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Rick Steves: Blog Gone Europe

I'm on the road in Spain, Italy, Slovenia, Montenegro and Bosnia — weaving my travel experiences into my business, and sharing what's on my mind. If you think it's inappropriate for a travel writer to stir up discussion on his blog with political observations and insights gained from traveling abroad, you may not want to read any further. — Rick

I just spent a great week in Rome. Our son, Andy, is there for a semester abroad, and Anne, Jackie, and I dropped in for a peek at his experience. Andy and his schoolmates — most in their third year at Notre Dame — are becoming citizens of the world. As twenty-year-olds would, they have a different focus than older travelers. But even so, their lives are being enriched.

With Andy and his mates, I enjoyed seeing Rome through a different lens. I learned Italian clubs welcome the American kids with hip-hop. Then, well into the wee hours, when they’re ready for the tourists to head home, they switch over to techno. Several of the students came for a semester and (apparently undeterred by the techno) decided to spend the rest of their school days here. Rather than spring break in Fort Lauderdale, they head for Sharm El Sheikh — I never imagined all that MTV hormone activity on the Red Sea in Egypt!

The kids muscle three days of travel fun out of each weekend, hopping a plane (Andy just landed a $30 round-trip ticket to Sofia, Bulgaria) or sleeping on a train for someplace new.

It’s fun for me to see the budget traveler and tour organizer showing itself in my son. Last month, he led a gang of six friends to Gimmelwald, borrowing ski gear from our friend Olle and sleeping on his floor (and working to keep the one higher-maintenance kid happy). As soon as school’s out, Andy and his gang have their sights set on hiring a small boat with a captain for a low-budget Aegean cruise. He explained to me how eight kids sharing the rental cost is no more expensive than settling into a cheap hotel in Athens.

These are mostly Midwestern kids whose worlds — because they’ve traveled — are suddenly broader. They are insisting on fresh garlic for their bruschetta, marveling at how Italians are cynical and fatalistic about their politics (bringing back Berlusconi), and drinking tap water to afford a better wine. The boys celebrate, as if winning the lottery (at first I wrote “landing a prizewinning tuna,” but that seems a little crass), when they come home with the phone number of an Italian girl.

Andy says the rigor of the class load here is light. But as a dad — paying the tuition — I’m thrilled with the education he’s getting (and a bit envious that I never had a study-abroad experience in my college days).

Posted by Rick Steves on February 29, 2008
Comments (44)

My friend Claudia (a favorite local Roman guide among our tour groups) is spending a month in Seattle. She’s enjoying an extensive — and romantic — private tour with one of our ace American guides. They came over to our house for dinner, and I enjoyed quizzing her on culture shock an Italian might experience in the USA.

Claudia’s thoughts reminded me that a good guide is a keen observer of cultures. While she enjoys America immensely, she does have a few challenges here. Here’s a review of Claudia’s comments (the best I can recall them) as she settled into American cultural soil this month:

“In America, the cityscape leaves me feeling isolated. Buildings of steel and cement have no stories to tell. When alone in a city with a long history (such as Rome), your imagination keeps you company.”

“We Italians relate to urban space. American cities seem to be grid after grid...without public squares. Piazzas are fundamental to Italian life. At the piazza, you can imagine life in the past. Yes, with piazzas filled with people, I feel connected...not lonely. Sure, you have lots of people — but they are always going someplace.” (Her boyfriend replied, “Yes, in America, people work.”)

Claudia is loving the food here. Her favorites include the BLT sandwich and “chili soup.” While we lack people-filled piazzas, Claudia is charmed by our breakfast culture and that we “meet for breakfast.” You would never see families “going out for breakfast” in Italy. And she had never encountered a waffle.

After eating Italian in Seattle, it seems clear to Claudia that the typical American notion of “Italian food” is heavily influenced by peasant village Sicilian food (tomato sauce, big meatballs, and spumoni ice cream). It was the poor people who left Italy in droves for America, and they took with them not Italy’s high cuisine, but their peasant cuisine.

After plenty of eating out in Seattle, Claudia and her boyfriend developed a game. She claims that the average number of ingredients in an American restaurant salad or pasta is 8 or 10, while in Italy the average salad or pasta has only 4 or 5 ingredients. And she can’t understand our heavily flavored dressings. “If your lettuce and tomato are good, why cover it up with a heavy dressing? We use only oil and vinegar.” When I tried to defend the fancy dishes as complex, she said, “Perhaps 'jumbled' is a better word.”

Claudia’s favorite souvenir so far: a five-pound block of cheddar cheese from Costco. A favorite experience: going to a bingo parlor and learning to use a dauber. A big surprise: Going to an American football game and finding that they stop play to make time for TV commercials. “That would be unthinkable in Europe.” Politically these days, Italy is cynical and fatalistic. (They are preparing to see Silvio Berlusconi — an openly corrupt right-winger who makes GWB seem meek and mild — return to power.) Just waiting in line to get into an Obama rally, Claudia felt America was a country awakening. Seeing families together at a political rally astounded her, as she’d never see that in Italy. Claudia’s father cannot understand the appeal of a guy he calls “Alabama” — a man with charisma and vision, but little experience.

To Claudia, her father is emblematic of Italy’s political doldrums: “In Italy, there’s no renewal. We have the same old faces, over and over again. So it doesn’t surprise me that Berlusconi is back.”

Posted by Rick Steves on February 26, 2008
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A few quick answers to questions and comments on my last posting (the Copenhagen script):

Yes, I find Danes to be extremely happy. I think part of it is their commitment to social security. While people don’t get too far ahead, no one seems stressed out about covering their basic needs. And, for the Danes, small really is beautiful.

