In Rome, the Colosseum is being cleaned from top to bottom and given permanent lighting. For the first time, tours are being offered to previously restricted areas — underground passageways and the third-floor parapet. This behind-the-scenes tour is available only by booking a 90-minute tour at least a day in advance with Pierrici, a private company (www.pierreci.it).

At Rome's Palatine Hill, you can now tour the House of Livia, the home of the wife of Emperor Augustus. Guided visits, which are included with admission, take 20 people in every half-hour to tour the site and its newly restored frescoes. As surviving Roman wall paintings are rare (these date back to the first century B.C.), it's worth the trouble.

A few doors are better left closed: Rome's Mamertine Prison is no longer worth a visit. Until recently, it was a charming and historic sight. Today its artifacts have been removed, and a commercial tour-bus company is charging €10 for a cheesy "multimedia" walk-through. Don't go in. And avoid getting sucked in by the clever advertising for the Time Elevator Roma or the hype surrounding the new, inconveniently located MAXXI modern-art museum, which to me comes off like a second-rate Pompidou Center.

At St. Peter's Basilica, you won't have to descend into the crypt to find the tomb of the late, beloved Pope John Paul II. After he was beatified on May 1 (bringing him a step closer to sainthood), his remains were moved to the Chapel of San Sebastian on the main floor on the basilica (midway between Michelangelo's Pieta and the main altar).

In Venice, as renovations continue at the Accademia — showcasing the city's top collection of Venetian paintings — some major canvases are out of view and some rooms are closed entirely. There's still scaffolding around the base of the Campanile, the dramatic bell tower on St. Mark's Square, but a three-year restoration of the lovely little Bridge of Sighs — popular with romantics who kiss as they glide under it on a gondola — is now complete.

In Florence the big news for visitors is the energetic young mayor's passion for traffic-free zones. Once brutal for pedestrians, the city's core is now a delight on foot. That means it's also more bike-friendly, and you'll find appealing city bike tours and bike rental services readily available.

Florence also now offers a new sightseeing pass called the Florence Card (€50). Though it's unlikely to save you much money, it saves you the hassle of making reservations for the top sights (Uffizi and Accademia galleries), and — most important — allows you to bypass the long lines. The card is valid for 72 hours, includes most sights, and covers free use of city buses. Especially if you'll be seeing five or six major sights within three days, the pass is worth it for the convenience and the time saved.

At Florence's Duomo Museum, the restoration of the original panels of Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise is wrapping up. The famous panels are being reinserted in their door frames and should be back on display for a formal inauguration on June 24, 2012, the feast day of Florence's patron saint, John the Baptist. And Florence's Galileo Science Museum, which was in a jumble of restoration for years, is now all fixed up and ready for prime time.

Sadly, the biggest change in Italy for 2012 is the result of a natural disaster. When I was in in the magical towns of the Cinque Terre in May 2011, I never could have imagined that, just a few months later, the streets I walked on would be under more than six feet of mud and rocks, devastated by a horrific flash flood.

Of the five towns of the Cinque Terre, the two most popular towns for tourists — Vernazza and Monterosso — were hit hard. Monterosso plans to be ready for business in the spring of 2012, but Vernazza's road to recovery will take longer. At www.ricksteves.com we're host a landing page with updates, travel information, and hotlinks to organizations accepting donations to aid the town's recovery.

In spite of the damage and disruption, I'm already making plans to visit the Cinque Terre in 2012 and expect to have a wonderful Riviera experience. The strong spirit of its people and the love of its many honorary citizens — the legions of visitors, like me, who have left a piece of their hearts there — will ensure that the Cinque Terre will rebuild.

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.

The scaffolding that has long been a part of the Colosseum will finally come down after its top-to-bottom cleaning. (photo credit: Gene Openshaw)

Workers are busy digging out the Cinque Terre towns devastated by a flash flood in October 2011. (photo credit: Deanna Woodruff)

I'm standing in one of Germany's largest Christmas markets — 200 wooden stalls crammed with local artisans dealing in all things Christmas. With all these goodies, it's no wonder that Nürnberg's Christkindlesmarkt (www.christkindlesmarkt.de) attracts more than 2 million people annually.

A traditional center for toy-making in Germany, Nürnberg has long prided itself on the quality of its market. With no canned music, fake greenery, plastic kitsch, or war toys, it feels classier than your average crafts fair. As far back as 1610, a proclamation warned that "indecent joke articles would be confiscated." The merchants' stalls are old-style wood huts with traditional ambience, and each year the most beautiful stall is awarded the prestigious "Prune Man" trophy, a homemade figurine made of fruit.

Germany's holiday markets are a Christmasy fantasy of tiny figurines — and this market offers some of the best. Nutcrackers, strong-jawed to crack even the toughest nuts, are usually authority figures like soldiers, policemen, and constables. "Smokers," which are small carvings of woodworkers, loggers, postmen, and other common folk, send out fragrant incense from their tiny smoke-ring-blowing mouths.

