Rick Steves' Europe

Antwerp: A Plunge into Funky, Home-Grown Urbanity

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 23 May 2013 00:00:00 PST

Belgium falls through the cracks. It's a little country, not big enough for people to find on a map sometimes. But it's one of Europe's great secrets. While its capital, Brussels, has become overly international, the port city to the north — Antwerp — has more of a local identity. It's an honest, what-you-see-is-what-you-get place, perhaps because it's in the Dutch-speaking part of Belgium called Flanders.

This city of about 500,000 offers visitors an eclectic array of sightseeing — and it's easy to navigate since most locals speak English. If you have just one day (or less), you'll need to be selective, choosing between art, churches, history, fashion, and so on.

Just arriving can be a thrill. I can't think of a city with a more visit-worthy train station than Antwerp. The building stands like a temple to the Industrial Age. Built at the turn of the 20th century, it's giddy with steel and glass — such as its arrival hall with a triumphal arch crowned by a grand clock.

Imagine the age: Just a generation earlier, people thought you might die if you traveled at more than 30 miles per hour. For those living in the brave new world of steam engines, journeys that previously took days could be done in hours. Of course, today's trains can be five-times faster; that's why the Belgians tunneled under the old station so that bullet trains can zip in and out with only a quick stop.

Stepping out of the station, you'll find some modern buildings due to Hitler's rocket attacks during World War II — more V-2s fell on Antwerp than on London. Fortunately, most of the Old Town survived. As it has for centuries, the Cathedral of Our Lady dominates the city center; its 400-foot-tall spire is the highest in the Low Countries. The interior is packed with fine artwork, including four paintings by local-boy-made-good Peter Paul Rubens.

Next door, the Grote Markt, Antwerp's main square, is dominated by the looming tower of the cathedral at one end and the stately City Hall at the other. On a facade dating from Antwerp's Golden Age (16th century), the City Hall flies flags from dozens of countries — representing the importance of international trade to the city.

One of the city's top sights is the Rubens House. This former home of artist Peter Paul Rubens does a fine job of introducing visitors both to the artist’s works — several of which are displayed here — and to his lifestyle. There are other places in Antwerp to see Rubens' paintings, but this exhibit offers you a chance to also learn about how he lived and the methods he employed — interesting even to people who think Peter Paul Rubens is the guy who plays Pee-wee Herman.

Another type of house is found in Antwerp's Red Light District, which is north of the Old Town and near the port. This is Belgium's biggest hub of legalized prostitution and one of the most business-like I've seen in Europe. About four city blocks are pedestrianized and feel almost like a shopping mall. I did notice that, while Antwerp has a slick red light neighborhood, it has almost no sleaze elsewhere in town. In a sense, they cleaned the city up by sweeping it all into a small pile. This area is not as sketchy as it might seem — the mayor actually encourages visitors to stroll here — but it's also not entirely safe either; it's best to visit during the day.

The nearby Museum aan de Stroom, or MAS for short, is housed in a 210-foot-tall mod tower, encased in hand-cut red stone, and speckled with silver hands (the symbol of Antwerp). Designed to resemble the spiraling stacks of goods in an old warehouse, its maritime, ethnographic, and folklore collections confirm Antwerp's reputation as a crossroads for the world. Take the bank of escalators to the top for a free, stunning view of the city.

Fashionistas love window-shopping in the Sint-Andries district south of the Old Town. Antwerp’s status as a fashion mecca is a relatively recent development. In 1988, six students from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts' fashion department traveled to a London show, where they got a lot of attention. Each one opened a shop in Sint-Andries, and now it’s one of Europe’s top fashion zones.

As you explore, you'll discover that many streets have their own personalities. For example, Schuttershofstraat and Hopland are where you'll find famous-label international couture, while Kammenstraat is better for trendy, retro-hipster fashions.

If funky urbanity is your thing, Antwerp is one of Europe’s most intriguing cities. Compared to stodgy, bureaucratic Brussels, Antwerp's colorful persona respects its storied past even as it embraces its bright future.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

Eating Well in Europe

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 16 May 2013 00:00:00 PST

One of the great joys of European travel is eating. If you let yourself tune in to the experience, a meal is a travel thrill in itself — as inspiring as visiting an art gallery and as stimulating as a good massage.

I have only a few basic rules for eating my way through Europe. Find places outside the tourist zones. Go for local specialties. Eat seasonally. Most of all, eat fearlessly, trying things you've never had in places you've never been.

Begin by looking for welcoming spots filled with locals. On a recent visit to France, I sat amid a crush of happy French diners in an atmospheric, wood-timbered restaurant. Glasses filled the room like crystal flowers; portraits of long-forgotten city fathers kept an eye on us from the walls.

I ordered top end, my travel partner took the basic menu, and as usual, we shared. To start, we treated ourselves to a dozen juicy escargots. I gently pried a snail out of its shell and popped it into my mouth. The taste was so striking that I found myself requesting silence at the table. It was just my mouth and the garlic-drenched snails, all alone on the dance floor of my palate.