We need to be careful not to show too much skin, but PBS is not the only shy network. While cable stations don’t use “public airwaves,” the big commercial networks and PBS do. Since their use is granted by the government, the current Christian Right-driven prudishness has resulted in an FCC that is deaf to any reason. Therefore, TV producers like me need to deal with a law that makes any station that shows a "secretory gland" liable for a $225,000 fine. In plain terms, according to the current law, because a nipple, penis, anus, and vagina all secrete things, they are dirty. I can say those words, but I cannot show those things. (Forgive my testiness here, but I have a real problem with fig leafs in the 21st century. Porn is porn and tastelessness has no place on the public airwaves. But there's nothing pornographic about great art or Danes enjoying the sun.)

Do I write out what my local guides will say? No. But I have a sense of the points I’d like them to cover (assuming they agree with them) and I rough those ideas out in the script. My challenge is to get them to be concise (necessary for TV) without stilting their generally wonderful delivery. My producer gets upset with me when I coach them. But I need them to address certain key points. That’s the challenge. Bottom line: A local voice gives the show a wonderful extra element, and many things are better said by locals than by me.

How long did it take to write the first two sentences? That boring kick-off for the show is just a placeholder for what we call the “tease.” I need to introduce myself and the show, but work really hard to find something really goofy and surprising in the open (like in a mud bath, tossing a caber, marching with a military band, or riding in a horse cart with a dozen Turkish kids). That makes a good tease.

The other day, I was autographing my guidebooks at a store (my first time doing this at a "big box" store). As usual, customers lined up with the guidebook and a post-it note saying who they want the autograph personalized to. It was a great crowd--lots of enthusiasm. Right off the bat, two customers threw me for a loop: One had a sticky note that said, "to Doreen and Jane." I signed the book "to Doreen and Jane," and she showed me a second book and said, "That book was for only Doreen. This one's for Jane." The next customer handed me a book with a sticky note that said, "To Dad and Jerry." I wrote on the book, "Happy travels! To Dad and Jerry. Rick Steves." The lady looked at the book and said, "No. Dad's name is Thomas." After that, communication improved.

Posted by Rick Steves on February 24, 2008
Comments (37)

As I've explained in recent blog entries, I'm working on a script for an upcoming TV show on Copenhagen. Now I’ve established a structure and fleshed out a good seven-page script. Dedicating an entire show to one great city without any side-trips lets me cover it thoroughly enough, and still have a script that’s not too long. Simon, my producer, hates a too-long script because the show has “no time to breathe,” and we invariably end up shooting things that never make it into the program.

Notice a few special considerations for TV shows: how difficult-to-cover material (ideas with nothing visual to illustrate it) is indicated by "OC" (on camera); how the voice of a telegenic young local guide is worked in; how fun hands-on and tongue-on bits are interspersed with all the history and architecture (more lively, playful, and tasty bits are still needed); how nouns are frontloaded in the descriptions so you know what you’re looking at as soon as possible (that’s important in TV writing); how I worked in my bit of Lutheran Reformation history; and how we’ll get a healthy dose of Scandinavian skin (assuming we have a hot day and everyone’s out in the park and at the harbor).

Note also that I've included some social policies (traffic-free boulevards, loaner bikes, squatter community with ethics and responsibility, government program to employ the hard-to-employ) in the hopes that our society can be inspired by theirs. And imagine the fun challenge to sort through all the admissions, lighting considerations, and weather problems...and still manage to cover this script in five or six days.

With the national tourist board's help (they seem ready to open any doors for us), a few good solid days of sunshine, and the help of my friend and local guide Christian, this will be a great show.

Here’s our rough script. (Your comments are welcome.) It works now, but you’d be amazed how different the final version will be — likely essentially the same structure, but with much tighter and more vivid writing:

Copenhagen [Feb 22 draft]

[1 OC, tease] Hi, I'm Rick Steves, back with more of the best of Europe. This time we’re in Copenhagen, Scandinavia's most affordable and most fun-loving capital.

[2 show open]

[3 open OC]

[4 montage] In Copenhagen, we'll flirt with the mermaid, stroll Europe's first great pedestrian boulevard, catch the changing of the guard, jam on a canal boat, take in some fine art, and party in Europe's queen of amusement parks.

[5 OC] The classic introduction to any Copenhagen visit is a canal boat ride. Since the word København means “merchants’ harbor,” it’s natural that many of the city’s most impressive buildings, young and old are visible from the water.

[6 cut-aways from boat/canal] Slotsholmen Island, the city’s 12th-century birthplace, is dominated by Christiansborg Palace and other royal and governmental buildings.

[7] The eye-catching red brick stock exchange was inspired by the Dutch Renaissance, like much of 17th-century Copenhagen. Built to promote the mercantile ambitions of Denmark, you could call it the World Trade Center of 1600s Scandinavia. The dragon-tail spire, with three crowns, shows the Danish aspiration to rule a united Scandinavia—or at least be its commercial capital.

[8] While the town preserves its rich heritage, it’s building new landmarks, too. The Royal Library, nicknamed the "Black Diamond," is a super-modern building made of shiny black granite. Copenhagen’s new opera house is bigger than it looks because much of it is underground. Its striking design is controversial. Completed in 2005 by Henning Larsen, it was a $400 million gift to the nation from an oil-shipping magnate.

[9 end of boat ride, close ups of mermaid statue] And the canal cruise highlight for many is the most-photographed citizen of Copenhagen, the Little Mermaid. In the much-loved Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, the little mermaid saves the life of a shipwrecked prince and sets off on a futile quest to win his love.