Many of these classic wooden figurines originated in the highly forested region of Saxony in eastern Germany. When the iron ore and silver mines went out of business back in the 15th century, Saxon miners became woodworkers.

A popular Nürnberg decoration is the candle chime. A multi-tiered wooden stand holds candles, which heat a pinwheel on top, causing it to spin. Each level of the stand features a different carved scene — a Nativity, forest critters, nutcrackers, or miners at work. It's said these chimes were especially popular in mining communities because of the miners' hunger for, and appreciation of, light.

The golden Rausch Angel hovering above the market is an icon of Christmas in Nürnberg. The name is a bit of German onomatopoeia — "rausch" is the sound of wind blowing through the angel's gold foil wings. For locals, there's no better way to cap their home's Christmas tree than with a miniature version of this angel.

After the sun sets, Nürnberg's Christkindlesmarkt delights as shoppers enjoy some old-time fast food. Spicy smoke billows from stalls selling the famous Nürnberg bratwurst, skinny as your little finger. Stick three of them on a crunchy fresh roll, then add a generous squirt of spicy mustard.

At the next stall, wrap your mittens around a mug of hot-spiced wine. A disposable paper or plastic cup would ruin the experience, so you must pay a deposit for a nicely decorated ceramic one. Either return the mug or keep it as a collectible, since each year there's a different model.

Bakeries crank out traditional gingerbread — the Lebkuchen Nürnberg — using the same recipe they did in the 17th century. Back then, Nürnberg was the gingerbread capital of the world, and a stroll through the market makes it clear that the city's love affair with the cake continues.

For four centuries, the families of Nürnberg have bought their gingerbread at this thriving Christkindlesmarkt. The gingerbread was not baked in the home, but was made exclusively by a guild of master bakers, the Lebküchler.

The cake itself became a work of art. Well-known sculptors, painters, and goldsmiths added ornament and detail. Carvers whittled intricate wooden molds of hearts, angels, and wreaths. Painters frosted the cookies or added a flourish of gold paint.

Germany's gingerbread tradition — whether as a spiced cake, cookie, or even a small loaf — has spread throughout Europe, and they're sold at fairs, carnivals, and markets.

Another German tradition that has spread all over Europe and the New World is the candy cane. The first candy canes were simple, straight white sticks of sugar candy. In 1670, a choirmaster at the Cologne Cathedral, fed up with noisy kids ruining the ambience, passed them out during a Nativity service to keep the restless children quiet. He'd had the ends bent to depict a shepherd's crook. German immigrants to America popularized the practice of using them to decorate Christmas trees (and an American company added the signature red stripes in the 1920s).

Germany has long celebrated Christmas well, with markets that seem more like a public service than a seasonal business. From sweets to savory treats, candles to carousels, Nürnberg's Christkindlesmarkt warms up cold days and lights up dark nights. Its festive swirl of heartwarming sights, sounds, and scents is sure to get you in the holiday spirit.

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.

Nürnberg's cathedral towers over the city's Christmas market, the largest of its kind in Germany. (photo credit: ETBD)

Festival nutcrackers in Germany are often depicted as authority figures such as soldiers, policemen, and constables. (photo credit: ETBD)

Five years ago, when working on my Travel as a Political Act book in El Salvador, I visited Beatriz, a proud and hardworking single mother. She was struggling to raise two daughters with dignity in the squalor that results from structural poverty. On this trip, I wanted to get an update on Beatriz and her family since they had been prominently featured in my book. She still lived in her modest home in the capital city of San Salvador — a single cinderblock room with a dirt floor. From the tin roof overhead to the hardscrabble chicken roaming the dusty yard, it seemed unchanged after five years.

In 2005, Beatriz's main concern was government policies in the wake of El Salvador's civil war, a decade-long battle between the leftist FMLN and the victorious, American-backed Salvadorian military government. Now, however, the driving daily concerns for her and her daughters are the fear of crime and the ever-rising cost of living. The daughters spoke of their fear of riding the bus to work. Routinely thieves stop the bus and enter from each end, taking all of the riders' valuables. So now, when the daughters leave home, they don't take anything of value without considering, "Do I want to risk losing this?"

As is typical for women in El Salvador, Beatriz's daughters work in a textile plant sewing garments for international corporations. They work 48-hour weeks and make about $300 per month (roughly $1.50 per hour). Though this is meager, it is nearly double the country's minimum wage. These maquiladora plants, while pretty miserable by US standards, are considered a blessing here, as they bring relatively solid jobs to a land without much industry.

After presenting the family with a copy of the book and watching the girls delightfully read aloud to their illiterate mother, we sat down to a hearty lunch. As I looked around, their Christmas tree seemed a little funny, and they explained that it was only the bottom half of a fake tree that they shared with an uncle. They simply bent one of the big branches up to make it look like the top of the tree.