Especially in countries with noteworthy cuisines, I recommend an occasional gourmet splurge like my meal in France. But all across Europe there are eating options to fit every budget and taste. And now that most interiors in Europe are essentially smoke-free, you can breathe while you eat.

Most restaurants have a well-priced menu of the day — offering a choice of appetizer, entrée, and dessert at a fixed amount. These menus aren't just for tourists; savvy local diners are quick to order the daily special. If you aren't sure what to choose, take a minute before you order to observe what's being served on the tables around you.

I like to stretch my budget (and conserve my waistline) by sharing dishes. Don't be intimidated by a menu listing multiple courses — you're not expected to order one of each. A good rule of thumb is for each person to order any two courses. For example, two people can order and share one appetizer, one pasta dish, one fish dish, and one dessert — or choose two appetizers and two pastas — or whatever combination appeals.

Wherever you dine, you'll eat better if you understand the basic menu terms. A phrase book can help you get trota (trout) instead of tripa (innards) in Italy, and ostras (oysters) instead of orejas (pigs' ears) in Spain.

Adapt to the culture you're visiting. In most European restaurants, dining is not rushed, and the table is yours for the entire evening. The waiter or waitress is there to serve you, but will remain in the background. Out of courtesy, you won't be presented with the bill until you ask for it.

Many sit-down restaurants take the mystery out of tipping by including a service charge in the bill. Study the menu for words like "service compris" or "servizio incluso." An additional tip is not expected in these cases, but if you liked the service, simply round up the bill a bit (if your check is €18.80, leave €20). This varies from country to country, so get advice from locals.

If you're looking for a quick bite, you have plenty of options — every country in Europe has its own cheap and delicious street food. In Greece try the corner souvlaki stand. For fast food Istanbul style, grab a fishwich at the waterfront, fresh from the guys who caught it. Order up a razor-thin crepe from a street vendor in Paris, and then choose a filling to make it savory or sweet.

If you'd rather take a seat while you eat, there are lots of casual bars and bistros. Eating at a corner cafe costs only a little more than lunch at a fast-food joint, but you'll be chowing down on local fare that’s typical of the region.

One of the best examples of this is in Spain. Every town tempts you with tapas bars, where you belly up to the bar and just point at appetizers you'd like to try. In Denmark, I love the traditional open-faced sandwiches, with simple toppings elegantly perched on a slice of bread. In Bavaria, there's nothing more local than a knuckle of pork, spiral-cut radishes, sauerkraut, and a huge pretzel.

When I'm enjoying a delicious meal, I always appreciate hearing the quiet murmurs of other diners around me. It lets me know that I'm among likeminded souls who treat eating as bliss. Communing with others over good food, served in a setting respectful of tradition and place, is cultural tourism at its tastiest.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

A Cheap Day Out in London

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Fri, 10 May 2013 00:00:00 PST

It was the final day of a two-month trip to Europe. I was in London, and with all of my work behind me, I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted. So I decided to test my five free London audio tours in a citywide blitz spanning two neighborhoods, one church, and two museums. It ended up being a very entertaining and cheap day, proving that you don't have to spend a lot of money to have a fulfilling experience in this pricey city.

In the morning, I bought a one-day off-peak subway and bus pass (a great deal at about $10) and caught the Tube from my hotel in South Kensington to Westminster. Time management was key: My last stop, the British Library, closed at 6 p.m., but my off-peak transit pass wouldn't let me start until 9:30 a.m.

My walk commenced on Westminster Bridge, featuring fantastic views of the London Eye ferris wheel and Big Ben. As I strolled with earbuds in, the constant churn of London — tourists, professionals, big tour buses, taxis, and so on — was strangely more apparent. I noticed what a great percentage of people on the streets were also lost in their 'buds.

Whitehall — London's Pennsylvania Avenue — was as grand as ever. Stretching from Parliament Square to Trafalgar Square, Whitehall is lined with illustrious buildings and evocative monuments. Security was almost military, as guards with machine guns at the ready paced in front of the gate at #10 Downing Street, home of Britain's prime minister. Wandering past war memorials like the Cenotaph, honoring those who died in World Wars I and II, I noticed that the monuments of London have never looked so good, having been spiffed up for the Olympics.

I ended my walk at Trafalgar Square, London's central meeting point, highlighted by the world's tallest Corinthian column, topped with a statue of Admiral Horatio Nelson. From here, I strolled along the Strand. Once a high-class riverside promenade, back before the Thames River was tamed with retaining walls, this busy boulevard is now home to theaters and shops.

About 15 minutes later, I reached St. Clement Danes Church, the starting point for my City of London walk. The one-square-mile area known as The City once comprised the original walled town. These days, it's consumed by the financial district and Christopher Wren churches.

