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10 European Discoveries for 2021

On the horizon, there is light. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s coming. Although it has never been more important (or harder) to continue staying home, limiting contact with others, wearing masks, and so on, it’s beginning to feel like 2021 may bring the “return to normal” — and the return to travel — that we all crave. It’s too early to begin planning trips, but it’s never too early to dream. So…where to?

The last several years, my New Year tradition has been to assemble a list of 10 European Discoveries. As we reach the end of a year of hardship, and face a new year of further uncertainty, I almost bailed on this idea. But we will return to Europe. It’s just a question of when. So I’ll keep with tradition — but with a new spin.

I believe that in the post-pandemic world, travelers will look for something different. Before COVID-19, we had gotten so busy, and so stressed by the crowds, that we forgot to slow down and hear the church bells — to savor those beautiful everyday moments of European life. (If I have a post-pandemic resolution, it’s to not make this mistake again.) Having renewed our appreciation for the incredible privilege of being able to go anywhere we want, we’ll seek opportunities to settle in, slow down, and be fully present in Europe. We’ll choose places just outside the mainstream, ones that reward patience and contemplation.

And that’s the theme of my 2021 European Discoveries: 10 places where you might want to settle in for a week, or a few, and really get to know a fascinating corner of our planet. I haven’t set foot in Europe in well over a year — with, I assume, several more months yet to go. It has afforded me ample opportunity to reflect on my 20-plus years of exploring Europe. And looking back on all of it, these are the places the burn brightest in my mind.

Where are you hoping to slow down and savor our world in 2021?

 

Soča Valley, Slovenia

I can think of few places I’ve missed more in 2020 than Slovenia. And for me, the most beautiful place in this incredibly beautiful country is the Soča Valley, where a turquoise river cuts a gorge deep into soaring alpine cliffs, just a few miles from the borders with Austria and Italy. Historians know the Soča Valley for its fierce mountaintop battles during World War I (this is where Ernest Hemingway was wounded while driving an ambulance). And contemporary travelers know it as an adventure-sports capital (whitewater rafting, canyoning, paragliding) and home to the restaurant of Ana Roš, the world’s best female chef. You can get a taste of the Soča Valley on a very busy one-day side-trip from Lake Bled or Ljubljana. But why not settle in for several days? Sleep at a tourist farm on a high-mountain pasture, wake up each day to the sun peeking over snowcapped mountains, and spend your breakfast (of farm-fresh eggs) deciding which breathtaking hike or scenic drive to do today.

 

The Markets of Provence

In September of 2019, my wife and I had a full week to unwind anywhere in Europe. Already exhausted from a packed and fast-paced year of travel, we opted for a quiet weeklong break in the South of France. Why? We wanted to savor the delightful market days (jours de marché) that hop from place to place around the bucolic Provençal countryside. In one week, we sampled seven different markets, each with its own personality. Yes, Provence is packed with other attractions: great sights and wine-tastings and gourmet meals and scenic hikes and hot-air balloon rides. But the markets are precisely the type of sensory super-experience we’re all desperate for after a 2020 spent very close to home. After living through a time when going to the corner grocery store feels like high adventure, imagine the thrill of strolling a lively town square, generously shaded by plane trees, as you choose a little wheel of cheese for your picnic from a mound of fragrant options, browse for just the right produce for a home-cooked Provençal feast, and bite into a strawberry that truly, intensely tastes like strawberry.

 

Budapest

I wrote the book on Budapest…literally. And yet, even after 20-some visits, I still can’t get enough of this grand city on the Danube. With each weeklong visit to update my guidebook, the list of things I’d still like to see and do gets longer, not shorter. The melting pot and de facto capital of Central Europe, Budapest’s unique urban culture mixes a respect for tradition with a cosmopolitan openness to creativity and innovation. It wins my vote for the hands-down best restaurant and nightlife scene in Europe. And yet it also has a stately elegance, with ornate turn-of-the-century buildings, inviting tree-lined plazas, and wooded hills ideal for nature hikes. (And don’t get me started on the thermal baths.) Last March, I had already booked my tickets for yet another visit to Budapest, and I couldn’t wait. That trip, of course, never happened. And by the time I finally get back there, the anticipation will be unbearable. I never know precisely what I’ll see, do, and learn in Budapest. But I know it’ll create lasting memories.

 

Iceland’s Ring Road

When we produced our Rick Steves Iceland guidebook, we included a “how to” chapter on Europe’s ultimate road trip: driving 800 miles on Highway 1 around the perimeter of Iceland, connecting astonishing scenery, geothermal hotspots, glaciers and icebergs, charming fjordside settlements, and warm and wonderful Icelanders. We covered the Ring Road generously in our book, even though we figured very few people would devote the full week required to do this trip justice. But maybe we were wrong. The pandemic has made National Lampoon’s Vacation-style road trips all the rage again. There’s never been a better time to rack up some serious miles through cinematic landscapes and have an honest-to-goodness adventure. And Iceland is made to order for “social distancing” as we tiptoe into the post-pandemic future. My Ring Road post covers the basics; if the photos and places intrigue you, forget about that “48-hour Icelandic layover” you’ve been contemplating…go all-in on the full Ring Road.