Driving away from Beatriz's impoverished barrio, it occurred to me that the wealthy elite of El Salvador are hardly mindful of these downtown realities; they can function fine without ever crossing paths with this ugly side of their society. On previous visits, I had driven through rich neighborhoods and marveled at the designer fortifications guarding individual mansions. On this trip, I tried to follow the same route, but I saw only landscaped roads with walls that protected entire neighborhoods. Even parks were behind ramparts, so wealthy kids could safely get a little fresh air with armed guards always near.

To peer over these barricades, I visited La Gran Vía, one of several top-end malls. More than just malls, they function as the city center for people living in gated communities. La Gran Vía had the shiny fantasy aura of Disney World: a cheerful pedestrian boulevard flanked by two floors of restaurants, shops, children's playgrounds, and a multistory garage filled with luxury cars. Little sightseeing trains took visitors on the rounds.

My dinner there was in a T.G.I. Friday's-type restaurant. While sharing a drink with a Salvadoran couple, it became clear to me that in two days of sightseeing I had experienced more of the city's pithy core than these residents had in years. They peppered me with questions about their own city. Since they considered it dangerous to go downtown, it mystified them that I had been there.

I capped my La Gran Vía night at the movie theater, enjoying a comedy alongside Salvadorans who consider razor wire lining the tops of their walls as a status symbol. Sitting in that air-conditioned comfort, munching on popcorn, my mind wandered back to Beatriz's dirt floor and handmade tortillas. She and her community, having so little, embrace life with a mindset of abundance — thankful for the simple things they do have. In contrast, we Americans and the elite of El Salvador seem to operate with a mindset of scarcity — seeking what we don't have and building walls to protect what we might lose.

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.

One of El Salvador's high-end shopping mall has the shiny fantasy aura of Disney World. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

Beatriz, a hardworking single mother in El Salvador, and her two daughters laugh over the descriptions of themselves in my travel book. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

While today's Denmark is small — roughly twice the size of Massachusetts — at one time the Danish empire included all of Scandinavia and stretched into Germany. A reminder of all that power is the stunning Frederiksborg Castle, floating serenely on an island in the middle of a lake. An hour north of Copenhagen, Frederiksborg is considered by many to be the grandest castle in Scandinavia — the Danish Versailles.

Built in the early 1600s, Frederiksborg was the castle of Christian IV, Denmark's greatest king. Today it houses the Museum of National History, filled with countless musty paintings that create a fascinating scrapbook of Danish history from 1500 until today.

Frederiksborg still gives visitors a feel for what it was like in its heyday. The suitably regal entry is ringed by a moat designed more for swans than defense. The royal apartments exude royal opulence. The Great Hall is where Christian IV threw lavish parties, with the orchestra playing from their perch above.

If you prefer Rauschenberg to royalty, a trip to the Louisiana is a must. About 30 minutes north of Copenhagen, Scandinavia's most-raved-about modern-art museum is a holistic place that masterfully mixes art, architecture, and landscape. A delightful sculpture garden sprawls through the grounds, downhill toward the sea. Inside, the ever-changing collection displays post-1945 art, including Picassos, Warhols, and Hockneys. A crowd favorite is The Big Thumb, a six-foot-tall bronze thumb by the French sculptor César.

While Copenhagen is Denmark's political and cultural capital, its historic capital is located about 20 miles to the west in the town of Roskilde. Eight hundred years ago, this was the seat of Denmark's royalty and its center of power. Today, the town is famous for hosting northern Europe's biggest rock festival each July, featuring such acts as U2, Bowie, and Björk.

But long before Coldplay came to play, Christians came to pray. Roskilde's centerpiece is its imposing 12th-century, twin-spired cathedral. This stately old church, with fine wood carvings and a great 16th-century organ, is the resting place of 38 kings and queens.

After the Reformation gutted the church of its saints and Marys, it left a blank slate for Danish royals to fill with their tombs. The oldest tomb, from 1397, holds Queen Margrethe I, whose strong leadership and clever negotiating helped unite the three Nordic Kingdoms. Today, a spot has been restored for its next resident — the current queen, Margrethe II, who teamed up with an artist to design her own tomb.

A short walk from the cathedral leads to Roskilde's waterfront and the excellent Viking Ship Museum, highlighted by five full-size vessels. These ships were deliberately sunk a thousand years ago to block the entrance to the strategic and rich city. In 1962 they were brought up from their salty grave.

The huge, ocean-going freighter is similar to the ship Leif Eriksson took to America 1,000 years ago, though this one was likely used to carry Viking emigrants — with their families and the entire farm — to Iceland and later on to the New World. The skinnier, faster warship, powered by 26 oarsmen, terrorized much of Europe back when people dreaded those rampaging Norsemen.