After the Great Fire of 1666 devastated this area, King Charles II turned to Wren to rebuild 51 churches in The City (not all survive). Of these, Wren's greatest creation was St. Paul's Cathedral. Even today, you can see the view that Wren intended — the majestic 365-foot-high dome of St. Paul's hovering above the hazy rooftops, surrounded by the thin spires of his lesser churches.

After touring St. Paul's, I ate lunch at the Counting House, an elegant bank building converted into a fancy pub and popular with neighborhood professionals. Though not the most penny-pinching place for a midday meal ($20 with beer), I confirmed my feeling that, while there are plenty of cheap-and-cheery modern eateries in London, this is a great spot for a memorable lunch.

From The City, I hopped into a cab to the British Museum, thinking this would save me time. I was wrong. Traffic was slow, and the meter reached 12 pounds (about $15). Lesson learned: I could have gotten there faster with my transit pass.

The British Museum is hands-down my favorite museum in London. This chronicle of Western civilization houses Egyptian mummies, Assyrian lions, and a large hall featuring the best parts of the frieze that once ran around the exterior of Athens' Parthenon.

From the museum, I caught a bus to the British Library. Here, in just two rooms, are the literary treasures of Western civilization, including the Magna Carta, da Vinci's notebook, Shakespeare's First Folio, and Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Perhaps the best thing about the British Museum and the British Library — they're free (though donations are appreciated).

Sights closed, brain drained, I hopped the Tube and zipped back to South Kensington for dinner at the Anglesea Arms. This place is everything a British pub should be: musty paintings, old-timers, beautiful people backlit, dogs wearing Union Jack vests, a long line of tempting beer-tap handles, and flower boxes spilling color around picnic tables — perfect for warm summer evenings. For under $25, I got a delightful meal with beer — a great value when you consider the high cost of dining in London and the joy of immersing yourself in a neighborhood pub with quality food.

It was an exhilarating day — and not unreasonable for a first-timer to tackle. And it was affordable: The audio tours and museums were free, St. Paul's cost $20, transportation $25, and my meals $45. The total: about $90 for a very full day in London.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow him on Facebook.

Finding a Good Hotel in Europe

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Fri, 03 May 2013 00:00:00 PST

A major expense of any European vacation is the cost of accommodations. No matter where you go — whether a bustling city like Madrid or a mid-sized destination like Sevilla — the neighborhood and hotel you choose help shape your experience. But you don't have to spend a fortune to find a nice, comfortable place to rest your head every night.

While many travelers opt for modern chains or big, business-class hotels, I find that these tend to build a wall between you and the people and culture you traveled so far to experience. Spending less usually gives you a richer experience. I often hear about people coming back from their vacations with bruised and battered pocketbooks, complaining about their $450-a-night room in London. True, you can spend that much, but I never have. That's three days' accommodations for me.

The most important factor in selecting a hotel — assuming it's in my price range — is location. I prefer small-scale hotels in a cozy neighborhood. For example, in Paris, the area around my favorite market street, Rue Cler, is a pedestrian-friendly bit of village Paris and a 10-minute walk from the Eiffel Tower. For me, this is part of the fun of travel: enjoying a warm and friendly hotel in a charming, walkable area.

Many countries, such as France and Britain, have helpful rating systems. In a well-chosen one-star place, budget travelers can sleep well and safely in basic rooms. Two-star hotels offer a great balance of price and comfort — still basic but with good beds, private bathrooms, and often small but appreciated elevators. Three-star hotels can be a decent value, but you'll pay for extras like a lounge and room service.

Besides the extra amenities they offer, larger hotels are usually pricier than small hotels or B&Bs, partly because of taxes. Hoteliers who pay high taxes pass their costs on to you. They usually charge the most in summer, particularly at coastal resort hotels, which may impose a mandatory charge for half-pension (lunch or dinner at their restaurant). However, there are exceptions: In places like Scandinavia, Brussels, and Berlin, fancy business hotels can be a bargain in summer (and year-round on weekends), when their business customers stay away.

To find a good hotel, a little research goes a long way. I recommend starting with a guidebook that has a travel philosophy that matches your own. But while guidebooks remain dedicated to providing detailed hotel reviews and their best advice on the sleeping scene, the power is increasingly shifting to travelers themselves and websites like TripAdvisor.

TripAdvisor features an impressive collection of reviews from travelers. But anyone can submit feedback, and my hunch is that a significant percentage of them are by friends or enemies of the place being reviewed. Although the site works hard to vet reviews, biased ones can make their way through. So while it can be helpful to look over TripAdvisor's hotel listings, I wouldn't rely on them blindly.

The rise of TripAdvisor goes hand-in-hand with the new power of booking services like Booking.com, Venere.com, Hotels.com, and Expedia.com, which pay to have a link on TripAdvisor. That way, when people search hotels on TripAdvisor, they simply click through to reserve — not directly with the hotel, but through the booking agency. The hotel must then pay a commission, a cost that gets passed on to travelers.

