Jewish Historical Museum

The exhibits are engaging and well-organized, with text about objects and installations presented in Dutch and English.

The history of the space itself is also interesting; the museum is housed inside a complex of what were once four Ashkenazi synagogues. Across the street is the Portuguese Synagogue, which was one of only two synagogues that was left untouched by the Nazis during World War II.

Address: Nieuwe Amstelstraat 1
Website: Jewish Historical Museum
Inside Tip: Grab the free audio guide at the desk after getting your entrance ticket.

Museum Van Loon:
As an American, it’s nearly impossible to wrap my mind around the idea of a homestead that has been in the same family since the 1600s, but there you have it: that’s what the Museum Van Loon is. “Oh, Mrs. Van Loon is here almost every day,” a staff member told me when I asked about the current generation of the family whose forebears established the Dutch East India Company way back in the day, before America was even a flash in a pilgrim’s eye.

This is one of those museums that’s not for everybody. If you’re not interested in displays of fine china, family portraits, or over-the-top boudoirs, then you should find yourself another museum. But if you’re into this kind of thing, you’ll find it interesting enough. The recently opened coach house (as in opened the day before I visited) underscores how high on the hog the Van Loons lived, displaying carriages and coachmen’s uniforms for nearly every occasion imaginable.

Address: Keizersgracht 672
Website: Museum Van Loon
Inside Tip: Visit this museum after (or before) the Huis Marseille, which is on the same street.

QUICK TIP: You’ll save time and money by purchasing an “I amsterdam” City Pass, which is an all-in-one transport and cultural attractions pass.

You can buy the card before you arrive in Amsterdam or once you’re in the city. A list of places where you can buy the card, as well as plans and rates (there are 24, 48, and 72 hour cards), can be found here.

Have a favorite Amsterdam museum? Tell us about it in the comments.

There’s the poor house for single women in need, centuries old, a model of social welfare. There’s the district that was home to a large Jewish population before Hitler and his Holocaust insisted its way into the Netherlands. And there’s Willem’s own story; he’s married to a Brazilian woman, his daughter is married to an Egyptian man, and his grandchildren are, in his words, “the best example of what a multicultural society like the Netherlands can produce.”

“We’re not more tolerant because we’re morally superior,” he concludes. “We’re just more clever.”

Despite my peripheral knowledge of anomalies suggesting that tolerance isn’t entirely the rule here (the murder of Theo van Gogh and the recent rise of a far right, anti-immigrant political party being two notable exceptions), I am inclined to believe him.

One of Amsterdam's many sex shops.

Willem explains that the Dutch have always been clever when it comes to issues that seem to stymie other governments. The Dutch, he says, recognize that: (1) when a government legalizes what’s typically illicit or in great demand, it actually has more control over said activity, and (2) it can often make a tidy little sum of money by regulating that activity.

Understanding this strategy helps explain lots about Amsterdam, and not just prostitution and pot smoking.* Why are so many canal-side houses so narrow? Because homes with a view of the canal have long been so popular that the government realized it could charge taxes based on the size of the house. Why has immigration rarely been the flashpoint issue it is in many other countries? Because the Dutch recognize immigrants do the jobs they don’t want anymore, jobs that someone has to do.

Pragmatism and profit over attachment to ideology- that’s what I take away as I walk through Amsterdam for the first time in 15 years. I’m eager to learn more, though. Impressions after a three and a half hour walk with just one person interpreting history may help begin decoding the complex history of place, but can never fully explain it.

*both of which, by the way, are currently being scrutinized anew by Dutch government. Even tighter controls are being advocated for pot smoking, as Dutch marijuana is, according to Willem, at least 10 times stronger than “regular pot” and, as such, the current government thinks it should be classified as a “hard” drug. The anticipation of a crackdown on coffee shops where pot is sold has led the shops to begin a brisk trade in mushrooms, which are not yet in the hard category.

**

“You’re alone?”

I’d seen him when I scoped out available seats in the gradas, way up in the nosebleed section, and I’d watched him watch me throughout the first bull fight. The way he asked wasn’t sinister or sexual, just slightly incredulous. Since it was obvious that no male companion was coming to join me (and, admittedly, since I sometimes enjoy being perceived as a bad-ass solo traveler who happens to be female), I looked him in the eyes and said, “Si, estoy sola.” He smiled and asked me if I wanted a beer.

“No, gracias,” I said, and showed him the thick gold band on my left ring finger. He laughed and threw his hands up in a “Well, it was worth a try” gesture.

Then, I turned back to the ring, ready for the next fight.
*
“What about your husband? Is he here, too?”