 

North Wales

Recently I had the joyful experience of driving around North Wales (roughly the triangle formed by Conwy, Caernarfon, and Ruthin) for several days to update our Rick Steves Great Britain guidebook. I adore Europe’s plucky, off-the-beaten-path cultural eddies, and North Wales tops the list. Along with offering a fascinating crash course in Welsh culture and language, this region is studded with towering stone castles that make you feel like a kid again, a rugged landscape of craggy mountains and slate rooftops, and cheery red dragons laughing down from every flagpole. And it’s compact, making it easy to see a lot from any one of a number of charming home bases. While less known than the Scottish Highlands or Ireland’s Dingle Peninsula, North Wales is every bit as fun, scenic, and culturally rich.

 

Maramureș, Romania

Years ago, my Dad and I went on a road trip through Romania, seeking traditional culture. When we came to Maramureș — ten long, potholed hours of driving north of Bucharest — we felt like anthropologists stumbling upon a place that time forgot. The rolling green hillsides are dotted with giant, tipsy haystacks. Rustic villages with mud roads — and more horse carts than cars — are lined with elaborate wooden churches and ceremonial gateways. Shepherds living in split-wood shacks make cheese like medieval peasants. And riverside settlements bustle with industry dating back to biblical times, from carpet-washers to fulling mills to to weaving looms to moonshine stills. This is not an “open-air folk museum” — it’s the real deal, Europe’s Amish Country. As our world changes at a dizzying pace — which only accelerated in 2020 — there’s no guarantee that Maramureș traditions will survive for much longer. (Teo Ivanciuc, an excellent local guide who helped us film our TV segment in Maramures, would love to show you around.)

 

Camino de Santiago, Spain

In the Middle Ages, pilgrims walked from all over Europe to venerate the bones of St. James in Santiago de Compostela, at the northwest corner of Iberia. This route — the Camino de Santiago — was largely forgotten over the centuries, only to be rediscovered in our own lifetime by travelers seeking an escape from modern life. After a year of deep soul-searching, there’s nothing like a four-week hike to clear the mind, synthesize all we’ve learned, and contemplate where to go from here. Begin in the green Pyrenees foothills of Basque Country, then walk across the arid plains of northern Spain, through villages and cities and across stone bridges from Roman times, before finally passing trough the wilds of lush, green, and rocky Galícia — all along the way, sleeping in rustic pilgrims’ hostels and following scallop shells through the wilderness. I’ve hiked bits of the Camino here and there (and I drove the entire route, end to end, to write a “how to” chapter in our Rick Steves Spain guidebook). But I’ve never been so tempted to do the full Camino the old-fashioned way.

 

Lofoten Islands, Norway

All my life, I’d seen this magical place in postcards and coffee-table books: soulful fjords with cut-glass mountains rising high above serene, deep waters, speckled with red cottages and almost no people. My wife and I decided we simply had to see this scene for ourselves. And when we finally made it to the Lofoten Islands — above the Arctic Circle and chilly even in August — we found it even more stunning than the photos. Getting to the Lofoten requires some effort (from Oslo, fly due north for an hour and a half), so you might as well settle in. The rugged Norwegians who’ve carved out a hardy life up here, hanging cod to dry on rickety wooden frames, are adept at introducing visitors to traditional lifestyles. Rent a rorbu (cheery cottage perched on stilts over the fjord) and spend a few days just tooling around, from the “capital city” village of Svolvær to the end-of-the-road cod-fishing settlement called Å. We home-based in Reine, perched on a flat rock in the middle of a fjord with the most stunning views in all of the Lofoten, and from there we ventured out to see everything the archipelago has to offer.

 

New Zealand

Sure, it’s not “European” in geographical terms. But for anyone who loves Europe, New Zealand feels strikingly familiar…yet excitingly different. (One afternoon, you’re punting the River Avon in Christchurch, as if you were in an English country garden; the next day, you’re swimming with dolphins at Kaikoura.) After years of hearing from our well-traveled friends about this seemingly too-good-to-be-true land, my wife and I finally spent a few weeks here in early 2019. And we fell instantly, hopelessly in love. Yes, the scenery is gobsmacking, and Lord of the Rings fans are in heaven. But New Zealand is so much more: a melding of Europe and Polynesia set amidst an entertaining landscape, where majestic glaciers rise high above steamy groves of ferns and palm trees. We loved sampling the local wine, craft beer, and third-wave coffee culture; learning about the indigenous Māori culture; and getting to know the wonderful Kiwis, who somehow manage to be well-organized and ceaselessly competent while remaining low-key and easygoing. Even before we came home, we’d already started Googling “How do I emigrate to New Zealand?” Now that the Kiwis (under the steady and compassionate leadership of Jacinda Ardern) have managed the pandemic better than anyone, this little island nation is sure to be flooded soon with more than its share of tourists…and transplants. Why not finally get down there soon,  ahead of the crowds? As soon as they open up to outsiders, New Zealand is at the top of our list of post-pandemic dreams.