[10 national museum] For serious history, the National Museum traces this civilization from its ancient beginnings. Exhibits are laid out chronologically and described in English. Start on the ground floor with Bronze Age ¬artifacts from 3,500 years ago—including still-playable lur horns and horned helmets. Contrary to popular belief (and countless tourist shops), these helmets were not worn by the Vikings. It was their Bronze Age predecessors who wore them, for ceremonial purposes, a couple thousand years earlier.

[11] Highlights of the Iron Age collection include the 2,000-year-old Gundestrup Cauldron of art-textbook fame, lots of Viking stuff, and a bitchin’ collection of well-translated rune stones.

[11b, factoids about rune stones]

[12] The next floor takes you into modern times, with historic toys and the “slice-of-Danish-life (1600–2000) gallery,” where you’ll see everything from rifles and old bras to early jukeboxes. Capping off the collection is a stall that, until recently, was used for selling marijuana in the squatters’ community of Christiania.

[13] Rådhuspladsen, or City Hall Square, is the bustling heart of Copenhagen, dominated by the tower of the City Hall. Today, this square always seems to be hosting some lively community event. This was once Copenhagen’s fortified West End.

[14 OC] For 700 years, Copenhagen was contained within its walls. In the mid-1800s, 140,000 people were packed inside. The overcrowding led to hygiene problems. (A cholera outbreak killed 5,000.) It was clear: The walls needed to come down...and they did.

[15] Those formidable town walls survive today only in echoes—a circular series of roads and remnants of moats. What was Copenhagen’s medieval moat is now a string of people-friendly lakes and parks. You can still make out some of the zigzag pattern of the moats and ramparts in the greenbelt.

[17] From the City Hall Square, the Strøget--a series of lively streets and inviting squares that bunny-hop through the old town--leads to the harbor, a 15-minute walk away. When this was established in 1962, a traffic-free street was a novel and very experimental notion—Europe’s first major pedestrian boulevard. Though merchants were initially skeptical, the Strøget has become the model for people zones throughout the world.

[18] As you wander down this street, remember that the commercial focus of a historic street like the Strøget drives up the land value, which generally trashes the charm and tears down the old buildings. Look above the modern window displays and street-level advertising to discover bits of 19th-century character that still survive. While the Strøget has become hamburgerized, historic bits and attractive pieces of old Copenhagen are just off this commercial cancan.

[19] My Danish friend and local tour guide, Christian Donatzky, is joining us so we’ll get off the beaten track and better understand what we’re seeing.

[20 soundbite Christian] Copenhagen was fortified around large mansions with expansive courtyards. As the population grew, the walls constricted the city’s physical size. These courtyards were gradually filled with higgledy-piggledy secondary buildings. Today throughout the old center, you can step off a busy pedestrian mall and back in time into these characteristic half-timbered time-warps. Replace the parked car with a tired horse, replace the bikes with a line of outhouses, and you are in 19th-century Copenhagen. If you see an open door, you’re welcome to discreetly wander in and look around.

[21] For a traditional Danish lunch, we're getting open-face sandwiches. While these tasty beauties are expensive in restaurants, prices are easier to swallow at street-corner smørrebrød shops. And there's no more Danish way to picnic.

[22 soundbite Christian] Tradition calls for three sandwich courses. First we start with the herring, then the meat, and then cheese.

[22a] And it’s best washed down with a Carlsberg beer. Let's try a skål. You raise your glass not higher than eye level, you get short but meaningful eye contact, then you say "Skål!" [or eat in restaurant: Café Nytorv—smørrebrød sampler.]

[23] The twin squares of Gammeltorv and Nytorv—Old Square and New Square—mark the old town center. The Fountain of Charity, the oldest fountain in Copenhagen, has been providing drinking water to locals since the early 1600s. It's named for the figure of Charity on top...

[24 soundbite Christian] Featuring a pregnant woman squirting water from her breasts next to a boy urinating, this was just too much for people of the Victorian age. They corked both figures and raised the statue to what they hoped would be out of view.

[25] But, these days, the Danes are less modest. A revealing side-trip through the King's Garden at the Rosenborg Castle on a sunny afternoon makes that delightfully clear. We're here in July, when sun-loving Danes are busy maximizing their short summer...and minimizing their tan lines. [beauty sequence with as much skin as PBS will allow]

[16 statue of king—out of place physically but okay here without context] Okay, let’s get back on a historic track. You need to remember only one character in Copenhagen’s history: Christian IV. Ruling from 1588 to 1648, he was Denmark’s Renaissance king and a royal party animal.

[26] And in the early 1600s Christian built Rosenborg Castle as his summer—and favorite--residence. Today it houses the Danish crown jewels and 500 years of royal knickknacks.

[27, some soundbites or VO by Christian] Here in the Audience Room, all eyes were on Christian IV. Check this guy out—earring and fashionable braid, a hard drinker, hard lover, energetic statesman, and warrior king. Christian IV was dynamism in the flesh, wearing a toga: a true Renaissance guy. During his reign, the size of Copenhagen doubled.

[28] The study was small...and easy to heat. Kings did a lot of corresponding. We know a lot about Christian because 3,000 of his handwritten letters survive. The painting shows eight-year-old Christian—after his father died, but still too young to rule. A portrait of his mother hangs above the boy, and opposite is a portrait of Christian in his prime.

[29] In the bedroom, paintings show the king as an old man...and as a dead man. In the case are the clothes he wore when wounded in battle. Riddled with shrapnel, he lost an eye. No problem for the warrior king with a knack for heroic publicity stunts: He had the shrapnel bits taken out of his eye and forehead made into earrings. Christian lived to be 70 and fathered 25 children (with two wives and three mistresses).