It’s late and I don’t know the city well enough to get myself out of a sketchy situation. I don’t like the way he’s asked the question, all falsely suave and casual. And most importantly, I’ve violated my own timeworn rule about choosing a taxi driver–never a young guy with spiky hair. Always an old guy with rosaries and scapulars looped over his rearview.

“Yeah, he’s at the hotel,” I lie. “He’s waiting for me right now.”

We’re pulling up to the plaza where my hotel is. “Do you want me to go around the block and drop you off right at the hotel door?”

No, I don’t want that at all. As I pay the fare and open the door, I feel lucky. I don’t even care that he didn’t use the meter and overcharged me.
**
Somehow, this conversation has taken a bizarre turn.

“You know, you need to go home and warm up your husband,” the taxi driver taking me to the airport says. He looks at me in the rearview mirror, which falls off right after he winks at me. “A man has needs,” he says. “What do you think he’s doing at home, anyway? If you’re not home to warm him up….” He sticks the mirror back on the windshield and gives me another look.

I contemplate walloping him with a feminist rant, but the very thought is exhausting. Feminist rants aren’t often effective, anyway. Instead, I ask, “What about men, who have traveled alone for work for years?” He laughs. “Sure. There are solutions for that,” he says, shooing away the woman who wants to clean his windshield at the stoplight. “Haven’t you ever been… tempted?” he asks.

“Actually, no,” I say, relieved we’re finally at the airport.

**
Lots has been written about solo female travel.

Far less has been written about traveling solo as a woman who is married, but whose partner is at home.

Safety-wise, most, if not all, of the same tips for solo female travel apply to the married woman whose partner isn’t along for the trip.

But in many ways, I think the married woman traveling alone has even more to deal with than her solo female travelers who are not in a relationship. The anecdotes above were all from a single trip made during the past month, but I’ve had many similar conversations on other occasions in various countries. Many men I meet while I’m traveling simply can’t understand why a married woman would travel alone, much less why–in their words–”your husband would let you.”

To explain the answers to either of those questions–whether they’re stated or implied– would take a lot of time because they’re not simple and don’t fit expectations or stereotypes. But frankly, I don’t want to have to explain the answers because what right does the person who’s asking me why I’m traveling alone and leaving my side of the marital bed cold have to raise those questions in the first place?

Traveling alone as a married woman invites all sorts of speculation, none of it positive. I must be trying to escape something. My husband must be happy I’m gone; it gives him time to dally about with other women. Our marriage must have problems. I must be meeting male seat mates on planes, or married men at a hotel bar, or desperate singles over something as romantic as a bull fight, allowing them to sweep me off my bored, married feet and into their beds.

The only problem is that none of this is true.

I’m not headed anywhere with this- I don’t have any “Top 10 Tips” to dispense or any witty comebacks that have become my stock responses in these exchanges. I’d love your thoughts, though. How would you (or how do you) respond in these types of situations?

Though I was headed to the airport, on my way home, in less than an hour, it would be 12 more hours before I’d be back in New York with my family. They were having an emergency, I wasn’t sure what it was, and I couldn’t get home any faster even if I did. I sent a quick email full of spelling errors to a New York friend, asking her to check in on Francisco and Mariel; then, I hopped in a taxi, bound for the airport.

I’ve been traveling on back-to-back trips since mid-September and only one of those four trips has involved my family coming along with me. So much time away from them has helped me become more attentive to how important it is to take care of your family at home while you’re traveling abroad. There are steps to take before, during, and after the trip to make sure that they’re as safe as happy as they can be while you’re off in the world; here are a few that I implement consistently:

BEFORE THE TRIP
1. Make sure your partner has your travel information.
Making sure your partner has your flight or transportation details, the name and contact information for the places you’re staying, and at least a rough outline of your overall itinerary can go a long way toward lessening his/her anxiety, loneliness, or sense of worry. I email Francisco a copy of all of my travel plans and update him during the trip if something important changes.

Francisco and Mariel

3. Set expectations about frequency and method of communication.
It’s much easier for your child and partner to cope with not hearing from you if they know there’s a chance you’ll be in an area without Internet and/or phone access. Try to tell them this in advance, though.

4. Have a trusted friend to help in an emergency.
Here’s hoping you’ll never need it, but should your family have an emergency, you and your partner should both have a designated contact person through whom you can communicate.

DURING THE TRIP
1. Keep in contact.
If you’ve set expectations about when you’ll be communicating, keep your word and follow through. When I’m traveling without my family, we try to connect briefly each morning and for a longer period each night for a video chat on Skype. If our schedules don’t line up because of time zone differences or a change in my itinerary, I at least try to send a quick message saying what the change is and when they can expect to hear from me again.