 

Agriturismo Cretaiole, Tuscany

For years I’ve been singing the praises of a very special place to stay in the most beautiful corner of Tuscany. On a wooded ridge just outside Pienza, city mouse Isabella married country mouse Carlo and, together, they converted a traditional Tuscan farm into the best possible expression of an agriturismo — where visitors experience rural Italian culture and cuisine with modern comforts. With each visit, this place impresses me even more — and especially the vivid, perfectly orchestrated Tuscan experiences that Isabella creates for her guests: truffle hunts, pasta-rolling parties, olive oil appreciation classes, wine tastings, deeply meaningful nature hikes, and on and on. When I close my eyes and picture the one place I’d love to get back to as soon as I can, it’s spending a week — or more — at Cretaiole.

On my most recent visit to Tuscany, a few months before COVID-19 hit, Isabella showed me around her gorgeous new boutique hotel (La Moscadella), offering a similar Tuscan cultural experience with more luxury. But now that fine hotel, and the original farmhouse, sit mostly empty — one more tragedy in this year full of them. Whether it’s Cretaiole or some other perfect place you’ve discovered in your travels, small businesses are hurting right now. If you have the means to travel, as soon as it’s safe, consider booking a return visit. Helping to jump-start these businesses is the least we can do, considering all of the joy people like Isabella and Carlo have brought to our lives over the years.

I’m hoping that 2021 brings good fortune and a return to what we love, both for us travelers and for the people we meet on the road. Like all things, this too shall pass. And a year from now, if all goes well, we’ll be comparing notes about a whole new slew of discoveries for a new age of travel.

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Thanksgiving in Tuscany: A Treasured Travel Memory

Eight months later, our world remains upside-down. And it’s becoming clear that nobody will (or should) be going anywhere this winter. If we ever want to “get back to normal” and travel again, it’s time to hunker down and relive favorite memories. For me, that means reminiscing about one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever…spent in beautiful Tuscany. I hope this little bit of armchair travel helps you get through another gloomy day, and reminds you of the fun that awaits us all on the other side of this pandemic.

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A few years ago at this time, I was getting ready to head to Tuscany for Thanksgiving with my wife’s family. The trip created some of the most vivid travel memories of my life: rolling hills, pretty as a painting, tufted with sprigs of vivid-green winter wheat; stony hill towns, normally jammed with tourists, instead buzzing with bundled-up Italians; amazing meals — featuring chestnuts, mushrooms, and persimmons — that redefined my sense of seasonal Italian cuisine.

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We stayed a full week at Agriturismo Cretaiole, perched on a ridge just outside of Pienza and wonderfully run by Isabella and Carlo. Isabella has a knack for understanding what her American clientele are looking for in a trip to Tuscany. So she set up three entirely different — and equally enjoyable — cooking classes: preparing a blowout feast in an Italian mama’s house; shadowing a Michelin chef in his restaurant’s kitchen; and rolling our own pasta back home at our agriturismo. (Meanwhile, Carlo’s dad, Luciano, kept us well-lubricated with nightly doses of grappa and Vin Santo.)

Montepulciano — my favorite Tuscan hill town — was quieter than usual, giving us a chance to linger over visits with  its colorful cast of craftsmen: Adamo, who’s evangelical about the local red wine; Cesare, a coppersmith who takes more joy these days in getting to know tourists than he does in creating pots and pans; and Guilio, whose steakhouse turns a chunk of beef into a work of art.

We also ventured into the autumnal countryside. Brown leaves crunching underfoot, we followed a talented dog as she sniffed out truffles. And then we had a truffle feast at a nearby restaurant. 

And, in general, we fully enjoyed being in the foodie paradise of Tuscany.

Finally, at the end of the week, we did a little “Black Friday” shopping in Tuscan hill towns, and enjoyed the first of Italy’s holiday lights.

The high point of our week was Thanksgiving dinner. When I tell people I was in Tuscany for Thanksgiving, their first question is — with a note of concern — “Did you have turkey?”

Americans love their Thanksgiving dinner. And many of us simply can’t fathom counting our blessings without an oversized portion of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Our agriturismo host, Isabella, understands this, so very early in the planning stages she reassured her nervous American guests: “And of course we will celebrate Thanksgiving with a special Thanksgiving meal — one with a Tuscan twist.” Well, phew!

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In typically thoughtful fashion, Isabella had arranged a fantastic feast, which happened to be at one of my favorite restaurants in the region (Ristorante Daria, in the tiny hill town of Monticchiello). Months before, Isabella had conspired with the owner/chef, Daria, over a list of traditional Thanksgiving dishes. And the gang at the restaurant had come up with a delicious mashup of American and Tuscan.

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The first two courses were the most Tuscan, but cleverly informed by “our” Thanksgiving ingredients: a delicate pumpkin soufflé, topped with creamy pecorino cheese sauce and fresh-grated truffle. And a dish of pillowy sweet potato gnocchi, gently nestled in a subtle citrus cream. Both dishes were, at once, explosively flavorful and intensely comforting. I would not mind seeing either of these on my Thanksgiving table for many years to come.

