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Rick Steves’ Travel Blog

Here you can browse through my blog posts prior to February 2022. Currently I'm sharing my travel experiences, candid opinions, and what's on my mind solely on my Facebook page. — Rick

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Warrior Pigeons and Savage Mushrooms

A few more “leftovers” from my recent trip:

While traveling on business — especially while filming — I have the time figured out very carefully and always have necessary reservations to keep things moving smoothly. In Denmark, leaving the Isle of Ærø early one morning as we began a demanding day of filming — and proud of my ability to read the sign — I directed us into a line for the ferry that said “reservation.” I felt smart…until all the other lines emptied into the ferry and I realized I put us in the “no reservations” line. We nearly didn’t get onto the boat.

A couple days later, I left Denmark with a 20-kroner coin in my pocket — worth about $4. It occurred to me that I couldn’t think of a nation that had a smaller “biggest coin” than the USA. (Europe’s 2 euro coin is worth over $3. Canada has a $2 coin.) What does it say about a nation that can’t get used to a coin worth more than 25 cents? We’ve tried 50-cent and one-dollar coins, but they just don’t work. (Now, don’t think this comment is anti-American…it’s an innocent question, neither pro- nor anti-USA.)

In Denmark, things are so costly that it seemed people consume more sparingly. The society is designed in a way that encourages people to consume less, chew slower, and just sip it. A glass of beer costs $10. A cup of coffee can cost $7 — and refills are unheard of. I think they know they could make more money if they embraced the “Big Gulp” track and started super-sizing things. But the collective decision is not based on what’s good for the economy. A Costco economy is just not Danish.

Susanna, who runs a gorgeous little B&B on the Isle of Ærø, hosts lots of travelers from both my guidebooks and my Scandinavia tours. She observed that nearly 100 percent of those with my guidebook are Democrats, while those taking my tours are half Democrats and half Republicans. Hmmmm.

While beer costs a fortune in Denmark, it’s half the price and twice as good in Belgium. Good beer has been a theme of mine in Belgium. Everywhere else, it seems you order what’s on tap for the best local brew. Here, the experts remind me that because there is such a vast selection of beloved specialty beers, there is not enough quantity consumed of any single brew to keep kegs from going old and stale. Therefore, the connoisseurs prefer their beer in the bottle.

Wandering around Brussels, I found a monument to “Au Pigeon Soldat WWI” at the end of St. Catherine’s Market. Imagine, honoring the men who cared for the pigeons that played an important role in a world war.

One evening I ordered wild mushrooms because of their evocative name in French: champignons sauvages.

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Lessons Learned in an Amsterdam Coffeeshop

I was just in the Netherlands researching the new edition of my guidebook on Amsterdam and getting up-to-date on the “coffeeshop” (i.e., marijuana) scene. Regardless of how you might hate or love marijuana and what you think about American laws, it’s fun to try to understand the Dutch system. Here’s what I learned just last week.

When tourists call an ambulance after smoking too much pot, Dutch medics just say, “Drink something sweet and walk it off.” Amsterdam, Europe’s counterculture mecca, thinks the concept of a “victimless crime” is a contradiction in terms. Drive under the influence of anything and you’re toast. Heroin and cocaine are strictly illegal in the Netherlands, and the police stringently enforce laws prohibiting their sale and use. But, while hard drugs are definitely out, marijuana causes about as much excitement as a bottle of beer.

Throughout the Netherlands, you’ll see “coffeeshops” — pubs selling marijuana, with display cases showing various joints or baggies for sale. The minimum age for purchase is 18, and coffeeshops can sell up to five grams of marijuana per person per day.

Because of laws prohibiting the advertising of marijuana, you need to take the initiative and ask to see the menu. In some places, there’s actually a button you must push and hold down to see the menu illuminated. And the menu looks like the inventory of a drug bust.