[30] The Royal Danish Treasury is in the basement. Christian IV’s coronation crown, with seven pounds of gold and precious stones, is considered by some to be the finest Renaissance crown in Europe. Its six tallest gables radiate symbolism: there’s justice (the sword and scales), fortitude (a woman on a lion with a sword), and charity (a woman nursing—meaning the king will love God and his people as a mother loves her child). The pelican, which famously pecks its own flesh to feed its children, symbolizes God sacrificing his son, just as the king would make great sacrifices for his people. The shields of various Danish provinces remind the king that he’s surrounded by his realms.

[31] The crown jewels were made in 1840 of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and pearls from earlier royal jewelry. The saber shows emblems of the realm’s 19 provinces. The sumptuous pendant features a 19-carat diamond cut in the 58-facet “brilliant” style for maximum reflection. Imagine these on the dance floor. The painting shows the coronation of Christian VIII at Frederiksborg Chapel in 1840. The crown jewels are still worn by the queen on special occasions. [consider the erotic jewels for fun and come exquisite extremely close-up handiwork]

[] While the Royal Danish Treasury is strictly out of bounds, visiting shoppers find their treasure at the Royal Danish Porcelain shop back on Stroget.

[factoids, demonstrate making, shopping insights with Christian and local staff]

[32] A few steps off Stroget stands the Neoclassical and very Lutheran Cathedral of Our Lady. The Reformation Memorial facing it celebrates Denmark’s break from the Roman Catholic Church back in 1536. We see great Danish reformers protesting from their pulpits and the king, after being influenced by Luther in his German travels (and realizing the advantages of being the head of his own state church), convincing the town council to become Lutheran. Because of 1536, there’s no Mary in this Cathedral of Our Lady.

[33] The cathedral’s facade is a Greek temple. You can see why Golden Age Copenhagen (early 1800s) fancied itself a Nordic Athens. John the Baptist stands where you’d expect to see Greek gods. He invites you in...to the New Testament.

[34] Enter the cathedral—a world of Neoclassical serenity. What feels like a pagan temple now houses Christianity. The nave is lined by the 12 apostles, all clad in Roman togas—master¬pieces by the great Danish sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen. They lead to a statue of the risen Christ, standing where the statue of Caesar would have been. Rather than wearing an imperial toga, Jesus wears his burial shroud and says, “Come to me.”

[35 cool place, but delete?] For more swoon-worthy art by this great Danish Neoclassical sculptor, pop into Copenhagen’s Thorvaldsen’s Museum. The museum tells the story and shows the monumental work of Thorvaldsen. He worked in the early 19th century, was considered Canova’s equal among Neoclassical sculptors. He spent 40 years in Rome before being lured home to Copenhagen with the promise to showcase his work in this fine museum—which opened in the revolutionary year of 1848 as Denmark’s first public art gallery.

[36 detail, with soundbite from Christian]

[37] Sailors show off less sculpted bodies at Copenhagen’s "new harbor," or Nyhavn. Nyhavn—formerly a sleazy sailors' quarter—is now a trendy scene, with locals lounging comfortably around its canal. Glamorous old sailboats fill the harbor. Any historic all-wood sloop is welcome to moor here, temporarily joining the fleet that makes up Copenhagen's ever-changing boat show...a scene of modern-day Vikings gone soft.

[38] Wander the quay, enjoying the frat-party parade of tattoos. Hotter weather reveals more tattoos. Celtic and Nordic mythological designs are in...as is bodybuilding, by the looks of things.

[fun details about tattoo culture? Or visit the last of the Nyhavn dives]

[39] The place thrives—with the cheap beer drinkers dockside and the richer, older ones looking on from comfier cafés.

[40 harborfront scenes, Rick and Christian buying a beer at kiosk, soundbites] While all this public beer-drinking is off-putting to some visitors, there’s no more beer consumption here than in the US; it’s just out in public. Many young Danes can’t afford to drink highly taxed alcohol in our bars, so they “picnic drink” their beers in squares and along canals, spending a quarter of the bar price for a bottle from a nearby kiosk. Consider grabbing a cheap cold beer yourself and joining the scene.

[41] And, for a cheap meal on the streets, grab a Pølse – the local hot dog. The famous Danish hot dog, sold in pølsevogne (or sausage wagons) throughout the city, is another typically Danish institution that has resisted the onslaught of our global, Styrofoam-packaged, fast-food culture. Study the photo menu for variations.

[42] These are fast, cheap, tasty, and, like their American cousins, almost worthless nutritionally. Even so, what the locals call the “dead man’s finger” is the dog Danish kids love to bite. My favorite: a Ristet (or grilled) Hotdog “med det hele” (with the works).

[43 Christian soundbite] Traditionally, guys stop here after getting drunk for a hot dog and chocolate milk on the way home—that’s why the stands stay open until wee hours. By hanging around a pølsevogn, you can study this institution. Denmark’s “cold feet cafés” are a form of social care: People who have difficulty finding jobs are licensed to run these ¬wiener-mobiles. As they gain seniority, they are promoted to work at more central locations. Danes like to gather here for munchies and pølsesnak—the local slang for empty chatter (literally, “sausage talk”).

[44 OC] The Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Scandinavia's top art gallery, is an impressive example of all that beer money put to good use. The Carlsberg family—of brewery fame—is an important patron of the arts in Denmark.

[45] To lure garden-loving Danes, the museum mixes sculpture with Mediterranean plants in its famous Wintergarden. The classical statues and lush trees transport visitors into a scene straight out of some exotic Roman myth.

[46] You'll find an especially intoxicating Egyptian, Greek, and Etruscan collection...some of the best paintings of the Danish Golden Age, from the early 19th century...and lots of French art, including a heady exhibit of 19th-century French Impressionists—the biggest in Northern Europe.