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Then it was time for the main event. The waitstaff loaded all of the turkey onto a tray and ceremonially paraded it through the restaurant, like proud hunters with their kill. Then they took it back into the kitchen and re-emerged with beautiful — and very traditional — plates of turkey, green beans, Brussels sprouts, and mashed potatoes…with, in a delicious Italian twist, a trickle of fresh-pressed olive oil.

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They also brought out some fantastic gravy and surprisingly traditional cranberry sauce. Daria explained that she’d asked some American friends to ship her some cranberries, which are completely unknown in Italy. (Pretend for a moment you’re an acclaimed Italian chef. And imagine your shock — and maybe disgust — upon taking your first-ever bite into a raw cranberry: sour and astringent, wrapped in a tough little shell and infused with a blood-red dye. How on earth do Americans eat this stuff? The answer: Lots and lots and lots of sugar. Even on her first try, Daria nailed it.)

Things are different for the holidays this year. And they were different that year, too. But one thing I’ve learned from that Thanksgiving in Tuscany — and other holidays that found me in  unusual places — is that, while traditions have their place, the really memorable holidays are the ones that are different. We’re all exhausted from trying to find a positive spin on these trying times. But perhaps you can forge some new traditions and make some new memories this year. It might not be sweet potato gnocchi, but one thing’s for sure: You’ll never forget it.

What are some of your favorite European memories to get through this long, dark winter?

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Want to Avoid the Crowds? Europe’s “Third-Rate” Towns Are Truly First-Rate

Europe is crowded — especially its big, famous sights. As you plan your 2020 travels, you may be looking to escape your fellow travelers. Here’s an idea: Consider going easy on Europe’s top-tier destinations, and instead check out some lesser-known places. Last year, I made a swing through what I think of as The Big Three: London, Paris, and Rome. But I also mixed in some smaller towns, including ones few travelers have heard of: Arezzo. Canterbury. Sarlat. And you know something? The experiences I had in Europe’s “third-rate” towns were truly first-rate.

Virtually everyone visiting Italy wants to go to the “first-rate” cities: Rome, Florence, and Venice. With more time, they add some “second-rate” destinations: Pisa, Assisi, Siena, Milan, and so on. But even once you get beyond those top tiers, Italy is rich with rewarding destinations.

I had this revelation when I spent a sleepy, rainy Saturday in the Tuscan town of Arezzo. It’s a midsize town that’s not included in our Rick Steves’ Italy guidebook — even with 1,250 pages of coverage, Arezzo doesn’t make the cut. I was here on the recommendation of an Italian friend, specifically to take a day off from the busy tourist towns I was visiting elsewhere in Italy: Assisi, Rome, and so on.  And I got exactly what I was looking for.

I love the endearing way that smaller cities have their own idiosyncratic claims to fame, which swell their residents’ pride. Arezzo has two: It’s home to a thriving weekend antiques market; and its Basilica of San Francesco is slathered with colorful frescoes by Piero della Francesca. I enjoyed those aspects of Arezzo. But mostly, I savored simply being alone in Italy…wandering all by myself through colorful and cobbled back lanes; having a memorable lunch at the town’s foodie splurge restaurant, just dropping in without a reservation; discovering a world-class neighborhood gelato shop; and browsing antiques alongside Tuscans furnishing their homes rather than tourists seeking souvenirs. I left Arezzo re-energized — and ready to plunge into Rome.

In England, everyone wants to go to “first-rate” London. With more time, they add some “second-rate” destinations — Bath, York, the Cotswolds, and so on. But there’s a steep drop-off in traffic when it comes to a town like Canterbury, where I retreated after two exhausting weeks of guidebook research in London. And, much as I love London, this trip reminded me that Canterbury is one of my favorite places in the UK.

Canterbury is best known for two things: First, its cathedral is the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who leads the Church of England. And second, English majors know the town for its role in Geoffrey Chaucer’s 14th-century Canterbury Tales, in which a ragtag assortment of pilgrims swap tall tales and parables on their journey to that famous church.

Of course, Canterbury is not entirely “undiscovered.” The knot of half-timbered streets ringing its cathedral and its bustling High Street are packed with visitors. But many of them are day trippers, and most never leave that compact core of town. I loved simply wandering Canterbury’s back streets, following its idyllic river, discovering lush parks, ogling its tidy brick row houses mixed in with tipsy Tudor black-and-white half-timbered homes. Even just a few steps off High Street took me to areas that have never seen a tourist.

Near Canterbury, I also spent time hiking along Beachy Head and the Seven Sisters (a less famous but drastically more pleasurable stretch of white cliffs than Dover’s); explored the characteristic Sissinghurst Gardens; took a day off in the English beach resort of Brighton; and toured the sprawling and fascinating Hampton Court Palace, infused with vivid memories of Henry VIII. I also visited far-better-known Cambridge, Oxford, and Windsor, where the oppressive crowds left me exasperated. But thinking back on my little swing through southeast England fills me with a happy glow…even though it was socked-in and drizzling the entire time.

In France, Paris is the first-rate, world-class “must.” Second-rate destinations include Provence, Nice and the French Riviera, Mont-St-Michel, and Normandy. But my personal favorite slice of France is third-rate: the Dordogne, huddled deep in the southwest, and its lovely market town of Sarlat.