The museum's interactive exhibits are great for kids. Craftsmen demonstrate boat-building, rope-making, woodcarving, and other traditional skills, while a replica Viking ship sails around Roskilde's harbor, giving visitors a taste of what it was like to ride in a vessel built by these fabled masters of the sea.

About an hour west of Roskilde, the industrial city of Odense is Denmark's third-largest metropolis. Tourists come here to visit the home of its famous son, Hans Christian Andersen, whom the Danes call simply H.C. ("hoe see").

Today his humble birth house stands on a cobbled lane at the corner of a museum. It displays letters from his life and times, and items belonging to this quirky genius, from his trademark top hat to the 30-foot length of rope he traveled with, just in case his hotel room caught fire and he needed to escape. A library shows Andersen's books from around the world, while headsets play some of his beloved fairy tales.

Children gather daily through the summer in the garden's storybook theater. Wide-eyed and enthralled, they're entertained by an H.C. lookalike and a cast of characters straight out of his stories. It makes for a happy ending to everyone's visit.

From daunting ships to regal castles, Denmark is a land of fairy tales. Each time I visit, it's like reading another page of a book that I don't want to end.

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.

Walking up to Frederiksborg Castle, you can almost hear the clopping of royal hooves as you pass over several moats. (Credit: David C. Hoerlein)

At the Hans Christian Andersen House, performances of the writer's favorite fairy tales, such as The Emperor's New Clothes, take place in the garden each summer. (Credit: David C. Hoerlein)

In the early 1900s, Berlin was an avant-garde cultural capital — think cabarets and Marlene Dietrich. But then came Hitler. After a difficult 20th century, today's Berlin is proudly stepping up to retake its place as Europe's powerhouse. Since German reunification 20 years ago, the city has gone on a building frenzy, wasting no time in refashioning itself. When the Wall fell, East Berlin was a decrepit wasteland, but these days, the vibrant pulse of the city is steadily drifting eastward.

The city center itself is blossoming. It's worth taking a boat tour or pedaling a rental bike along the Spree River just for the chance to glide by all the sleek new governmental architecture that lines its banks. You'll see colossal buildings like the federal Chancellery — Germany's grandiose answer to our White House, complete with its own river bridge and a helicopter pad. While Prussian rulers once built their buildings right up to the river's edge, Berlin today seems determined to make its riverbanks a delightful park. New buildings are set back, beachy cafés come with summery lounge chairs, and the river — once hung with metal nets and barbed wire to keep people from crossing it to freedom — now makes you want to walk a dog and hug someone.

One of the most ambitious urban renewal projects is taking place in the cultural park of Museum Island, which sits right in the middle of the Spree. The 19th-century Prussian king Friedrich Wilhelm IV imagined the island as a place of art and learning, and began constructing what would eventually become five separate museums. But WWII bombs and communist-era neglect left the buildings and their collections in shambles. Now, each of these world-class galleries (proud home to the Greek Pergamon Altar and the exquisite Queen Nefertiti bust) is being renovated in turn. When the dust finally settles, a grand visitors center will link the museums.

Old spaces are being reimagined for cultural purposes throughout the city. The Humboldt-Forum, a huge public venue, is rising where a Hohenzollern palace once stood. Shops, galleries, and concert halls will operate behind a facade built in precise imitation of the Baroque original. The Prussian home of the German History Museum (a former arsenal) has a strikingly modern all-glass annex. The stately old red-brick Imperial Post Office now hosts an innovative avant-garde photography gallery.

A fitting symbol for the new Berlin is its rebuilt Reichstag — this country's historic parliament building and the symbolic heart of German democracy. When inaugurated in the 1890s, the emperor dismissed the parliament building as a "house for chatting." At the end of World War I, the German Republic was proclaimed from here. Then, in 1933, a mysterious fire gutted the building. It stood mostly empty through the Cold War.

Now, with the parliament back in Berlin, the Reichstag welcomes the public (those who've made advance reservations). It is a great example of contemporary architecture that is both dramatic and meaningful within its environment. The building combines old and new, as does the reunited Berlin. While the original cupola that capped the building was stone and steel, the present one is glass. A walkway inside winds all the way to the top, and tourists like the view out. But for Germans, it's the view in that matters — keeping a close eye on their government at work.

Berlin can sometimes feel more imposing than charming. Along with huge museums and towering architecture, its sprawling apartment complexes are immense, with courtyard after courtyard retreating in from the street front. Traditionally, the poorer you were, the deeper into the complex you lived.

But with its rebirth, the city's prewar historic center is filling up with new residents and revitalized buildings. Apartment blocks are livelier than ever. Hackeschen Höfe — with eight courtyards spilling through a wonderfully restored 1907 Art Nouveau building — is just one of the many complexes now home to sought-after residences, stylish restaurants, and trendy art galleries. These courtyards are a wonderful example of how to make huge city blocks livable, and they also serve a useful lesson for visitors: Much of Berlin's charm hides off the street front.