Americans with no reason for paranoia play hide and seek in an Amsterdam coffeeshop.
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The big news on the coffeeshop scene is the new nationwide smoking ban. These laws pertain to tobacco smoke, but not marijuana smoke. But the Dutch, like the rest of Europe, mix their marijuana with tobacco. It might seem strange to an American, but if a coffeeshop is busted…it’s busted for tobacco. Shops are mixing a kind of herbal tea as a tobacco substitute for joints. Coffeeshops with a few outdoor seats have a huge advantage, as their local customers can light up outside. And shops without the outdoor option are in for an extra challenge, as many local smokers would rather get their pot “to go” than smoke it without tobacco at their neighborhood coffeeshop.

Pre-rolled joints are now sold pure, with the non-tobacco “hamburger helper” herb mix, and with tobacco. The pure marijuana joints are much easier to buy now than just a year ago. Some shops sell individual joints (€2-5, or about $3-7.50). Others sell only small packs of three or four joints. Shops sell marijuana and hash in pre-rolled joints and in little baggies. Shops have loaner bongs and “smoke-free” inhalers, and dispense cigarette-rolling papers like toothpicks.

While Dutch law allows for shops to keep an inventory of up to 500 grams, the wholesale dimension is the famous “grey area” in the law. It’s just left out of the equation. Most shops get their inventory from the pot equivalent of home brewers or microbrewers. Shops with better “boutique suppliers” get the reputation for having better-quality weed (and regularly winning the annual Cannabis Cup). The tax authorities don’t want to see more than 500 grams (about a pound) on the books at the end of each accounting cycle, and shops lose their license when found with too much in stock.

A shop could retail a ton of pot with no problem, as long as it maintains that tiny stock and refills it as needed. Amsterdam’s mayor, understanding that this just has the city busy with small-time deliveries, has proposed doubling the allowable inventory level. The reason the inventory level is kept so small: They want shops to stay small and not become bases for exportation. Providing pot to neighboring countries would bring more international pressure on the Netherlands to crack down on its coffeeshop culture.

The other legal trend is that licenses are not being renewed in some neighborhoods as the city wants to maintain a certain smattering of shops and not have too big a concentration in any one area.

The Dutch are not necessarily pro-marijuana, but they do believe that a prohibition on marijuana would cause more problems than it solves. Statistics support the Dutch belief that their system works. They have fewer hard drug problems than other countries. And they believe America’s policy is based on fear, misinformation, and electoral politics, rather than rationality. And, after a 10-year track record, the Dutch have found that their drug policy does not result in more pot smoking. Statistically, Americans smoke twice as much pot as the Dutch (per capita).

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Tonight It’s Leftovers

I’m just wrapping up this trip. And my refrigerator is cluttered with still-edible blog scraps. So tonight, we’re having leftovers.

Just like Americans used to clap when a plane landed safely after a long flight (back in the 1970s), on two successive Turkish Air flights I noticed that Turks clap today as they land safely.

English drivers monitor their driving record carefully to maintain their favorable insurance rating. Moving violations are given various points (e.g., 3 points for speeding). When they get 12 points, Brits loose their license. Points stay on their record for four years. Everyone I talked to in Britain was nursing their record along with somewhere between 3 and 6 points.

 

London’s emerging Manhattan at Canary Wharf.
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Back when Britannia ruled the waves, London’s Canary Wharf was the world’s biggest shipping harbor. Then it became a run-down wasteland. Now it’s hosting my nomination for Europe’s most impressive urban development. London is shifting east. There’s a whole new Tube network evolving east of London. The 2012 Olympics will be the district’s coming-out party, as most of the events and venues will be there. Wandering around the Docklands (Tube: Canary Wharf) was like finding a slick, futuristic Manhattan with an English accent.

I found the English were really caught up in the American presidential campaign. They say this is in part because of the popularity of the TV series The West Wing,which has educated an entire generation of Brits on American politics, and is still very popular in the UK. When I told an English friend I thought American travel to England was down, he disagreed, saying, “Americans are still coming to the UK because as Americans are less popular in the world, England is a refuge…a place where Americans can tell if people are talking about them.”