Built of a lemony sandstone that seems to suck in the warmth and glow of the sun, Sarlat looks like a film set. It’s a town that celebrates geese: A bronze statue of two proud waterfowl honors the importance of foie gras in the local cuisine (and commerce). Twice a week, one of France’s best street markets (and that’s saying something) curls through Sarlat’s interlocking squares. On market day, Sarlat is one of the most engaging places in all of France…a feast for all the senses. On other days, it’s still an utter delight, exuding a “let’s-retire-here” serenity that has tourists checking their 401(k) balances.

Italy is richer with life-alteringly-wonderful “third-rate” towns than perhaps any country in Europe. In addition to Arezzo, many of my favorites are in Tuscany, Umbria, and other parts of Central Italy: Lucca,  Volterra,  Montepulciano,  Orvieto… the list goes on.

And then there’s Sorrento, perched over a serene bay just south of Naples, offering a genteel springboard for exploring the Amalfi Coast. And up north, a short train ride from Venice leads to the thriving university town of Padua, Romeo and Juliet’s hometown of Verona, and alpine Bolzano — so close to Austria you can practically hear the yodeling.

This is a fun game to play. In Germany, I love Berlin, Munich, Rothenburg, and the Rhine Valley — but Dresden, Erfurt, and Freiburg caught me off guard and captured my heart.

In Poland, Kraków is an all-star, but Gdańsk is an overlooked gem.

In Belgium, Brussels and Bruges are at the top of every traveler’s list, but Ghent and Antwerp are delightful discoveries that feel more authentic.

In Portugal, Lisbon is the undisputed champ, and Porto is the up-and-coming second city, but the sleepy university town of Coimbra is an unheralded joy.

In Croatia, everyone flocks to Dubrovnik and Split. Why not check out Slovenia’s Piran, just up the coast?

In Iceland, Reykjavík, the Golden Circle, and the Blue Lagoon get all of the attention. But my favorite corners of Iceland are the Westfjords, Lake Mývatn, and Seyðisfjörður on the Eastfjords.

In Hungary, Budapest is top dog, but Eger and Pécs are woefully underrated.

In Spain, it’s hard to resist the pull of Madrid, Barcelona, Sevilla, Granada, and Toledo. But my favorite Spanish memories take place in Salamanca, Bilbao, Arcos de la Frontera, and Santiago de Compostela.

I’m not (necessarily) saying to skip those world-class destinations entirely. If you’ve never been to Paris…then go to Paris. But consider changing it up by also visiting a smaller city or town that isn’t a household name back home. If nothing else, see Europe’s “third-rate” towns as an antidote to the crowds.

By the way, reviewing these photos, I notice two things: Gorgeous places…with virtually no people. I mean, just look at all of those empty cobbles. If you want Europe to yourself, go third-rate.

What are some of your favorite “third-rate” towns in Europe, and why?

For more ideas of lesser-known places to visit, check out my recent list of 10 European Discoveries for 2020…and my Discoveries for 2019 and 2018, too.

For more details on all of the destinations mentioned here, check out our Rick Steves guidebook series, which includes coverage of the biggies along with the “third-rate” alternatives.

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10 European Discoveries for 2020

In 2020, Europe will be more crowded than ever. Fortunately, there are still plenty of undiscovered alternatives: A sweet little beach town in Portugal. The quieter sides of London and Tuscany. The thriving tapas scene in an underrated Basque city. Street markets in Ljubljana and Provence. Switzerland’s capital and Bulgaria’s cultural capital. The wilds of northwest Iceland. The Tuscan island where Napoleon rallied for his final stand. And even a pilgrimage to a newly trendy nuclear meltdown site. These are my 10 European discoveries for 2020.

In 2019, my travels took me to London, Paris, and Rome; to Tuscany, Provence, and the Swiss Alps; and to the fjords of Iceland, the Julian Alps of Slovenia, and the white cliffs of England’s South Coast. And yet, reflecting on a  very busy year, I’m struck by how many of my fondest memories were forged not in the big-name destinations, but in out-of-the-way places. Continuing my annual tradition (check out my discoveries for 2018 and 2019), I’ve collected this list of Europe’s lesser-known highlights. You’ll notice a theme: Most of these are close to extremely famous — and extremely overrun — European biggies. It’s striking how, with a little effort, you can discover a little corner of Europe all to yourself.

 

The Westfjords, Iceland

About nine in ten visitors to Iceland hew close to the capital, Reykjavík, making speedy day trips to the Golden Circle, South Coast, and Blue Lagoon. That’s efficient and satisfying, if time is short. But to strike out on your own, head north — way north — to the Westfjords. Up here, just shy of the Arctic Circle, you’ll find boundless fjordland vistas, thundering bridal-veil waterfalls (including one of Iceland’s best, Dynjandi), plucky and kind locals, and one of the world’s top bird cliffs, a magical place called Látrabjarg. If you’ve made brief “layover” forays into Iceland and are ready to invest a few days in getting way off the beaten path…the Westfjords are for you. My trip to the Westfjords in September of 2019 — to write a brand-new chapter for the second edition of our Rick Steves Iceland guidebook (coming soon) — ranks as one of my all-time favorite road trips.