The attention given to Berlin's 20th-century history — Hitler, communism, the Wall — is intriguing for many. But for young Berliners, that's ancient history — and a visitor to this moving target of a city will see why. Today's Berlin is a nonstop festival of style, substance, and constant change.

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 leisurely boat tour on the Spree River is one of the best ways to view the cutting-edge architecture — like the Chancellery — rising throughout Berlin. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

The glass dome of Berlin's parliament building, the Reichstag, is the perfect metaphor for transparency in government. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

An easy day trip from London, Cambridge is the epitome of a university town, with busy bikers, stately residence halls, plenty of bookshops, and proud locals who can point out where DNA was originally modeled, the atom first split, and electrons discovered.

The lively street in front of King's College, called King's Parade, seems to be where everyone in Cambridge gathers. Nearby you'll find King's College Chapel, England's best example of Perpendicular Gothic architecture. When it was built, it had the largest single span of vaulted roof anywhere — 2,000 tons of incredible fan vaulting, held in place by the force of gravity.

For a little levity and probably more exercise than you really want, try renting one of the traditional flat-bottom boats called "punts" and pole yourself up and down the Cam river. Then quench your thirst at The Eagle, a pub near King's College on Benet Street. This Cambridge institution has a history so rich that a visit here practically qualifies as sightseeing. Look for the misnamed "RAF Bar," where US Air Force pilots signed the ceiling while stationed here during World War II.

While Cambridge is an easygoing small town, Oxford has more of an urban feel. You can visit it as a day trip from London, or stop here on your way to the Cotswolds or Stratford-upon-Avon.

Stick to Oxford's center, and you'll get a feel for the workaday city, where knowledge is the town business — and procrastinating over a pint is the students' main hobby. Local shops sell T-shirts that say, "Don't ask me about my thesis."

Of Oxford's colleges, Christ Church is the largest and most prestigious (and, some think, most pretentious). It's also the most popular (and most expensive) for tourists to visit — partly thanks to its historic fame, but mostly because some scenes in the Harry Potter movies were filmed here. Be sure to stroll under the "Bridge of Sighs," modeled after the one in Venice and built to connect the two parts of Hetford College.

Take a break from Oxford's college quads at the Ashmolean Museum on Beaumont Street, which recently underwent a $100 million renovation. The vast collection features everything from antiquities to fine porcelain to Old Masters paintings to Lawrence of Arabia's ceremonial dress (www.ashmolean.org).

If you're a fan of Middle-earth and Narnia, stop by The Eagle and Child pub, a five-minute walk from the city center on St. Giles Street. It's more famous for its clientele than its very traditional food — authors J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis often met here.

Visitors to Scotland usually think that St. Andrews is synonymous with golf. But there's more to this charming town than its famous links; St. Andrews is the home of Scotland's most important university. Founded in 1411, it's the third-oldest in the English-speaking world — only Oxford and Cambridge have been around longer. And it's well-connected by train and bus to Edinburgh, making it a worthwhile day trip from Scotland's capital.

Its most famous recent graduate is Prince William (class of '05). Soon after he started here, the number of female applicants to study art history — his major — skyrocketed. In 2001 he met another art history major named Catherine Middleton — and the couple made their own history 10 years later when she married the heir to the British throne.

St. Andrews is enjoyably compact: You can stroll across town — from its cathedral ruins to the historic golf course — in about 15 minutes. The quad of St. Salvator's College — known to students as Sally's Quad, is its heart. As most of the university's classrooms, offices, and libraries are spread out across the medieval town, this quad is the one focal point for student gatherings. If you're feeling curious, push open a few doors (some seemingly off-limits university buildings, many marked by blue doors, are actually open to the public).

There's no shortage of pubs here, but one of the most famous is inside the St. Andrews Golf Hotel. Called Ma Bells, it's a sleek but friendly place that clings to its status as one of Prince William's favorites, where he reportedly drank cider with his bodyguards.

Visit one of Britain's university towns for a heady mix of history, pubs, and youthful fun. Fortunately, you don't need to enroll to get an insiders' look.

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.

The roof of King's College Chapel in Cambridge has 2,000 tons of incredible fan vaulting. (photo credit: Cameron Hewitt)

Oxford's characteristic architecture includes its own Bridge of Sighs, modeled after the famous bridge in Venice. (photo credit: Cameron Hewitt)

In October 2011, a freakishly intense rainstorm ripped through the region and inflicted serious damage on the Cinque Terre towns of Monterosso and Vernazza. Torrents of water rampaged from the surrounding mountains into town, carrying with it tons of mud and debris. Massive flooding destroyed homes and businesses, and landslides filled the streets with rocks, dirt, and debris up to 12 feet deep. Entire ground floors were buried.