When I meet backpackers, I quiz them on shoestring travel in 2008. Most find rooms via www.hostelworld.com, which lists and assesses the countless hostels that house people who don’t stay in hotels. And most are enjoying Europe on $80 a day.

I’ve never seen a car with a bumper sticker on it in Europe. Why are we so into bumper stickers, while sticking what you think about something on your car never even occurred to any European?

I don’t make a habit of responding to comments on this blog, but Ken’s question (responding to my previous entry), implying that I was contributing to the Russian Bear’s economy and image by choosing this “monumental” time to start our tour program there, deserves an explanation. Yes, we have just added a Best of the Baltics tour that includes St. Petersburg in Russia. And it happens to be our best-selling tour right now. (You can find out more about this new itinerary on our 2009 Tourswebsite.)

Like most people, I didn’t anticipate the Russian aggression against Georgia. But, to answer Ken’s concern, this breaking development makes me more enthusiastic about a tour including Russia, rather than less enthusiastic.

I believe many people, when confronted with an enemy, are predisposed to shut off communication, hunker down, and fight. And I believe that when you travel into “enemy territory,” you can make connections that help encourage understanding and dispel fears. (That’s why I took our film crew to Iran this spring.) I believe people-to-people communication (along with the costly-but-successful US battle of economic attrition and our hard military stance) helped us get through the Cold War with the USSR without it going hot.

We will always have enemies and people whose goals are at odds with ours. While interviewing Lord Alderdice, Member of Parliament and architect of the Irish peace, for my radio show (which will air on the weekend of September 6), I learned that the only alternative to needless wars (which ironically make us weaker on the international scene) is perpetual negotiation and compromise and creative waging of peace — which, I believe, will make us stronger.

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Beer Pilgrims in Belgium

I’m a little drunk after an evening of research in Belgium (so forgive the wordiness of this long-winded entry). A good percentage of the tourists you meet here are beer pilgrims — on a quest. For two nights in a row, I’ve shared a table or bar with American couples here specifically to enjoy the fine local beer.

The Belgian love of fine beer shows itself in mini-markets dominated by bottles of the finest monk-made brew.
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Tonight, at my favorite Brugge bar (‘t Brugs Beertje — a favorite here…famous and even beloved for stocking over 300 Belgian beers), I sat with Chris from San Diego. Chris actually brought a bottle of Speedway Stout by Alesmith all the way from San Diego to give to Daisy, who runs this local pub.

I was a bit down on Brugge (a.k.a. Bruges) after a long day of visiting every sight in town. The place is inundated with tourists, especially when a cruise ship is in. It seems nothing is possibly “untouristy.” I’ve been in Belgium, the Netherlands, Britain, Denmark, Turkey, and Iran lately. With the high price of things here (with our dollar down) and the predictability and homogeneity that comes with the new affluence in northern Europe, I was thinking how much more challenging and rewarding travel in places like Iran and Turkey is. It took staying out late and enjoying a couple of beers to jolt me back into a positive mindset.

After making the rounds of 12 or 14 restaurants last night, I wanted to actually eat in one high-end little place in my book — Bistro in den Wittenkop. It’s a cool, candlelit, jazzy place serving $30 plates (the going price for a nice dinner place these days).

I was mad at them last night for insisting that no one in Belgium served tap water in restaurants. Then I asked at all the other restaurants and learned it’s true. Germany, France, and the Netherlands have no problem serving free tap water. But in Belgium, it’s just not done. They claim all their water is “recycled,” and a few years ago a bunch of people got sick drinking tap water here, so — apparently — the government doesn’t allow restaurants to serve tap water.

I tracked down three places from reader feedback, and all were good. Two were characteristic pubs — focus on beer with cheap bar food (€7 spaghetti), allowing the poor American tourist to have a great night out for cheap (two great beers and a basic meal for $17).