 

Untouristy London

London is a world in itself — endlessly, relentlessly, exhaustingly engaging. For some, it can be too much. When visiting London, hit the big sights, sure. (Ideally equipped with some smart crowd-beating tips.) But make a point to also break out of the tourist rut and become a temporary Londoner. During my two weeks in London in 2019, I cycled through “Little Venice” along the Regent’s Canal, explored hipster street markets (my favorite is Maltby Street Rope Walk Market), hiked across the urban wilderness of Hampstead Heath, explored the Shoreditch street-art-and-foodie neighborhood, checked out the food halls of Brixton, and rode a commuter train to the lovely suburban neighborhood of Dullwich. London is one of Europe’s most satisfying cities to explore. So…explore.

By the way, this approach also works like a charm in other overcrowded cities. For example, in Rome, consider skipping the Sistine Chapel and the Colosseum and heading to some exponentially less overrun alternatives. (I love Rome’s Monti neighborhood, across the street from the Ancient Forum.)

 

Bern, Switzerland

Switzerland’s seat of government is also its most appealing urban playground. Livable Bern is tucked quietly between some of Switzerland’s most heavily trafficked destinations — namely, the Berner Oberland and Lake Luzern. And yet, it’s one of the only European capitals where locals complain about how few tourists visit, rather than how many. Updating our Rick Steves Switzerland guidebook in Bern this fall, I enjoyed the city’s pristine arcaded streets, playful fountains, engaging museums, super-scenic bridges, warm sandstone townhouses, low-key students-and-politicians pace of life, and convivial park huddled under its towering church steeple. One Friday evening at sunset, I hiked up to a tranquil rose garden where everyone was just hanging out, peering out over the handsome cityscape, and waiting for the sun to go down. It was — in a most unexpected place — one of my favorite travel memories of 2019. (Our Best of Switzerland Tour ends with a night in this fine little city.)

 

Ljubljana’s “Open Kitchen,” Slovenia

Speaking of underrated capitals, Ljubljana has long been my favorite little city in Europe. And it just keeps getting better. While Ljubljana is inviting anytime, do your best to visit on a Friday (from mid-March through mid-October, weather permitting). That’s when the market square plays host to the wonderful Open Kitchen, one of my favorite food events in Europe. Each of the several dozen stalls is operated by a brick-and-mortar restaurant, from internationally recognized chefs to hole-in-the-wall dives. And the variety is bewildering: During my visit in early October, I saw vegan burgers, huge simmering pans of paella, Argentinian steaks, ribs and pulled pork, Indian dosas, Belgian waffles, poke bowls, Slovenian microbrews, Chinese noodles, hearty sausages and čevapčići, delicate macarons, and an entire roast pig on a spit. People settle into big shared tables or grab a seat on the cathedral steps to graze and socialize. It’s a melting pot of culinary Slovenia — home to one of Europe’s most underappreciated food scenes.

 

Salema, Portugal

Of the many things that Rick and I agree on, this tops the list: Salema — a tiny town on Portugal’s Algarve Coast — may be the best beach town in Europe. It’s just down the coast from big, glitzy resorts (like Lagos, Abufeira, and Portimão). But Salema feels like an idyllic, Old World hideaway. Visiting recently to update the Algarve chapter for our Rick Steves Portugal guidebook, I was utterly charmed by Salema. It doesn’t have enough hotels, and the ones it has are past their prime (or humble-by-design). Sunbathers share the beach with fishing boats, pulled just beyond the reach of the tide. Grizzled fisherfolk grab the shade at a beachfront café near the communal tractor they use to hoist those boats up onto the sand. The cobbled main drag climbs up through a whitewashed world of simple homes. And Salema’s beach — with powdery yellow sand, just the right amount of surf, vivid-yellow cliffs, and beach bars happy to rent you a thatched umbrella and a lounger — is made to order for a day of sunbathing and splashing.

 

Chernobyl, Ukraine

Yes, really. Chernobyl — a two-hour drive north of the Ukrainian capital, Kyiv — is a compelling, moving, and (if science is to be believed) safe place to visit. I went to Chernobyl in late 2018 (before it was “cool”) and found the experience captivating. With the smash success of HBO’s award-winning Chernobyl miniseries in 2019, the site of humankind’s worst nuclear accident is becoming known as a travel destination. Why visit? Touring Chernobyl offers an unforgettable lesson in radiation, and its capacity for both technological achievement and destruction. It lets you walk through a trapped-in-time, Cold War-era Soviet workers’ town, and witness the power of nature to reclaim abandoned civilization. And, most importantly, it shares the poignant stories of the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives to contain the meltdown, saving Ukraine — and, likely, much of Europe — from a horrifying fate. It’s hard to imagine a more memorable day out, anywhere in Europe, than Chernobyl.