Once you've identified a promising option, I recommend reserving a room through the hotel's own website. You'll get more complete information, and you may save money by booking direct. Also, given the economic issues in Europe, hoteliers are sometimes willing and eager to make a deal. I'd suggest emailing several hotels to ask for their best price, then comparing the results.

There are other ways to negotiate a cheaper rate. It's worth asking about a discount if you're traveling off-season, if you plan to stay at least three nights, or if you pay in cash (saving the hotelier the credit-card company's fee). Many hotels offer family deals, which means that parents with young children can get a room with an extra child's bed or a discount for larger rooms.

With a little legwork, you'll find that Europe is filled with well-located, characteristic hotels at an affordable price. Though they may be smaller and lack certain comforts like fluffy robes and room service, they offer a warmth and intimacy that you won't find in larger establishments. And that's something you can't put a price on.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

A Classical Way to See Europe

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 00:00:00 PST

I've always taught what I loved — and I've always loved music. I spent my high school years as a piano teacher. I'd start out my students with boogies and pop songs, and eventually get them turned on to Bach and Beethoven.

In 1980, a truck dropped off 2,500 copies of my first guidebook — Europe Through the Back Door. During that year's Christmas recital, some parents sat on boxes of travel books while their kids played carols, boogies, and Bach. By the next Christmas, I had let my piano students go. From that point on, I would be teaching European culture in print rather than on the keyboard.

But I haven't abandoned my Bach and Beethoven. Just as travel broadens your perspectives, so can music. Mixing the two on a trip to Europe brings an extra dimension to your travels. And four European cities — Salzburg, Leipzig, Bergen, and Vienna — really rock when it comes to sights honoring local composers and their music.

Salzburg is forever smiling to the tunes of Mozart. You'll get a double-dose of Wolfgang Amadeus here — the Mozart Birthplace and the Mozart Residence. The house where Mozart was born is also where he composed most of his boy-genius works. Today it's the most popular Mozart sight in town. You'll peruse three floors of rooms with exhibits displaying paintings, letters, personal items, and lots of facsimiles, all attempting to bring life to the Mozart story.

The Mozart Residence — Mozart's second home (his family moved here when he was 17) — is less interesting than the house where he was born, but it's also roomier, less crowded, and holds a piano that Mozart actually owned. It also comes with an informative audioguide and a 30-minute narrated slideshow. If you're looking for a deal, one combo-ticket will get you into both places.

For those traveling to Germany, there are two sights in Leipzig that pay homage to another musical genius — Johann Sebastian Bach. The historic St. Thomas Church is where Bach ran the boys' choir from 1723 until 1750. While here, Bach was remarkably prolific — a time, he even composed a new cantata every week. In front of the altar is the composer's tomb.

Across the little square from St. Thomas is the small, pricey, but very well-presented Bach Museum. You'll see the actual organ console where Bach played his favorite instrument, an iron chest that came from his household, and original manuscripts. With the help of the excellent audioguide, this museum is an absolute delight for music lovers.

Far to the north near the Norwegian port of Bergen is Edvard Grieg's home, Troldhaugen. Norway's greatest composer spent his last 22 summers here, soaking up inspirational fjord beauty and composing many of his greatest works. You can visit his house on your own, but it's more enjoyable if you take the included 20-minute tour. In summer, try to also attend the lunchtime piano concert. And don't miss his little studio near the fjord; in this tiny space Grieg created some huge works.

Vienna is to classical music what Athens is to sculpture, Florence to painting, and Milwaukee to beer. You can make pilgrimages to the homes (now mostly small museums) of many composers: Schubert, Brahms, Haydn, Beethoven, or Mozart. But I find these places inconveniently located and generally underwhelming.

My favorite musical setting in Vienna is not a single home but an entire "House of Music." The Haus der Musik is a high-tech experience that celebrates the hometown specialty. The museum, spread over five floors and well-described in English, is unique for its effective use of interactive touch-screen computers and headphones to explore the physics of sound.

The museum also features fine audiovisual exhibits on each of the famous local heroes (Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Strauss, and Mahler). Before leaving, pick up a virtual baton to conduct the Vienna Philharmonic. Each time you screw up, the musicians put their instruments down and ridicule you; make it through the piece, and you'll get a rousing round of applause.

Even if powdered wigs and conductor's batons aren't your thing, take time to weave travel and classical music together. You'll find that in Europe, and all over the world, music is an international language — it cuts across borders and joins people together.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

European Train Travel: Fast and Fun

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 00:00:00 PST

Great European train stations stir my wanderlust. In Munich, about to catch a train, I stand under the station's towering steel and glass rooftop and study the big schedule board. It lists a dozen departures. Every few minutes, the letters and numbers on each line change as, one by one, cities and departure times work their way to the top and then disappear. I'm surrounded by Europeans on the move — businessmen in tight neckties, giddy teenagers, families, porters pushing handcarts.