[47—or feature the Danish school—Christian explains?] The work of Paul Gauguin is particularly well-represented here...he married a Danish woman but later moved to the South Pacific. This Danish scene is by Gauguin the European. And this more primitive scene is by Gauguin, the Tahitian. [fade to black, end of Christian]

[48] Copenhagen is a thriving commercial center, and the economy is greased by a fine public-transit system. Their newest metro line is state of the art, tunneling under water to connect major neighborhoods.

[49] And the city has an innovative free loaner bike program that complements its underground. Leave it to the progressive Danes. This is one of 2,000 free loaner bikes. They're parked all over town. Copenhagen is virtually flat, so peddling is easy. And the city's excellent network of bike lanes makes this a fun way to take in the sights. When you're done, stick it in a rack—there are over 100 of these scattered through the old center—lock it up, and out pops your deposit coin.

[50] I’m keeping my bike to explore the charming district of Christianshavn. Christianshavn—a neighborhood named after the great Danish king Christian IV—is a never-a-dull-moment hodgepodge. Here, chic and artsy meet hippie and laid-back.

[51, show bakery in action?] Not surprisingly, locals appreciate a good Danish. Lagkagehuset is everybody’s favorite bakery in Christianshavn. The golden pretzel sign hanging over the door or windows is the Danes’ age-old symbol for a bakery. Danish pastries, called wiener¬brød (Vienna bread) in Denmark, are named for the Viennese bakers who brought the art of pastry-making to Denmark, where the Danes say they perfected it.

[52] The centerpiece of Christianshavn is Our Savior’s Church. The church’s bright Baroque interior (1696), with its pipe organ supported by the royal elephants, is worth a look. But the highlight is a chance to climb the unique spiral spire for great views of the city and Christianshavn below.

[53 fun climbing the exterior tower, pointing out landmarks]

[54] Copenhagen’s planned port, Christianshavn was vital to Danish power in the 17th and 18th centuries. Christianshavn remained Copenhagen’s commercial center until the 1920s, when a modern harbor was built. Suddenly, the Christianshavn economy collapsed and it became a slum. Cheap prices attracted artsy types, giving it its bohemian flavor today.

[55 soundbites from local guide?] In 1971, several hundred squatters took over a no-longer-used military camp and created a commune called Christiania. City officials allowed this because, back then, no one cared about the land. Eventually, the surrounding neighborhood had become gentrified making this area some of priciest real estate in town. Suddenly developers are pushing to take back the land from squatters, and the very existence of Christiania is threatened.

[56] Depending on your perspective, this is a shanty town of dogs, dirt, soft drugs, and dazed people...or a do-your-own-thing haven of peace and freedom.

[57] Residents believe that they can have their liberty, and also act responsibly. While soft drugs are tolerated, hard drugs are out. Guns are not allowed. No one owns land, they occupy it as long as they need it. The community’s flag—with its three orange balls might symbolize the O’s in Love Love Love. They pride themselves on their progressive attitudes toward the environment and their community take on childcare.

[58 tour environmentally smart housing, child care, bike factory, and an eatery with sound bites from guide]

[59] The free spirit of the Danes is nothing new. Copenhagen’s “Fight for Freedom” museum tells the story of how when Hitler invaded, the Danish underground resisted heroically.

[60] Germany invaded and occupied neutral Denmark in 1940. As more and more Danish factories were used to bolster the German war machine, Danish resistance grew.

[61] The small underground movement quickly swelled to a secret army of 45,000. Clandestine radio transmitters stayed in contact with London. And Danish ingenuity was evident in the numerous creative acts of sabotage. Train tracks were blown up. Microfilm was hidden in this hollowed-out coin. This homemade torpedo was addressed to a German war ship. And this crate of beer bottles packed a very powerful punch.

[62 OC at Amalienborg] As any visitor sees, Danes cherish their freedom, prosperity, and distinct way of life. In our generation, many Danes are cautious about joining a united Europe. For example, while Denmark belongs to the European Union, the Danes have voted to maintain their kroner currency—they only coins I’ve seen lately with a hole in them--rather than adopt the euro. And they also maintain their royal family.

[63, changing of guard, palace exterior, cut-aways of family photos and memorabilia in little Amalienborg museum?] At the Amalienborg Palace, home of Denmark's Queen, tourists assemble to see the daily changing of the guard. Each of the Scandinavian countries has a royal family. While they're quite popular and have avoided the scandals that plague other European royalty, the Nordic kings and queens are only figureheads. And though preserving many imperial traditions, the modern Kingdom of Denmark is ruled by a constitution and parliament.

[64, day, night or twilight?] Tivoli is Europe's most famous amusement park. Throughout the summer, Tivoli Gardens offers a daily and nightly festival. Tivoli is 20 acres, 100,000 lanterns, and countless ice cream cones of fun. You pay one admission price and find yourself lost in a Hans Christian Andersen wonderland of rides, restaurants, games, marching bands, roulette wheels, and funny mirrors.

[65] Right off the bat, pick up a map and sort through the schedule of free events. There's something happening every half hour. Free concerts, pantomime theater, ballet, acrobats, puppets, and other shows pop up all over the park, and a well-organized visitor can enjoy an exciting evening of entertainment without spending a single krone beyond the entry fee.

[66] This granddaddy of amusement parks recently celebrated its 150th birthday. Tivoli doesn’t try to be Disney. It’s wonderfully and happily Danish. I find it worth the admission just to see Danes—young and old—at play.