 

Lesser-Known Markets of Provence, France

In the fall of 2019, my wife and I spent a week in Provence, making a point to visit a different market each day. We enjoyed the biggies (like the ones in l’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, Aix-en-Provence, and Uzès). But our favorites were the lesser-known alternatives. On Tuesday in Vaison-la-Romaine, we browsed the floral soaps and lavender sachets that were piled on rickety tables between Roman ruins. On Friday in Lourmarin, we strolled into town along a plane tree-shaded boulevard, lined on both sides with stacks of colorful, plump produce and mounds of glistening olives. And on Sunday in Coustellet, at a lowbrow market filling the crossroad village’s dusty parking lot, we picked up a droopy bouquet of sunflowers, plus some smoked meats and mountain cheese for a picnic. The fact is, every day of the week,  a variety of markets enliven no-name towns all over Provence. Figure out which one’s nearest to you (listed in our Rick Steves Provence & the French Riviera guidebook)… and check it out.

 

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

Bulgaria remains one of Europe’s most underrated destinations. And if I had to pick one place to visit in Bulgaria, it’d be Plovdiv. This small city of 340,000 has a modern bustle, with a pedestrian-friendly shopping boulevard slathered in vivid street art. It has a funky hipster zone — nicknamed “The Mousetrap” — where communist-kitsch posters laugh down over diners feasting on upmarket Bulgarian fare. And draped over a hillside above the modern city, the atmospheric old town has a remarkably well-preserved Roman amphitheater, colorful traditional homes in the Bulgarian National Revival style, and one of Europe’s very best “hidden gem” art museums, featuring the works of Zlatyu Boyadzhiev —  the “Bulgarian Van Gogh,” who taught himself to paint left-handed after a stroke. If more people knew about Plovdiv, it’d be a tourist mecca. But they don’t…so for now, it’s all yours.

Plovdiv is one of the highlights on our Best of Bulgaria Tour; for a sneak preview, check out this segment from our Bulgaria TV show.

 

Bilbao Tapas Scene, Spain

The Basque Country is one of Spain’s culinary hotspots, and the genteel beach town of San Sebastián hogs much of the attention. But don’t overlook the bigger urban center of Bilbao, just an hour’s drive to the west. On a recent visit to Bilbao, I arrived late on a Friday evening. From my little B&B in the heart of the old town, I stepped out into a commotion of thriving bars and restaurants, each one with a creative array of tapas proudly lined up on the counter. Facing the Atlantic, Bilbao’s tapas bars come with more than their share of mysterious seafood — mounted on a crunchy little disc of baguette or skewered with a toothpick. As a bonus, you can go for an after-dinner stroll along the serene embankment, culminating in a floodlit view of Frank Gehry’s iconic Guggenheim Bilbao. (Our Basque Country Tour ends with two nights in Bilbao.)

If you’re headed out on a tapas crawl, and want to increase your odds of getting ostras (oysters) instead of orejas (pig’s ears), consider these tapas tips.

 

The Isle of Elba, Tuscany, Italy

This island is best known as the place where Napoleon was sent into exile. Turns out, it’s also ideal for a beach break from a busy Tuscan itinerary. Connected to mainland Tuscany by an easy one-hour ferry ride, Elba comes with a textbook “salty Mediterranean harbor,” a couple of evocatively faded Napoleonic palaces, scenic drives to secluded beaches, and an unforgettable gondola ride to the island’s rocky summit in an open-air cage that had me feeling like a parakeet going for the ride of its life. The designers of our brand-new Best of Tuscany Tour deserve the credit for this one: After they included Elba on the tour route, I went there to add it to the newly released 19th edition of our Rick Steves Florence & Tuscany guidebook… and I was hooked. (Check out my full report on Elba.)  In fact, I’ll be returning to Elba in 2020 as a tour member on that new Tuscany tour. And I can’t wait.

 

How about you? What are your favorite European discoveries? Where are you most excited to visit in 2020?

Need more inspiration? My “discoveries” lists for both 2018 and 2019 are still great choices in 2020.

I’ll be posting more about several of these discoveries — including Iceland’s Westfjords, the markets of Provence, and Switzerland’s underrated cities — in the next few weeks. To make sure you don’t miss anything, “like” me on Facebook.

Wherever you’re going in 2020…happy travels!

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In Rome, You Can Never Get a Taxi When It Rains

Visitors (and even Romans) often describe Rome in terms of “chaos.” That strikes me a little unfair, because I so often experience great hospitality and kindness in the Eternal City.

But then it rains, and everything goes straight to hell.

I’m finally going home, after a long six-week journey through Europe. My grand finale is Rome. And on the morning of my departure, I pack up my bag and head downstairs to hop in a cab to the airport. It’s Saturday morning, about nine o’clock.

When I tell the receptionist I’ll be needing a taxi, a flash of quickly suppressed panic crosses his face. Feigning competence like a champ, he quickly gets on his computer and requests one for me. “It’ll just be a moment. Once they confirm, I can give you the name and the time of arrival.”

A few minutes pass. I’m relaxed, but he’s growing noticeably agitated. Finally, he tries calling, and is put immediately on hold.

Enough time goes by for me to recall how, the day before, I overheard a fellow guest ask to order a taxi for the next day. They were assured it was not necessary — “Just tell us when you’re ready to leave, and we’ll call one. It will be here in five, ten minutes maximum. No problem.”