For many tourists, the pleasure of journeying along Europe's well-organized rail system really is as good as the destination. Train travel isn't as flexible as driving, but it's less stressful. I'd rather watch the landscape instead of fixing my eyes on the road. On a train, I can forget about parking hassles, confusing road signs, bathroom stops, or Italian drivers.

A train traveler's biggest pre-trip decision is whether to get a railpass, point-to-point tickets, or a mix of both. It pays to do the math by adding up the approximate ticket costs for your itinerary. European rail fares are based primarily on distance traveled, so if you'll be on the train for just short trips, point-to-point tickets are usually a better match.

The more miles you'll cover on the train, however, the more likely it is that a railpass makes sense. The Eurailpass is the most common multi-country pass, and many countries sell railpasses good for use in their country only. Most railpasses give you a certain number of train travel days to use within a longer "window" of time (for example, any ten days within a two-month period). You can sprinkle these travel days throughout your trip (ideally to cover long rides), and pay out of pocket for short trips.

Online schedule sites can help with planning. Each country's national rail company has its own website, but the site operated by Deutsche Bahn, the German rail company, has schedules for virtually all of Europe and can be the best place to start (www.bahn.com).

Riding the rails is much the same all over Europe. Ticket windows handle your ticket and reservation needs; or you can usually buy a ticket at a travel agency to spare yourself the long lines. Be sure, when necessary, that your ticket or railpass is validated before boarding. Many express trains require an advance reservation; it's smart to ask.

Wondering whether to splurge for first class? Nearly every train has both first- and second-class cars — each going at precisely the same speed. First class is cushier, generally with three seats across and fewer passengers. Second class comes with four seats across and more people. But today's trains are so comfortable that the new second class feels as slick as the old first class — at a third to half the cost. I don't bother to pay the premium for first class except during very busy times, such as holiday weekends.

When you're on the platform, look for the posted train composition charts that show the order of cars (first class, second class, and dining car) for your train. With this chart, you'll know where to wait on the platform so that when the train stops, you're already positioned to step right onto your car.

Nowadays, the old clackity-clackity rhythm of the rails has been replaced by the nearly silent swoosh of bullet trains. These super-fast trains are making European rail travel more time-efficient than ever.

Take the speedy Eurostar train, which barrels between Paris and London in about 2.5 hours via the Chunnel. Within minutes of departure, the train is zipping at 180 mph across the French countryside. The train travels so fast that, where the tracks parallel the highway, the cars you pass seem to be standing still.

Sleeping while rolling down the tracks can save time and money. With night trains, you can easily have dinner in Paris, sleep on the train, and have breakfast in Venice, Munich, or Madrid. If a train ride is six hours or longer, it's worth considering whether a flight (try www.kayak.com for low-cost flight options) or an overnight train is more convenient.

Sleeping cars require a paid reservation beyond the regular ticket price, but for less than the cost of a simple hotel bed, you get your own bunk with clean linen and an attendant who monitors who comes and goes as you sleep. What you miss in scenery is more than made up for by the entire extra day you gain for sightseeing.

Trains remain the quintessentially European way to go, and are the best option for romantics. Across the Continent, train stations are being remodeled into gleaming transportation hubs. Whether old or new, each station is a temple of travel. Just pick a platform...and explore Europe.

(Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow him on Facebook.)

Pubs, Parades, and St. Patrick's Day in Dublin

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 00:00:00 PST

Several years ago, I served as the Grand Marshal for Seattle's St. Patrick's Day parade. That year, the visiting dignitary was Noel Dempsey, then the Irish Minister for Communications. Noel explained to me that each St. Patrick's Day, the demand for Irish dignitaries empties their country of politicians as they fan out to festivals around the world, bringing Irish cheer to all corners of the globe.

Some years I celebrate vicariously through my son Andy, who is usually at the heart of the action in Dublin. There he's joined by about a hundred foreign-exchange students, as he leads them on a three-day tour of the festivities through his student-based tour company (www.wsaeurope.com). Like Carnevale in Venice, Easter in Rome, and Oktoberfest in Munich, St. Patrick's Day in Dublin is the type of experience where lifelong memories are created.

Dublin's St. Patrick's Day festivities are highlighted by a giant parade. All along the two-mile parade route, revelers sport an assortment of goofy hats and festive face paint. Delicate little sprigs of live shamrock clover are pinned to lapels and hats everywhere.

The parade features a quirky conveyor belt of visual and audio stimuli, including school marching bands, giant puppets spidering along the street on long poles, crosier-staff-bearing St. Patricks in flowing green robes anointing the crowds with mock blessings, and colorful floats blowing Lawrence Welk bubbles and swirls of cloudlike foam into the air. The general public is invited to participate in the parade; this is the only day of the year when anyone can be an honorary Irishman.

The revelry continues long after the parade ends. Bands on outdoor stages churn out lively rhythms laced with fiddle, banjo, and flute. Irish dance troupes featuring lasses in short skirts perform a precision swirl of set dancing as locals break into their own ragged impromptu dance steps, locking elbows and kicking up their heels.