The third place was a real winner. I just loved it. The local guide who was tagging along with me pointed to the medallion outside the door and said, “Yes, Hotelschool Koksude — one of the best cooking schools in Belgium…this place has got to be good.” My gut feeling was that this was a good value, but recognizing where the chef had studied…that was way beyond me. I wish I was more sophisticated about these things.

I had a fine meal, affirming my take on the place, and then popped over to the ‘t Brugs Beertje pub to check the intro material I had on Belgian beers. I sat at the bar planning on picking Daisy’s brain. But I was surrounded by beer experts — all happy to clue me in. Soon I had a chemistry lab of four different beers in front of me — each with its distinct beaker (a critical part of the beer culture here is that the glass must fit the beer). I had one called Zot (“the fool” — the last beer actually brewed in Brugge and considered one of Belgium’s best), Kriek (made bitter with cherry), an apple Lambic (what you order for your friend if they “don’t like beer”), and a complex and creamy Chimay brewed by Trappist monks. Licking my lips, I thought that Chimay would almost make celibacy livable.

As a beginner, I was extremely steep on the learning curve (and did my best to stay there as I walked home).

As I busily took notes, the gang on stools around me marveled at what a cool job I have. A couple stools down, a girl recognized me and said, “My mom loves you.” (I don’t know why, but I get a lot of that lately…lots of moms love me.)

Two stools beyond her was Astrid. She’s a guide at the local brewery that makes the Zot beer. (She wasn’t drinking Zot.) For years I’ve recommended that brewery tour in my book, raving about Inge (a guide there who I like and who’s a friend of mine). Today, Astrid rather than Inge was my guide. She had to mention, “There’s more than one guide here.” And I realized how it was wrong for me to favor one of seven guides just because I happened to know her. For six years, the other guides have had to hear American tourists ask, “Are you Inge?” I thanked Astrid for the nudge, apologized for the oversight, and assured her that in the new edition she won’t have to tell people she’s not Inge. Loosened up by a few Zots, my Belgian stool-mates explained to me how money-oriented the Dutch are. They said, “The Dutch have the worst beer, Heineken — but sell it all over the world. Belgians make far better beer, and it is barely exported. The first thing the Dutch ask you is about money (how much people make and how much things cost), which is taboo here in Belgium. Those Dutch could sell a fridge to an Eskimo.”

I’ve been in Belgium for 24 hours now. I’ve learned they “have nice weather 20 times a day.” And it occurs to me that old people speak English now. This is really a switch. I have been conditioned to find only young people able to clue me in on things; consequently, I get a young perspective. Now, enough years have gone by that I need to remember that the era of Europeans speaking English is long enough so that even the semi-retired people helping out in museums will likely speak English. They may be old, but they are from the modern age.

Speaking of the modern age, I just passed a threshold. Yesterday in Antwerp at the train station, I had 15 minutes between trains and wanted to get a SIM card for my cell phone to work in Belgium. I asked where the shop would be, and the information person directed me not to a shop but to a machine. I popped a ten-euro bill into the SIM card dispenser, and got my chip with a Belgian phone number and €7.50 of credit.

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Out of Istanbul

 

Istanbul is digging a tunnel from Europe to Asia under the Bosphorus.
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I’m done filming the last three TV shows of our new series (Denmark, Copenhagen, and Istanbul). Tomorrow my producer Simon flies home with the precious tapes. I just gave Simon my second bag (with my printer and extra wardrobe in it), getting me down to my usual light load. I’m heading for the airport — within a couple hours, I’ll be deep into Amsterdam guidebook research.

Driving along the coast in the taxi to the airport, I scan the Bosphorus. A hundred freighters fill the sea — a commotion of ships that reminds me of the force of the D-Day landings. Each is filled with cargo for thriving economies. Many are escorted by tough little tugs. One by one, they enter this maritime bottleneck, fueling this city of 15 million.

In the middle of the strait is a construction site — an industrial-strength pontoon island with heavy machinery digging down, and then out. Istanbul is well on its way to constructing its Bosphorus tunnel. I trace the city’s horizon, from the misty minarets spiking up from the old town, to a distant skyline of modern suburbs where tourists never venture — a forest of modern skyscrapers in league with Shanghai’s.