Photos and videos of the devastation show store fronts ripped off and fishing boats crumbled on rocks. The images of spindly, pastel Vernazza buried in rubble were especially difficult to look at. I've been there so many times that I actually think of it as a person. I believe I know more people in Vernazza than in all of Spain. After the disaster, the town looked like a crime scene. I felt as if I'd lost a friend — as if nature had murdered someone I loved.

For some, it did. At least six people died in the flash floods. In one heartbreaking account on the Save Vernazza website (http://savevernazza.com/), Valentino Giannoni recalls the tense hours in his father's gelato shop as he did everything he could to keep his wife and three-year-old son above the rising tide. They survived — but Valentino's father was swept away while trying to keep the flood from consuming his family.

One of my staff members was also in Vernazza at the time. She and her family were eating pesto pasta when water started seeping into the restaurant. As the water level rose, everyone migrated into another room and took refuge on tabletops while several people held their bodies against the door to try to keep the water from raging in.

As the group waited for the storm to subside, they started to smell gas. The floodwaters had ripped the restaurant's stove from the wall, leaving an exposed gas connection. As she recounted, they didn't know if they were going to drown or die in an explosion.

After more than two hours, the floodwaters receded momentarily (likely slowed by a pile-up of jumbled, overturned cars in the ravine), allowing everyone in the restaurant to escape to higher ground. Shortly thereafter, the rain increased, and the river rose even higher, pushing everything in its path into the sea. My staff member and her family ended up at Al Castello restaurant, where the owners provided food for about 100 tourists and townspeople. Later that evening, the owners of the Gianni Franzi hotel took them in; they were evacuated by boat the next morning.

Sicne the flood, I've heard from many friends in the region. The communities of Vernazza and Monterosso are in for a bleak, backbreaking time of rebuilding, but they are determined to come back. One hotelier in Monterosso has promised to fix the damage in time to welcome our tour group coming in the spring.

I'll be back too. One of my favorite rituals in Vernazza is to walk the main drag at midnight, from top to bottom. In ancient times, a stream rushed down the middle of this street. At some point, generations ago, the stream was put under the pavement. But it still flows, draining water from the terraced vineyards that surround the town on three sides. At one point, you can actually hear the soft sounds of water flowing beneath the road, from vineyards to the sea. It's strange to imagine that within the course of a few hours, this underground rivulet turned into a roaring river that claimed lives.

When people ask me what they can do to help, I tell them to keep the Cinque Terre in their travel dreams. Like I do almost every year, I'll be traveling here soon to do some filming and update my guidebook. Witnessing the damage — and the progress — firsthand will be both inspirational and bittersweet. Most of all, I look forward to taking that midnight stroll, stream trickling underneath my feet, just like I have for the past 30 years.

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.

Vernazza's pristine harbor, before rainstorms and floods ravaged the town. (Credit: Deanna Russell Woodruff)

Vernazza's pristine harbor, after rainstorms and floods ravaged the town. (Credit: Deanna Russell Woodruff)

Floodwaters rush into Vernazza's harbor. (Credit: Tom Wallace)

Every year I ask myself whether it's worth the worry and expense of mixing photography with my travels. Then, after I see my images and relive my trip through them, the answer is always "Yes!" Here are some tips and lessons that I've learned from the photographic school of hard knocks.

Most people are limited by their skills, not their camera. It helps to understand your equipment before you travel, but ultimately your most valuable tool is a sharp eye connected to a basic understanding of how your camera works. Work through the manual. Then make a point to be creative in your photo safari: Capture striking light, contrasting shades, repeating patterns, interesting textures, bold colors, and intimate close-ups.

Look for a new slant on an old sight. Postcard-type shots are hard to resist, but boring. Everyone knows what the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben looks like. Find a different approach to sights that everyone has seen. Instead of showing the Leaning Tower lean, climb to its top and try a shot of the piazza below you. Shoot up at the snowy face of the Matterhorn...through the hind legs of a cow.

Capture the personal and intimate details of your trip. Show how you lived, who you met, and what made each day an adventure (a close-up of a picnic, your favorite taxi driver, the character you befriended at the launderette). Those moments — your moments — are the ones you'll want to remember.

Vary your perspective. Shoot close, far, low, or high, during the day and at night. Don't fall into the rut of always centering a shot. Use foregrounds to add color, depth, and interest to landscapes.

Maximize good lighting. Bright light at midday will wash out and deaden your pictures. Real photographers wait for the magic hours — early morning and late afternoon — when the sun is low and colors glow. I took some of my best photos ever at sunset of the Gothic statues at Chartres Cathedral. The setting sun brought life to the expressions on their delicately carved faces, almost as though they were struggling to share the stories they've told eight centuries of pilgrims. Good lighting adds a valuable dimension to any scene. Portraits often look better in the even soft light of a shadow.