[67 Tivoli fireworks, only Saturday night, Close OC] Thanks for joining us. I hope you’ve enjoyed our look at Copenhagen. I’m Rick Steves. Until next time, keep on travelin'.

Posted by Rick Steves on February 22, 2008
Comments (29)

Cameron Hewitt, co-author of my Croatia & Slovenia guidebook, has shared a tour guide's insight that may complement what you’ve heard on the news about Kosovo’s new independence. Here it is:

You might have heard that Kosovo declared its independence from Serbia. Is this good news or bad news? It's too early to tell.

If their independence takes hold, Kosovo will become the seventh country to emerge from the break-up of Yugoslavia. About nine out of every ten people in Kosovo are ethnically Albanian (and generally Muslim). Fewer than one in ten is Serb (a Slavic cousin of the Croats, Slovenes, and Bosniaks, and generally Orthodox Christian).

Why do the Serbs care what happens to Kosovo, with its tiny Serb population? It's partly because they fear for the safety of the Serbs living in Kosovo, but it's mostly because many of the important historic, cultural, and religious sites of the Serb people are in Kosovo. To put it into context, a Serb once told me, "Kosovo is the Mecca and the Medina of the Serb people."

For most of the 20th century, Kosovo was considered part of Serbia, the largest constituent unit of Yugoslavia. But because Kosovo is such a political hot potato, the communist dictator Tito set it up as a semi-independent "autonomous province" within Serbia. That compromise didn't last long.

The Yugoslav wars of the 1990s actually started in Kosovo in the 1980s, when the Albanians there began to push for more independence from Serbia. Serb strongman Slobodan Miloševic went to Kosovo to support the Serb minority, and made provocative statements implying Serb aggression toward Kosovo. This started a chain reaction that led to Serbia's annexation of Kosovo, Slovenia and Croatia declaring independence from Yugoslavia, and a decade of fighting in the region.

After the Balkan Wars and the ethnic cleansing in Kosovo, it became a UN protectorate--still nominally part of Serbia, but for all practical purposes separate and self-governing (under the watchful eye of the UN).

The plan was always for Kosovo to eventually declare independence. But on Sunday, the provisional government unilaterally declared its independence without going through proper UN channels. (It had grown impatient that its UN bid for independence was being stalled by traditional Serb ally Russia.) So far, the Republic of Kosovo has been recognized by the US and most major European powers, but not officially endorsed by the UN. Key opponents include Russia, China, and Spain (which sees unsettling parallels between Kosovo and its own Basque region).

So, what now?

Pessimists fear that Kosovo's declaration of independence will upset the delicate postwar balance of the Balkans; that militant Serbs will flock to Kosovo to fight to keep it as part of Serbia; and that it might even provoke the Serb half of Bosnia-Herzegovina to secede from the Bosniak/Croat half. Last summer a young Serb who lives in rural Bosnia-Herzegovina--well-educated, articulate, and Western-looking--told me, "Ninety percent of the people in this town have never been to Kosovo. But ninety percent of us will take up arms and fight to the death to defend it." He acknowledged that he was one of those people. I shudder to think that he might be heading to Kosovo as we speak.

Optimists are holding their breath to see how the Serbs will fight Kosovo independence. The new Kosovo government has very carefully stated it will protect the rights of its minorities (read: Serbs), which is a good sign. (It was Croatia's failure to respect its Serb population that partly sparked the war there.) And Serbia has said it will not take military action (but, then, much of the fighting of the 1990s was not "officially endorsed" by the government, either).

If Kosovo independence works, it will be the final chapter of a long and ugly Yugoslav succession, and everyone there can finally get on with their lives.

Stay tuned. And if you're a religious person, now is the time to pray for peace in Kosovo.

Posted by Rick Steves on February 18, 2008
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On my last entry, I gave you the parts for my Copenhagen TV script puzzle. I enjoyed your comments and suggestions.

Someone asked why I’m re-doing a show we already did. I produced about 50 shows in the 1990s with a different production company. I’ve kept about a dozen of these in circulation, including an episode on Copenhagen with a side-trip to Ærø. Why update? Things have changed hugely in Denmark in the last 10 years, I like the way we make TV better now, the new generation of TV is high-definition and widescreen, and the original show rushed Copenhagen to include the lovely island of Ærø...plenty of reasons to bring out two shiny new shows on Denmark: one on Copenhagen only and the other on the Danish countryside (including Ærø).

Here’s the structure I decided on for the Copenhagen script. I’m flying to Rome today and over Hudson Bay I’ll be pounding on my laptop to come up with a Copenhagen script. I’ll post it in a couple of days. Skål!

Copenhagen TV script structure to be shot in July 2008:

Canal Tour – lively open cruising past glorious Copenhagen cityscape

City lay of the land, talk about moats and walls, expansion

Little Mermaid, Han Christian Andersen statue, obligatory mention, short

National Museum, for real history — sweep from Viking age

Town Hall Square, start town walk for city orientation

Introduce Christian, local guide who’ll be my side kick for half the show

Strøget, pedestrian boulevard, use as spine to cover Danish cultural insights

Smørrebrød, open-face sandwiches, have Christian demonstrate the ritual, fun eating

Rosenborg Castle, park with naked Danes sunbathing, tour palace which introduces Christian V the greatest king, see sumptuous crown jewels

Cathedral Neoclassical statuary, a bridge from castle to Thorvaldsen's fine statues

Thorvaldsen Museum, Neoclassical statues

Nyhavn, Beer and pølse, fun with people on harbor, beer on the street culture and the “dead man’s finger” hotdogs with social commentary (lingo, employment scheme for disabled, etc.)

Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek art gallery (city’s best gallery, transition: paid for by beer money), fade to black (say goodbye to local guide, end of day)

Slick new Metro, new day, modern city, commerce

Free loaner bikes, pick one up to explore colorful Christianshavn

Christianshavn, quaint old Copenhagen

Pastry — the “Danish,” stop by beloved bakery in Christianshavn

Vor Frelsers church, climb striking spiral spire for view including Christiania

Christiania squatter community, with local guide, talk about the hippie ideals of this experimental community

Nazi Resistance museum, free spirit showed itself vs. Hitler too

Amalienborg, changing of guard, today treasures its freedom...no euro?

Tivoli, colorful amusement park, close with midnight fireworks

And then I say, "Thanks for joining us. I'm Rick Steves. Until next time...keep on travelin'."

Posted by Rick Steves on February 16, 2008
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The task facing me this month is finishing up scripts for this year’s TV production. (I need to get on the ball to enable my producer Simon to work with the tourist boards to get permissions and dates set for all the visits.) We’ll shoot three shows in April and three shows in August. These will be combined with the shows we filmed last year to create our new 13-episode public television series, debuting this fall.

To write a script, I take the guidebook chapter, distill it down to only the material that would be good on TV, and then fiddle with the elements to try to come up with a good, balanced script: start lively, cover the big-picture context early, break heavy museum visits with light food and fun activities, determine when and where to work in local experts, cover the clichés but go deeper on elements of substance, avoid redundancy, and finish on a fun up note.

As I was working on establishing a structure for my Copenhagen script, it occurred to me that others might enjoy seeing the process...and even playing script-designer. So, here are the elements I think would make a good half-hour show on Copenhagen. If you’ve got nothing better to do, you can build your own show (and even submit your structure or suggestions on this blog). In three days or so, I’ll show you the structure I plan to use for our new Copenhagen show (and perhaps the rough script, if I can get that far). Here are the pieces:

The Little Mermaid
Town Hall Square
Nyhavn, the old sailors’ port
Amalienborg, changing of guard
Nazi Resistance museum
Christiania (squatter town)
Free loaner bikes
Rosenborg Castle and crown jewels
Hans Christian Andersen statue
Canal Tour
City lay of the land
Smørrebrød, open-face sandwiches
Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek art museum
Tivoli amusement park
Strøget, pedestrian main boulevard
Christianshavn
Beer and pølse, local hot dogs
Vor Frelser church
Slick new Metro
Cathedral with Neoclassical statuary
National Museum
Thorvaldsen Museum, Neoclassical statues
New “Black Diamond” library
B&B booking center
Pastry – the “Danish”

Posted by Rick Steves on February 14, 2008
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I was at the Los Angeles Times Travel Show this weekend. I speak there every year. It’s my favorite...probably the best in the country. I found this year's show particularly enjoyable.

Speaking in front of a thousand travelers, trying to project my voice above the Tahitian drums and the hula shows, I had the fun of making the point that the vast hall around us was filled not with information, but with advertising. At least, smart consumers should assume as much.

The show, packed with travelers who paid $10 each to get in, was a shrill festival of brochures and catalogs with mariachi happiness bouncing off the walls and expertly eye-catching women promoting their booths by prancing around like peacocks in heat.

One thing I complimented the show staff on was how the editors of the LA Times travel section rather than the paper’s advertising department put on the event, distinguishing it from many other big travel shows. Still, I was interviewed by a film crew after one of my talks and found they were not talking about travel...but making an ad to promote next year’s show.

The show reminded me how anyone sorting through information to help make travel decisions needs to understand how just about everything you encounter is promotional — pushing someone’s business interests.

I spend 120 days a year in Europe researching my guidebooks, and last year I kept thinking how a major part of my work is simply picking up promotional fliers and talking to people paid to promote. As a consumer advocate, I need to sift through everything and come up with what is truly worth the vacation time and money of my traveling readers. The pickings are often very slim.

In Europe — where tourism is a leading employer and source of foreign revenue — local tourist boards are pushing whatever has seen the big investment in the previous year. Whether I’m researching my guidebooks or making TV shows, local promoters of tourism are eager to slip on a dirndl, meet me at the airport, and steer me to what they want promoted. I get the feeling that most “travel journalists” are easy prey in this regard. Arriving in a new city, I often find a gift from the tourist board waiting on my hotel bed — a binder filled with advertisements. Sorting through it, there’s almost nothing worth keeping.

In Switzerland, the tourist board is particularly aggressive and strong. They support our TV production work generously with guides and hotels when we ask. It’s tricky to explain that rather than the new casino and the new chic restaurants, I find other slices of the culture more interesting to film: the riverside hike, the subsidized bike-rental program (that gives work to “hard-to-employ” locals), and the heroin-maintenance clinic (to show Americans a creative and pragmatic Swiss approach to drug policy).

Typical bus tour companies also struggle with their economic needs corrupting the product they offer. For instance, the standard whirlwind itinerary makes time in Amsterdam for diamond polishing, but not for Van Gogh. Why? It’s money. The awesome Van Gogh Museum costs $15 per person ($750 for a busload of 50 tourists), while the diamond-polishing exhibition is free for the tour company and offers 20 percent kickbacks on diamonds purchased. No wonder tour guides promote the notion, “If you haven’t bought a diamond in Amsterdam, you haven’t really experienced the city.”

One of my least favorite writing gigs is when the European Tourism Commission hires me to write an article about what’s new in Europe, and they require that each country in their group is worked into the article. That’s understandable, as Malta and Iceland pay just like France and Germany to be a part of this promotional agency. But it’s hard to write a good article when the driving force is treating all member nations equally rather than what’s new and of value to traveling readers.