With all of the beer-drinking and celebrating going on, it's easy to forget the origins of St. Patrick's Day. March 17 commemorates the day St. Patrick died. A Roman boy enslaved by the Irish, Patrick helped Christianize Ireland peacefully in the fifth century. Legend has it that Patrick used the shamrock, with its three petals on one stem, to explain the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) while converting a pagan Irish king.

As is typical of any day in Ireland — not just St. Paddy's — the real action is in the pubs. Pub is short for public house — an extended living room where, if you don't mind the stickiness, you can feel the pulse of Ireland.

In Dublin, my favorite pub neighborhood is Temple Bar, south of the river. While rundown through most of the 20th century, this revitalized and now-trendy center feels like the social heart of Dublin. It's fun to people-watch here. The girls are wrapped up like party favors, and the guys look like they're on the way home from a hurling match. Good places to hit include Gogarty's Pub, the Palace Bar, and Porterhouse, featuring Dublin's best selection of microbrews.

But the king of beers is still Guinness. This is where Arthur Guinness began brewing his famous stout in 1759, and to this day, his brewery still occupies several city blocks along the river. A huge exhibit fills the old fermentation plant like a shrine (www.guinness-storehouse.com). A tall beer-glass-shaped atrium — 14 million pints big — soars past several floors of exhibitions to the Gravity Bar, which gives visitors a commanding 360-degree view of Dublin. Despite competition from other brews, Guinness still rules: When you say "a pint, please" in a Dublin pub, you'll get Guinness.

If you think you don't like Guinness, try it in Ireland. It doesn't travel well and is better in its homeland. Murphy's is a very good Guinness-like stout, but a bit smoother and milder. For a cold, refreshing, basic, American-style beer, ask for a lager, such as Harp. Ale drinkers swear by Smithwick's. Caffrey's is a satisfying cross between stout and ale. Try the draft cider (sweet or dry)...carefully.

In Ireland good beer comes with good music. For a toe-tapping introduction to "trad," as traditional music is called, I recommend the Traditional Irish Musical Pub Crawl in Dublin. The group visits three pubs while witty musician-guides explain and demonstrate their instruments, offering travelers an educational foundation for Irish music appreciation (and generally a nice Guinness buzz). After this tour, a night at an Irish pub listening to trad will hold much more meaning.

The atmosphere in an Irish pub is something you won't find elsewhere. When the beer, the music, and the convivial spirit of the crowd all come together just right, you feel you know what it is to be Irish — even if it's not St. Patrick's Day.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

Seeking Roots in Europe's Emigration Museums

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 00:00:00 PST

When traveling to Europe, I sometimes crank up the voice of my grandmother telling stories of her journey from Norway to Canada. The boat ride was miserable. The only thing she could keep down was beer — she became a teetotaler the day she saw the Statue of Liberty. Having entered North America like a bad traveler — not speaking the language, packing too much luggage and not enough money — she navigated the immigrants' road to Edmonton, Alberta, where she eventually met her Norwegian husband.

Today, I zoom across the same ocean that took her weeks to cross. I enjoy my glimpses of the Old World, while remembering that millions of Europeans left it behind forever in search of the New World. For those who want to take a closer look at this exodus, visit Europe's emigration museums, which chronicle the flood of departures in the 19th and 20th centuries.

If you have Norwegian roots like I do, a trip to the southern Norway port of Stavanger should include the Norwegian Emigration Center . This fine facility is in an old warehouse near the wharf where the first boats sailed with emigrants to "Amerika" in 1825.

Its exhibits trace the story of the Norwegian diaspora — why they left, their journey, and what life was like in the New World. You'll learn how the Norwegian population boom in the early to mid-19th century led to a critical shortage of basic resources, forcing 677,000 Norwegians to leave during the steamship era (1865-1915).

At the museum's study center, the staff can help answer genealogy questions. You don't need to be in Stavanger to use this service, but searching for your roots in the place where your ancestors took their last steps on Norwegian soil has a certain romantic appeal.

For Swedish Americans, the House of Emigrants in Vaxjo — located in Sweden's Glass Country — offers powerful insights into the lives of Swedes who sought refuge in North America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

As economic woes wracked Sweden (even a potato famine hit at one point), the country was caught up in an "American Fever." Nearly 1.3 million Swedes endured long voyages and culture shock to find prosperity and freedom in the "promised land."

The museum's life-size Snusgatan exhibit re-creates the main street in a Swedish American neighborhood (like in Chicago's "Swede Town" or Minnesota's Twin Cities). Other displays cover Swedish lifestyles, religion, women's experiences, and prominent Swedish-Americans, including Charles Lindbergh, and the second man on the moon, Buzz Aldrin. Don't miss the display about the Titanic, which take pains to point out that — after Americans — Swedes were the second-largest group to perish on that ill-fated vessel. On view are a few items that went to the bottom of the Atlantic with one of those Swedes.