Notice details. Eliminate distractions by zeroing in on your subject. Get so close that you show only one thing. Don't try to show all of something in one shot — zoom in. People are the most interesting subjects. It takes nerve to walk up to someone and take his or her picture. But if you want some great shots, be nervy. (In any language, point at your camera and ask, "Photo?") Your subject will probably be delighted. Many photographers take a second shot immediately after the first portrait to capture a looser, warmer subject. The famous war photographer Robert Capa once said, "If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough." My favorite portraits are so close that the entire head can't fit into the frame.

Buildings, in general, are not interesting. It doesn't matter if Karl Marx or Beethoven were born there, a house is as dead as its former resident. Experienced travel photographers take more people shots and fewer buildings or general landscapes.

Don't be afraid to hand-hold a slow shot in low light. At most museums, you aren't allowed to use a flash or tripod. But if you can lean against a wall, for instance, bipods like you become tripods. Use a self-timer which clicks the shutter more smoothly than your finger can. Many new digital cameras use "image stabilization" to help in low-light situations.

A video camera used to be a big, heavy lug-along. Now, thanks to pocket-sized video cameras — and the proliferation of video cameras build into smartphones — shooting and sharing vacation clips is easier than ever.

With cameras getting smaller and smaller, it's tempting to make your trip more photo/video-focused than experiential. Like a hunter on safari, you see everything as photographic prey — to be captured, or missed. Aside from skewing your priorities, there's nothing that screams "tourist!" like a camera bouncing on your belly. Don't let it become a barrier between you and the people you've traveled so far to connect with. My advice is to be selective, and pull out your camera for special moments. The viewfinder that really matters is the one atop your shoulders.

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.

Get close to your subject — and then even closer. (photo credit: Dominic Bonuccelli)

A camera can be a natural icebreaker — use yours to get to know the people around you. (photo credit: Dominic Bonuccelli)

I admit that I'd thought cruising was some kind of Vegas-on-the-Sea experience. Sure, there's hedonism, gambling, and folks who never seem to leave the ship. But I found that there's a good side to these massive ships as they keep a graceful rhythm at sea: sailing through the night, docking in major ports at dawn, and letting their passengers off to frolic on land until about 6 p.m.

I watched carefully to see how the cruise industry makes its money. While the initial cost of a cruise vacation may seem too good to be true, operators earn their gravy with extra profit centers: mostly drinks, gambling, on board shopping, kickbacks from shops on land, and excursion tours to places of interest within an easy bus ride from the port. I was struck by how most cruisers are happy to pay the inflated prices ($150-$200) for an excursion. But anyone willing to hop the shuttle bus to the main square of the port town and survey the options for local sightseeing tours could easily plan his or her own day trip — and save around 50 percent.

In most ports, I found a very healthy and efficient "find a need and fill it" energy for whatever cruise travelers might want: Internet access, taxi service, hats to provide shade, electric car or bike rentals, and small tour operators. But I also discovered a major downside to cruising: limited time in each port. Still, you can accomplish a lot in eight hours.

Because there are so few ports where cruises can start or finish, there are almost always days at sea. While it was hard for me to relax on the ship when we were in port, I loved a day at sea. I was continuously inspired by the simple vastness of the Mediterranean, and how we could spend an entire day and see no land and almost no boats. There's a clean, dramatic, screen-saver beauty to a two-tone-blue world of sea and sky.

Even relaxing on the ship is not always easy; there are always people to meet — and people to avoid — massive amounts of food to eat, and more than enough entertainment scheduled. In fact, an important skill for cruising is to pace yourself and not try to do everything.

On board, I took every chance possible to get behind the scenes. The typical cruise ship is an amazing machine — a nearly billion-dollar investment that is impressively automated. I listened to the crew explain how the heat of the engines distills 25,000 gallons of salt water into fresh water every hour, and how the newfangled Azipods (with 18-foot-wide propellers turning a hundred times a minute) propel the ship without a standard shaft.

With 3,000 passengers, I had expected congestion and waiting in line to be a daily part of the cruise routine. But even though our ship was sold out, I never noticed congestion. Both on board the ship and on shore, if you make a point to get away from the mobs, you can. I enjoyed being all alone on the bow of the ship at night under the moon. After dinner, the top deck was all mine.

A few ports (like Dubrovnik) can be inundated by cruisers when several ships are in port at the same time. Everyone seems to do about the same things at roughly the same time. But in each of the ports on my cruises, I could be on my own — without a hint of the cruise industry — within an hour of finishing my on-board breakfast buffet.

So can independent travelers enjoy cruising? For some, my answer is yes. But independent types who take cruises need to prepare themselves with the information necessary to enjoy the best of both worlds — the economy, ease, and glorious hedonism of cruising with the joy and challenge of dipping into the cultural wonders of Europe on your own.