The Web has become a primary source of information for many travelers. I love the Web as a tool, but it’s tough for consumers to know what's real information and what's slick promotional material. When assessing hotels, for instance, what looks like information is often a carefully crafted sales pitch. This is a major pitfall for naive travelers.

That’s why I believe, even in this Internet age, an ethically written guidebook remains the best source of information for the independent traveler. A good guidebook gives you hard opinions rather than paid ads. Actually, the contract my publisher and I have comes with a little clause (nicknamed for an author of a B&B guidebook who made lots of money charging for listings, and then showcasing them as guidebook entries rather than ads) prohibiting me from accepting any payment for any listing in my books...something I wouldn’t do anyway.

To sum up: Travelers — like any consumers — need to understand who paid for the information that’s trying to shape their decision-making, and why. Twelve million Americans travel in Europe every year. The bestselling guidebook to any European destination published in the USA (which, last year, was my Italy guidebook) didn’t even sell 100,000. There’s a lot of fish left to catch...and even this blog has a promotional agenda: to get every traveler to bite.

Let the traveler beware. (And happy travels!)

Posted by Rick Steves on February 11, 2008
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I am a miserable linguist. I got into the University of Washington (which required two years of high school foreign language) thanks to an intensive one-month French class during the summer at Edmonds Community College — probably the worst month of my life (five hours a day, earning my two years of high school credit).

The eight ways the French pronounce “uh,” combined with the realization that you need to understand English grammar (which I don’t) before you can learn the structure of a foreign language, broke my spirit. But I struggle on, being the travel guy who can’t speak the languages.

Being a monoglot actually gives me a kind of credibility. If I spoke all the languages and told would-be travelers, “Sure, you can handle it...no problem!”, it would ring a little unrealistic. Like most of my students and readers, I can barely put a sentence together anywhere east or south of England. But I hurdle that language barrier and manage to research and write our guidebooks, lead our tours, produce our TV shows, and simply enjoy Europe on vacation just fine.

Here’s a two-minute audio clip from our radio producer demonstrating how I heroically deal with my language handicap. I thought you might enjoy me struggling with Sabine's last name: Leteinturier.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Posted by Rick Steves on February 06, 2008
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Jon wondered about my Balinese experience, so I dug this up.

This is the only thing I ever wrote with the help of a mushroom omelet. Back in the 1980s, I wouldn’t have admitted I had a hallucinogenic helper. It’s fun to share it now, exactly how I wrote it — exuberantly over-the-top — as a twentysomething travel writer.

Bali is great. And an evening super-sensitized in that tropical Hindu world is magical. Recalling just three hours in the village of Ubud, the "Balinese Florence," I realized that some of the greatest moments in travel are yours when you become a mute poet. Just observe. Put yourself in a personal tiki hut, let your jaw hang loose, permanently awestruck, and open your eyes and ears so wide they touch.

I sat under my thatch writing by flickering light while the smoke from my quiet mosquito coil did a cobra dance. Here are some thoughts straight from my journal recalling just one evening on the road in Asia.

*****

Lanterns painted a rutted dirt road through the new darkness. Thin, unloved street dogs played with my shadow, which walked before me...as if leading me to the candlelit temple.

Batik smiles ushered me to a bamboo chair where I joined 30 people seething like barnacle tongues to the churning beat of a 20-piece gamelan orchestra.

A gamelan is a kind of xylophone, usually accompanied by a busy Balinese bamboo band of flutes, strings, and percussion instruments. To the casual tourist who gives it no more than an ear-glance, it is a jumble of jungle noise worth a photo and a few minutes, but nothing more. But if you look into the musicians’ eyes, you see they are dancing as one, high above that dirt floor, and making music in tongues that’s as pure as Mozart. Children hide attentively on the laps of the performers, and all are lost in the same musical beat.

The temple was a peacock of happy candles; its warm outline against a starry black backdrop empowered the music below.

Through the temple’s door danced a goddess-gowned girl. Just another sorry sight on the street, now her Krishna eyes dug deep into mine. She quivered like entranced butterfly wings. Then, suddenly, there were four dancers waving like sea leaves; their eyes, fingers, and the gamelan mallets are puppets from paradise tied to the same god’s strings.

They throb with the gong and flute, like fish Eskimo-kissing, intensifying to the speeding gamelan churning like a train in heaven. Orion reaches for the temple, and I find myself breathing heavily in this seductive tide pool.

Down the lane is a volleyball court, the local equivalent of “Chuck E. Cheese,” where 25 kids sit cross-legged in fake Levis under a TV on an eight-foot pole with a mini-thatch. “TV Jakarta” is beaming in an Indonesian Donny and Marie. “Marie” has big heart-shaped lips under jet-black hair, and “Donny,” every bit as dreamy, plays an organ with a rhythm box. The kids eat peanuts, clap after each song as if the performers were actually in their midst, and wonder why I’m sitting with them.

Ten o’clock is late in this town. As I wander home past huts with well-combed bangs and sleeping dogs, I enjoy smiles and eye contact with the few locals who are still out. Couples sit on rails enjoying cheap talk, genuinely focusing on the present as all that matters.

Back home in my simple, dimly lit bathroom, a 10-inch lizard startles me. Then I'm literally driven out of the place by a ferocious three-inch beetle. I fall asleep wondering what creatures will crawl over me in tonight’s darkness. Dogs are barking Morse code for miles around, and soon the roosters will tell me the sun has risen and another day has begun.

*****

This kind of experience can be yours. Find a culture like India’s or Bali’s where if a drop of menstrual blood touches a man’s head, he’s sterile, and a child’s first toenail cutting is a sacred and magical ritual.

Posted by Rick Steves on February 02, 2008
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