Yesterday we needed a better spot for our show’s opening shots. We had a reasonable one from the Galata Bridge, but it showed charming old fishermen and tour boats. Instead, I wanted to somehow capture the historic crossroads and contemporary might of this city.

Climbing with the camera crew to the rooftop of a toy store, we found a spot that showed off Istanbul as the churning metropolitan powerhouse where east meets west.
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Site selection had led to frustration. Mentally scanning all possible angles, it hit me: We needed a high-wide shot, almost an aerial, showing the freighter-filled Bosphorus just where it’s met by the Golden Horn inlet, with the teeming Galata Bridge, lumbering commuter ferries churning up the port, and a huge nondescript mosque in the foreground (we didn’t want to show the city’s icons — the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia — so early in the show).

We went to the spot I envisioned (above the “New Mosque,” near the famous Spice Market) and surveyed the zone. We spotted a restaurant with a shaded roof terrace, and went to check it out. It was perfect…except that as I spoke into the camera, there was no necessary sun on me. Next door, however, we noticed a toy company with offices that had a small open terrace. It was exactly what we needed. They welcomed us onto their roof and brought us tea. Grabbing a calm moment between the gusts, I gave my lines:

“Istanbul is one of the world’s great cities, period. For thousands of years, this point where East meets West has been the crossroads of civilizations. Few places on Earth have seen more history than this sprawling metropolis on the Bosphorus.”

Then we taxied to Ortaköy, a trendy café scene at the edge of town — too far away for tourists. It sits in the shadow of a Baroque mosque and one of the mighty modern bridges that cross the Bosphorus, lacing Asia and Europe together.

 

In Istanbul, where an awe-inspiring suspension bridges connects Europe and Asia, a modern skyline is emerging.
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I wanted to get more interaction on camera between me and the locals, and this was perfect — a gang of four charming young Turks joined me to pass around a hookah (big water pipe), sip chai, and play backgammon. Backgammon is the perfect way to create a jolly conviviality with new friends. At the neighboring table, we filmed two sisters — one secular and the other wearing a colorful but conservative Muslim head scarf — chatting as they passed the mouthpiece of their big water pipe. (I hoped this might make both a big water pipe and a scarved Muslim woman less scary to the more insular of my American viewers.)

Then, with the sun low and the chop of the Bosphorus carbonating the scene, I stepped out onto the ferry landing to film the closing shots of the show. The frilly mosque cut the harsh diagonal created by the mighty bridge reached for Asia. Just as a ship entered the frame, I looked into the lens and said:

“Like its bridge, Istanbul brings East and West together. With a complex weave of modern affluence, Western secularism, and traditional Muslim faith, it’s a dynamic and stimulating city, well worth a visit. Thanks for joining us. I’m Rick Steves. Until next time…keep on travelin’.”

Reaching the airport, I tip the taxi — selfishly holding back just enough local lira for a coffee. Enjoying a rare break with my iPod, I listen to Amy Winehouse (“They wanna make me go to Europe, I say yes…yes…yes”) while drifting through all the lines, immersed in the sea of people traveling. An old woman weeps as the security line slowly swallows up her son, with a reaching grandson in his arms. Water and shoes are okay to take through security here — but my watch and belt need to come off. With a thump, my passport is stamped.

In the terminal, I see the big green welcome of a Starbucks, and feel thankful that I no longer have to choose either Turkish coffee or Nescafé. I have 6.05 Turkish lire. A grande latte costs 6.25 (nearly $5). I beg. The Turkish barista says, “No problem.” I’m so happy — the frugal traveler is triumphant, leaving the country with exactly no local currency.

Nursing a good American latte, head buried in my Amsterdam book, I transcribe feedback notes into my work copy of the guidebook. Thinking back, I’m amazed how out of Turkey I already am — ready for the Netherlands.