In Germany, Hamburg's BallinStadt Emigration Museum depicts European emigration from the mid-19th century through World War II. Especially after 1890, many emigrants from the Austro-Hungarian and Russian empires went first to Hamburg, by train or even on foot, before crossing the ocean. The museum is in dormitory buildings that once housed sick emigrants until they were healthy enough to leave.

Ireland offers two good choices. The Ulster American Folk Park near Omagh (about 70 miles west of Belfast) is a combination museum and folk park commemorating the many Scots-Irish who left their homeland, most settling in the southern US. In Cobh, near Cork on the island's south coast, travelers can view exhibits on the potato famine, Irish emigration, and Australia-bound prison ships at the Cobh Heritage Centre. There's even a statue of the first immigrant to arrive at Ellis Island. Those with Irish roots can use the Heritage Centre’s genealogy search (small fee for 30 minutes of research assistance, email ahead to genealogy@cobhheritage.com).

Belgium's major port of Antwerp is putting the finishing touches on a new emigration museum that will open in September — the Red Star Line Museum. Between 1873 and 1935, this shipping line brought some two million emigrants to New York — including Jews escaping eastern European pogroms. The exhibits will trace the history of the line and its passengers, display artifacts from the emigrants, and show evocative artwork depicting passengers poignantly waiting for a steamship to whisk them off to the New World.

Visiting an emigration museum can make you a happier American, as well as a citizen of the world. While I have kept my grandparents' religion and eat fish balls and goat cheese, I can barely say hello in Norwegian. I'm proud of my heritage — and I'm proud to be an American. The physical hardship, uncertainty, and risks my grandparents endured became the foundation for a big, happy, typically American family.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

Impressions of Italy

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 00:00:00 PST

I'm lucky that my work allows me to spend a good part of the year in Italy. Here, lifelong travel memories are like low-hanging fruit: They're yours to harvest. Even after 30 years, Italy continues to pelt me with experiences and delight me with new memories and insights.

In Florence, the epicenter of the Renaissance, civic pride and the Florentine celebration of good living enliven today's city streets. The best place to get a sense of the rustic old town is in the Oltrarno, where artisans still ply the traditional trades of their forebears. As I strolled through this crusty neighborhood, an artisan drew me into his shop as if inviting me on a journey. Under a single dangling light bulb, he hammered gold leaf into a dingy halo, breathing life back into a faded saint that was originally crafted by a neighbor of his from five centuries ago.

For dinner, I found a great restaurant called Antica Trattoria da Tito that helped me put my finger on why Italian restaurants in the US just can't compete with the eating experience here. There are several factors: The quality of ingredients is unbeatable, the local life-loving crowd creates an unmatchable ambience, the power of the owner's personality keeps the energy right, and the terroir of actually eating after the foreplay of a day in Tuscany is something you can't get anywhere but here. And nothing prevents you from being in the moment: When dining under medieval vaults, there's no cell-phone reception.

Enjoying the now-pedestrianized, virtually traffic-free center of Florence, I ended the evening on what's considered the first square of the Renaissance, Piazza S.S. Annunziata. I've always loved picnicking here during the day with the riffraff, who remind me of the persistent gap — today as in Renaissance times — between those who appreciate fine wine and those who appreciate cheap wine. But there was something enchanting about being out here at midnight, when all the bums were tucked away out of sight, surrounded by the beautiful harmony of this square.

In Lucca, an hour's drive from Florence, I was inspired by the simple joy of watching an old man bicycling with his granddaughter atop the wide, fortified wall that once protected this proud city from its enemies — and now seems to corral its Old World charm. Then, on rented bikes, one of the many tour groups I send to Italy each year frolicked by. Their enthusiasm was contagious. Squinting at the energy in their smiles, surrounded by dazzling sunshine, it struck me that the sun in Italy seems to have a special glint. It's as if it's telling visitors, "Embrace life!"

At one of my favorite new trattorias in Tuscany, the chef cut open a cantaloupe-sized rock of aged pecorino cheese, sniffed it like a fine wine, and then passed it to me. The dank, rustic smell took my mind straight to an agriturismo barn I had visited, where random rays of sun cut between the weathered boards, filtered by floating dust from the hay, and bathed the sheep in a timeless Tuscan light. The next day, I returned to the restaurant, needing again the fragrant ritual splitting of the pecorino.

Rome continued to enthrall and seduce me like never before. For centuries, pilgrims have been climbing the Scala Santa's Holy Stairs on their knees. Brought to Rome from Jerusalem, these are purportedly the stairs from Pontius Pilate's palace that Christ climbed the day he was condemned. For decades, I've watched this ritual. But this time, a voice inside me said, "Do it!" Knees screaming, weathered faithful struggling up the staircase with me, fresco of a crucified Christ high above, I climbed the 28 wooden steps. With each polished step, I learned a bit about both the bone structure of my knees and the value of pain when praying.