2. Be honest about changes, but try to keep worry at a minimum.
During my Mexico trip, I had to take an eight hour trip on a night bus, through the mountains… twice. This was definitely not part of my plan, and it didn’t exactly thrill Francisco, who worried for my safety. I would have preferred not to have told him until afterward, but I knew that (1) someone needed to know where I was and (2) he’d be more worried not to hear from me at all. Whatever your partner needs to know you’re ok, try to give it to him/her.

3. Do little things to let your family know you’re thinking of them.
I was in Spain, Belize, and then Mexico, having incredible experiences, while my husband and our daughter stayed home in a rainy New York. Whenever possible, I tried to do little things to let them know I was thinking of them. For Francisco, this meant writing an email when I got to Guadalajara to say that my return to that city made me think of time we spent there several years earlier. It also meant sending him pictures of Cuban athletes from the Pan American Games.

4. Buy souvenirs.
We don’t really need any more dust collectors in our home, but when I can find a useful or thoughtful gift–coffee from Chiapas, a hat from Madrid, a pin from the Pan American Games–I pick it up so that Francisco and Mariel know that they were on my mind.

5. Rest on the way home.
If you have a long trip home, try to sleep or at least recover some of your energy so you return home fresh. Your family’s probably going to be thrilled to see you and excited about spending time with you; if you’re exhausted, that’s a total downer for them.

AFTER THE TRIP

1. Set aside special time for your family.
Having come back from almost three weeks of travel, it was critical that I return home and spend some quality catch-up time with my family. I stayed off the computer for the weekend and we made plans to go to a retreat center with some friends. As much as my inbox needed my attention, my family needed it a lot more.

2. Share the experiences with them when they’re ready.
Your family is probably interested in knowing what you experienced without them, but they may not exactly be ready for a slideshow of hundreds of photos as soon as you walk in the door. Let them tell you when they’re ready to hear all about your adventures.

3. Ask about their experiences, too.
Though their adventures at home might not have been as epic as yours, demonstrate interest in what they were up to while you were away.

Have your own tips for taking care of your family while you’re traveling? Share them in the comments.

Guadalajara inaugurates the 2011 Pan American Games

“Que tal Guadalajara?” I ask the taxi driver as we leave the airport en route to Del Carmen Concept Hotel, where I’ll be staying for the next three nights. I was last here in 2008, updating a guide to Guadalajara for Gayot, and I’m wondering how the city has changed since then.

“Uuf,” he replies. I wait for elaboration, but it’s slow in coming and vague when it finally arrives. “It’s changed bastante,” he says. I want him to say more, to say how it has changed and to analyze those changes from his place behind the wheel, but he refrains, which may be smart. When your city is hosting an international sporting event in a time when your country is under intense scrutiny, perhaps you can’t afford to be overly free with your opinions. Either that, or he just prefers the quiet.

The taxi driver won’t have much of that this week; today is the opening of the Pan American Games and everything is motion and buzz. Runners are sporting the flame in the traditional relay; as I approach the city, the flame is approaching it, too. The country’s biggest names in music– Vicente Fernandez and Alejandro Fernandez– are surely warming up their vocal cords in preparation for their performances tonight.

My press credential for the Pan Am Games

And I’m among them.

For the next three days, I’ll be covering the Pan Am Games for this site, as well as for Matador.

I hope you’ll follow along. I’ll also be on twitter, checking in on foursquare and Gowalla, and posting photos on instagram and flickr.

Have questions about the Games? Please leave them in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer them.

You don't want to wait in a line like this.

**
US Customs and Border Protection officials have been pushing the Global Entry Trusted Traveler program hard this past year, trying to convince frequent travelers that the $100 annual fee for this “fast track” service is worth the investment.

I was initially reluctant to plunk down such a large sum, but a fellow travel writer, Sarah Munoz, convinced me that Global Entry was worth every penny, so I sent in my application, paid my $100, and waited for an interview to see if I’d been approved.

The Global Entry card speeds up your Immigration and Customs processes upon returning to the United States if you are a US citizen or permanent resident. When you land, you proceed to Immigration, scan your passport at a Global Entry kiosk (no wait and no agent!), scan your fingerprints, and make a Customs declaration on screen. The machine will issue a ticket that you present to Customs official in lieu of the traditional blue and white Customs declaration form.

If you land at an airport without a kiosk (and you should check that list here), then you can still fast track through Immigration and Customs, moving to the front of the line by showing your passport, which will have a “CBP” sticker affixed inside the back cover.

If you’re a frequent traveler crossing the Canadian and/or Mexican borders by land, then you will be given a driver’s license sized card that you can use to speed through border checkpoints. Be aware, though, if that your fellow passengers aren’t Global Entry members, you’ll be slowed down, as they’ll be subjected to the traditional Immigration procedures.