The night before, I double-checked and got exactly the same response: “Five, ten minutes, no problem.”

But this morning — a mere 10 hours later — the receptionist’s quest to order a taxi is entering its eighth minute.

He looks at me apologetically. “In Rome, when it rains, it becomes very hard to get a taxi.” Apologetic shrug.

I glance outside, at bright sunshine gleaming off wet cobbles. “But…it’s…not raining.”

“Huh. Well, yes, now. But thirty minutes ago…” Big shrug.

He glances over at the bellhop, who smiles and returns the big shrug.

We stand there, waiting, serenaded by the taxi dispatcher’s schmaltzy hold music. He clicks feverishly on his keyboard. Noticing the “four stars” sign above his head, I begin mentally subtracting stars.

Finally, after 10 or 12 minutes, the phone muzak is abruptly disconnected.

“Well,” he says, “It seems that we may not be able to get you a taxi.” Big shrug.

Three stars.

“But,” I say. “I was told that it wasn’t necessary to order one ahead. That you could just call one.”

“Huh, yes, well, normally,” he shrugs. “But it’s raining, so you understand, there are no taxis available.” Shrugging, he repositions his computer screen toward me, so I can see for myself that his online request, too, has twice been declined.

“Don’t you think, maybe, you could have told me that when I asked about this yesterday? You could have said, ‘It’s no problem unless it rains, in which case you need a little more time’?”

The idea is preposterous to him, and he explodes with laughter. “Ha! Well, sir, of course you can’t expect us to predict the weather, now can you?” He laughs heartily at his own zinger and glances over to the bellhop for backup. The bellhop looks up from what he’s doing to return a generous chuckle, with a side of shrug.

It takes the bellhop a moment to respond because — and I swear I am not making this up — at this precise moment, he is talking to a rather unpleasant American guest who has been loudly complaining about the weather. To egg her on, he is showing her the many rainclouds in the weather app on his phone.

Two stars.

Also — and I apologize if I’m pressing the point too much — but it’s not like we’re in the Gobi Desert here. It rains in Rome. It has rained four of the last five days in Rome. In Rome, it rains — on average — something like 70 days every year. If you work at a Roman hotel, and it’s a rainy week, and you are aware that it’s impossible to get a taxi in the rain, don’t you think you might provide this information when a guest specifically asks about it?

It dawns on me that perhaps this supremely talented duo thinks that my taxi trip this morning is an optional one. Maybe it’s just, you know, a passing fancy. A joyride. Skippable. “Oh well, no matter. I could use the brisk walk anyway!” But I have a 5,000-mile journey ahead of me. And the first step of that journey is getting to the frickin’ airport.

“So then,” I say. “What do you suggest? Am I supposed to walk to the airport?”

The receptionist gives me an “oh you’re still here?” look, then theatrically shrugs three times — the first, presumably, for the Father, the second for the Son, and the third for the Holy Spirit.

“Well, there is a taxi stand. It’s next to the Zara, across the piazza and to the left.” He gestures with an exquisitely unhelpful vagueness toward the front door.

The bellhop nods vigorously as if to say, “Yeah, yeah, taxi stand, yeah.”

“But if you can’t call a taxi, why should I expect that there will be one just sitting there, waiting for me?”

Trapped in an impenetrable cage of logic, our antagonist can only offer a big shrug in response. “Well, we only work with certain companies. But there are many companies. So…maybe…one of the other companies…has taxis there?” While he’s shooting for reassurance, it’s clear that he’s making this up as he goes, and he achieves exactly the opposite.

This guy may not have been the star of his hospitality school class, but I’ve gotta hand it to him: He’s the living embodiment of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also, you have to admire his chutzpah. I have seen a lot in my travels, but I have never, ever had a hotel flatly and unapologetically refuse to help me get a taxi.

One star. We’re talking bathroom-down-the-hall territory here. Peeling wallpaper. Though, to be fair, my room at this particular “four-star” hotel already has peeling wallpaper. (I predict a 90 percent chance of downgrades in the next edition of Rick Steves Rome.)

I know when I’ve been beat, so I sigh theatrically — the only meaningful response to the Roman Shrug — and try to get more precise directions to the (quite possibly hypothetical) taxi stand across the piazza. The bellhop halfheartedly offers to accompany me there, but at this point it will be a tremendous relief to simply cut ties entirely with the crack staff of the Grand Hotel Shrug. (Do they even give zero stars? Is that a thing?)

I trudge through brilliant sunshine across the piazza and make my way to Zara. The taxi stand has but one taxi. But one is all I need. Friendly Fabrizio hops out, loads my bag in the trunk, and rattles my fillings mounting a curb to catch a yellow light — getting me to Da Vinci Airport in record time. Grazie, Fabrizio!

As for the security line at the Rome airport…well, that’s another story, for another day.

This post is part of my “Jams Are Fun” series — designed for those who savor the Schadenfreude of hearing about good trips gone bad. Like that time I ran out of gas on Scotland’s remote north coast? Or that time I was stuck on a cruise ship during a massive storm in the North Sea? Or the time I became embroiled in a gelato feud in a small Italian village? Or, really, the entire experience of driving in Sicily.