Venice's St. Mark's Square has always been littered with kitschy souvenir carts and jammed with tourists throughout the day. But this time I saw it in a different light. Up for an early morning film shoot, it was just me, my crew, a few businesspeople, and the occasional jogger. I marveled at how the history popped with the architecture and without the modern tourism. The Gothic was so lacy, and the Renaissance so capable. It looked like a pure, computer-generated Venetian cityscape — only it was real.

I always sign off from my public-television show by saying, "I'm Rick Steves. Until next time, keep on travelin'." But last summer, on a gondola, surrounded by the watery majesty of Venice, I was moved to change it up a bit. Script covered and show in the can, I looked at the camera and said, "I'm Rick Steves. Life is good. Be thankful. Ciao."

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.

On a Roll with European Breakfasts

rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 00:00:00 PST

Like travel in general, breakfast gets you out of your routine and throws you a cultural curve that can add to the memories of your trip. Not long ago, I grabbed breakfast at a hotel in southern Spain. The only cereal available was a local version of frosted corn flakes. As there was no "mature" option, I indulged in a bowl of my childhood favorite. But the cereal milk was heated — apparently standard in this part of Spain. My poor frosted flakes immediately turned to mush. Not so grrrrrrreat.

Soggy flakes or not, breakfast is a fun part of travel and the experience varies plenty from one country's breakfast table to the next.

Generally, the farther south you go, the lighter the breakfasts. In France, Italy, and Spain, skimpier "continental" breakfasts are the norm. Traditionally, you'll get a roll with marmalade or jam, occasionally a slice of ham or cheese, and coffee or tea.

The good news? These little breakfasts compel you to sample regional favorites: In Spain, look for "churros con chocolate" (a fritter served with a warm chocolate drink), "pan con tomate" (a toasted baguette rubbed with fresh garlic and ripe tomato), or a "tortilla española" (a hearty slice of potato omelet). Italian breakfasts are impossibly tiny, but the delicious red orange juice you get is made from Sicilian blood oranges. And you can buy a delightful toasted sandwich from a corner bar anywhere, anytime in Italy to make up for the miniscule breakfast. In France, locals just grab a warm croissant and coffee on the way to work. Queue up with the French and consider the yummy options: croissants studded with raisins, packed with crushed almonds, or filled with chocolate or cream.

When hotel breakfasts are too small for my taste, I supplement them with a piece of fruit or hunk of cheese from a local market. Being a juice man, I keep a liter box of OJ in my room for a morning eye-opener. Coffee drinkers know that breakfast is the only cheap time to caffeinate. Hotels generally serve you a bottomless cup with your morning meal. After that, the cups acquire bottoms and refills will cost you.

The farther north you go in Europe, the heartier the breakfasts become. The heaviest is the traditional British "fry." Also known as a "Plate of Cardiac Arrest," these are a fundamental part of the bed-and-breakfast experience and are generally included in your room price. A standard fry comes with cereal or porridge, a fried egg, Canadian-style bacon or sausage (and sometimes mackerel or haggis), a grilled tomato, sautéed mushrooms, baked beans, and fried bread or toast. This protein-stuffed meal can tide me over until dinner. You'll quickly figure out which parts of the fry you like. Your host will likely ask you this up front, rather than serve you the whole shebang and risk having to throw out uneaten food.

The Scandinavian breakfast buffet is the perennial favorite for the "most food on the table" award. It pays to take advantage of breakfast smorgasbords when you can. For about $20 (cheap for these parts), you can dig into an all-you-can-eat extravaganza of fresh bread, cheeses, yogurt, cereal, boiled eggs, herring, cold cuts, and coffee or tea. In another variation on cereal and milk, Scandinavians like to pour thick yogurt over their granola.

Throughout the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, and Eastern Europe, expect a more modest buffet — but you’ll still find plenty of cheeses, meats, fruit, yogurt, and cereal. In Poland, track down "jajecznica," the local wake-up call of eggs scrambled with kielbasa sausage, served with a side of potato pancakes. The breakfast of choice in Russia is "oladi," pancakes perfectly fried to be crisp on the outside but soft in the middle, then topped with sour cream, honey, or berries.

Germans have an endearing habit of greeting others in the breakfast room with a slow and dour "Morgen" (Morning... short for "good morning"), though they have plenty to be happy about. Breakfast is usually included, and offers hearty fuel for the day: ham, eggs, cheese, bread, rolls, and pots of coffee. For a filling cereal, try "Bircher Musli," a healthful mix of oats, nuts, yogurt, and fruit. If breakfast is optional, take a walk to the nearest bakery — Germany and Austria have a world of enticing varieties of bread and pastries, baked fresh every morning.

Come to the European breakfast table with an adventurous spirit. I'm a traditionalist at home, but when I feel the urge for an American breakfast in Europe, I beat it to death with a hard roll.

Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.