So what’s the verdict… is the investment worthwhile? Yes, but with a few caveats. First, the Global Entry program probably isn’t for you if you’re not a frequent flyer.

Second, the time you save at Immigration and Customs isn’t worth anything at all if you come out the other side and still have to wait 40 minutes for your luggage. I sped through Immigration at JFK in under two minutes after returning from the Catalonian Pyrenees earlier this month, but I then had to wait for my checked bag for 40 minutes… along with everyone else who’d done their time in the Immigration line. The Global Entry pass isn’t really worth the investment unless you’re able to travel solely with carry-ons. (I learned my lesson and pack lighter now. Last night I was in and out of JFK in under two minutes).

Finally, once you pay your $100 application fee, it’s deposited into the coffers of the US government, regardless of whether you are approved as a Global Entry member. The approval process can take a couple months; once you submit your application, you sit around and wait for an interview appointment. Once you’ve scheduled the appointment, though, a decision is made the same day and your passport is stickered (and, if applicable, your ID card is processed; it will be sent to you about 7-14 days later). The card is valid for five years.

Questions? Feel free to ask more about the Global Entry program in the comments.

Balloon's shadow

When I was a kid, my elementary school sponsored a reading contest. The prize: a “trip” in a hot air balloon. There are few things you know for certain when you’re 7 years old, but I knew this: I was going to win that contest.

I did win the contest (I loved to read and no one could keep up with me), but the day I was supposed to go up in the balloon, the weather was bad. I seem to remember that I got in the basket but that the whole shebang stayed anchored to the ground.

*
Fast forward 27 years. I am 34, I still know only a few things for certain, and I still love to read. And this time, I am going up in that balloon.

Floating over the Pyrenees

It was worth the wait because this trip didn’t take me over the relatively flat, developed landscape of Spartanburg, South Carolina; instead, I drifted over the Pyrenees of Catalonia.

As the balloon floated up, the pilot pointed out the Santa Margarita Crater, shaped by volcanic activity. A small church sits inside the crater. We kept ascending until we were 600 meters (almost 2,000 feet) and the Pyrenees surrounded us, right at eye level.

Though I was with the other members of the #inPyrenees blog trip team, all of us laughing and clinking glasses of cava at 8:24 AM (a personal record for early libations of any sort), the experience was one of complete calm. The ride was smooth and quiet and full of light; the sun was ascending alongside us.

The company that took us up, Vol de Coloms, was exceptional. Though the price per passenger–170 euros for adults (100 euros for children ages 5 to 10)–may seem steep, keep in mind that you’re in the balloon for at least two hours, you’re served cava and coca (a sweet bread) in flight, and you’re driven to a wonderful brunch afterward.

Brunch includes locally cured meats

Plus, you’re given a beautiful souvenir poster by the company, which is owned and operated by four brothers.

IF YOU GO:
Vol de Coloms
972 680 255
http://www.voldecoloms.cat/skin/default.aspx

Plan ahead, as flights leave early in the morning and take-off is dependent upon the weather. You may want to plan this earlier in your trip; if the balloon isn’t able to leave on your originally scheduled date, then you might be able to reschedule it.

“We just finished lunch,” Rich said, as we met in the lobby of Hotel Bernat de So to leave for dinner. Having arrived slightly later, I’d missed the mid-afternoon spread, which consisted of bull, bread, tomatoes, and at least a half dozen other dishes. Rich was full, but I was hungry, having just arrived from Barcelona after 12 hours of flying.

Soon enough, I’d be sated, and Rich, ever able to find just a bit more room in his stomach, would be satisfied again, too. Dinner was at La formatgeria de Llivia, a fondue restaurant in a part of the Pyrenees that’s technically in France.

La Formatgeria de Llivia

For Americans, “fondue restaurant” may evoke images of the chain restaurant, The Melting Pot, but banish that from your mind immediately. La Formatgeria de Llivia is located in an old cheese factory and glows with the warm intimacy of someone’s home– children’s drawings are taped to a column near the bar, and sofas and chairs are arranged around a wood-burning stove. If you come for “comida” (lunch), then you can eat on the terrace; from there, you can see for miles. See? Nothing like The Melting Pot.

Oxtail

A parade of plates cluttered the table, jockeying for space amidst wine bottles (the Mas Collet, a smooth-bodied red, was my favorite, and the best wine I’ve had in a while). There were the cured meats, a cheese plate, a delicious, silky oxtail en papillote, and a blood sausage that was surprisingly good.

Cod- in cheese, of course

Looking at the photos now, I’m almost feeling hungry.

But not quite. I think I can wait for tomorrow… when we’re scheduled to have lunch at a restaurant headed by a former boxer turned world champion pizza maker.

To see more photos from the Pyrenees, click here.