I'm actually neither pro- nor anti-cruising, any more than I'm pro- or anti-eating Thai food. I'm just doing my best to keep an open mind, not be "elitist" as an independent traveler, and share what I've learned: Cruising is an option that works for a lot of people.

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.

Days at sea can be relaxing, even if you're an energetic independent traveler. (photo credit: Patricia Feaster)

While many cruisers are trapped in the mob when the ship docks, it's possible to dip into local cultural wonders on your own. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris: Littered with the tombstones of many of the city's most illustrious dead, this is your best one-stop look at Paris' fascinating, romantic past residents. The cemetery is relatively new, having opened in 1804. Today, this city of the dead (pop. 70,000) still accepts new residents, probably those who had heart attacks after learning the price: A 21-square-foot plot costs more than $15,000.

The cemetery holds the remains of Frédéric Chopin, Molière, Edith Piaf, Gertrude Stein, Héloïse and Abélard, and many more — but the grave of rock legend Jim Morrison is perhaps its most visited tomb. An iconic, funky bust of the rocker, which was stolen by fans, has been replaced with a more toned-down headstone. Another hot spot is Oscar Wilde's final resting place. This writer and martyr to homosexuality is mourned by "outcast men" (as the inscription says) and by wearers of heavy lipstick, who used to cover his gravestone with kisses (it's now protected by a plastic barrier).

Catacombs of Priscilla, Rome: Of the countless catacombs honeycombing the ground just outside Rome's ancient city walls, only five are open to the public. While most tourists and nearly all tour groups go out to the ancient Appian Way to see the famous catacombs of San Sebastiano and San Callisto, the Catacombs of Priscilla (on the other side of town, northeast of the main train station) are less commercialized and crowded, and just feel more intimate, as catacombs should.

Visitors enter from a convent and explore the result of 250 years of tunneling that occurred from the second to the fifth centuries. The underground tunnels, while empty of bones, are rich in early Christian graffiti — such as doves, peacocks, and fish — which functioned as a secret language. You'll see a few thousand of the 40,000 niches carved here, along with some beautiful frescoes, including what is considered the first depiction of Mary nursing the baby Jesus.

Highgate Cemetery, London: Located in the tea-cozy-cute village of Highgate, north of the city, this Victorian burial ground represents an intriguing, offbeat piece of London history. Built as a private cemetery, it was the fashionable place to bury the wealthy dead in the late 1800s. It has themed mausoleums, professional mourners, and several high-profile residents in its East Cemetery, including Karl Marx, George Eliot, and Douglas Adams. The tomb of "Godfather of Punk" Malcolm McLaren (former manager of the Sex Pistols) is often covered with rotten veggies.

Monumental Cemetery, Milan: Europe's most artistic and dreamy cemetery experience, this grand place was built just after Italy's unification to provide a suitable final resting spot for the city's "famous and well-deserving men." It's a long walk from Milan's Garibaldi Metro station, but it's worth it. Any cemetery is evocative, but this one — with its super-emotional portrayals of the deceased and their heavenly escorts (in art styles circa 1870–1930) — is in a class by itself. It's a vast garden art gallery of proud busts and grim reapers, heartbroken angels and weeping widows, too-young soldiers and countless old smiles, frozen on yellowed black-and-white photos.

Kaisergruft, Vienna: For centuries, Vienna was the heart of a vast empire ruled by the Habsburg family, but visiting their imperial remains is not as easy as you might imagine. These original organ donors left their bodies — about 150 in all — in the Kaisergruft (the Imperial Crypt at the Capuchin Church, not far from Vienna's famous Opera House), their hearts in the Augustinian Church (vaults closed to public), and their entrails in the crypt below St. Stephen's Cathedral.

Unless you have a thing for organs preserved in alcohol, visit the Kaisergruft. You'll find the tombs of all the Habsburg greats here. Flanking the appropriately austere military tomb of Emperor Franz Josef are the tombs of his son, the archduke Rudolf, and his wife, Empress Elisabeth. Rudolf and his teenage mistress supposedly committed suicide together, and it took considerable legal hair-splitting to win Rudolf a place in this consecrated space. Elisabeth, a 19th-century version of Princess Di, always gets the "Most Flowers" award.

When traveling, if you become dead tired of dusty art museums, rude waiters, or never-ending ticket lines, don't give up the ghost. Add some life to your European experience — visit a cemetery.

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.

Milan's Monumental Cemetery is Europe's most artistic and dreamiest. (photo credit: Rick Steves)

Rock legend Jim Morrison's grave is probably the most popular tomb in Paris' Père Lachaise Cemetery. (photo credit: Tom Griffin)

At Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, Oscar Wilde's tombstone used to be slathered with kisses. (photo credit: Tom Griffin)