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An Epicurean Odyssey: Valencia part 1 (incl. Ciutat Vella)


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Spain's third largest city is nowhere near as well-known as the huge metropolises of Madrid and Barcelona, yet it has much to offer travelers that can't be found elsewhere in the country. I remembered the beauty and energy of the old town from my prior visit seventeen years earlier, and not much else. We'd carefully selected an Airbnb at the edge of the Ciutat Vella, close to the Mercat Central but not deep enough inside the historic district to make our arrival logistically difficult. As it was, we had our usual trouble locating the apartment but eventually coordinated with our host to find the special route that would bring our car to the entrance. I chose the simplest and most expensive option of parking the car in a public garage a block away, rather than trying to negotiate with the owner of a ramshackle private lot inside the Ciutat Vella.

The Airbnb was a significant upgrade over the one in Cuenca, both in terms of space and air conditioning. There was also a kitchen one could move around in, which was an important consideration given that we were a hundred yards from the largest market in the city. We immediately set off to discover the Ciutat Vella. We walked northward on the western edge of the old town until we reached the Torres de Quart, an unusual-looking fortification that looks as though it was chopped in half by a giant cleaver. The tower is one of the few remnants of the wall that once encircled Valencia when the old town was the entire city. The flat, inner side of the tower is a complex display of arches and narrow staircases reminiscent of an Escher print.
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We turned inward to wander the narrow streets of the heavily graffitied ancient neighborhood. Despite the cobblestone streets, the area was not pedestrianized and I had to keep a close eye on the kids as many blocks had little in the way of sidewalks.
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Valencia is well-known for street art, and we were amazed by the sheer size of the pieces that covered the entire walls of some apartment buildings. The paintings stood out for their vibrant color and powerful, graphic imagery that was accentuated by the antiquated setting.
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We gravitated naturally to the Barrio del Carmen, the most bohemian and scenic part of the old town, where we fortuitously encountered a quite large and noisy parade. Soon afterward we lucked upon an excellent restaurant where we had squid ink paella and other dishes with a view of the amazing Baroque facade of Parroquia de la Santísima Cruz. Even the smell of urine wafting in from Plaza del Carmen couldn't dampen our spirits as we enjoyed our al fresco dinner in the energetic square.

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After dinner we took a different route back towards the Airbnb through the gathering dusk. We soon encountered the other remaining fortification of the old wall, Torres de Serranos, at the eastern edge of Barrio del Carmen. The major buildings were illuminated by streetlights that reflected off the paved squares to give the walls an attractive golden hue. At this time, people were beginning to flood into the old town and the energy level was palpable.large_IMG_0363.JPGlarge_IMG_0370.JPGlarge_IMG_0376.JPG

We were almost home when we heard the loud music in the opposite direction from the Airbnb. After some brief debate, we decided it was still too early in the trip to turn down potential adventures. We turned and walked in the direction of the music, and after a block found ourselves at Plaza del Ayuntamiento. the home of the architecturally magnificent Town Hall and Central Post Office. On this evening , it was the site of a cultural fair and a band was playing on a ground level stage. Some of the people dancing were Frenchmen celebrating their country's World Cup victory earlier that day. It was an entertaining scene in a breathtaking setting, and we were glad we'd taken the extra hour to experience it. When we finally returned home, we felt like we'd squeezed everything we could out of our first full day on the road trip.
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Even though Monday isn't the best day for markets in Southern Europe, we attacked Mercat Central as soon as we were able to get out of the apartment. You may have noticed the word "mercat" for market instead of the Spanish "mercado". Valencia claims to have its own language, although many consider it indistinguishable from Catalan. It's probably not advisable to say that in Valencia, however. The market has an unusually elaborate Art Nouveau exterior with Moorish designs and a cathedral-like dome.
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The market was large and busy enough that it seemed to be in full swing on a Monday, with the exception of the seafood section. Most of the stalls selling freshly-caught fish were closed, but there was still a good selection of shellfish including percebes (goose barnacles), one of our favorites.
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There was a good variety of produce as well as a decent amount of gourmet offerings. One thing that epitomizes Spain for me is the sight of endless rows of jamón hanging from the ceiling of a market deli.
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After whetting our appetites walking around the market, we were thrilled to find a busy tapas restaurant within the market where we enjoyed a solid brunch. The last thing we did before leaving the market was buy a small black truffle, despite the fact that it was well out of season. For the relatively low price, we decided we might as well give it a shot.
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Once we had explored every corner of Mercat Central, we returned to the parking garage and drove to the Valencia Aquarium at the southern end of Jardín del Turia. Turia is one of the most unique urban parks we've encountered on our travels, the end product of a huge engineering project. The space now occupied by the park was once the site of the Turia river, which would often overflow its banks and flood the surrounding neighborhood. In the middle of the 20th century, the Turia river was diverted south of the city center and the dry riverbed was converted into parkland. Jardín del Turia looks just like a snake slithering over a large rock, the Ciutat Vella.
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The Oceanografic Aquarium sits at the very tail end of the snake. It's Europe's largest aquarium by square footage, but I suspect they're counting the enormous cafeterias, shallow ponds, and sizable expanses of concrete walkways with no sea life in sight. The layout of the aquarium is very inefficient, and we were surprised by how little there actually was to see. When we arrived at the dolphin show an attendant told me it was just about to begin, and then we waited 45 minutes before there was any sign of dolphins. Once we finished with that, we were so tired of the place that we left without seeing the sharks and beluga whales which were probably the top highlight. Overall the experience fell far short of the Lisbon aquarium, regardless of square footage.
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Just north of the aquarium are the enormous, futuristic structures of the Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. The complex contains a science museum, a planetarium, an IMAX theater, and an opera hall among other facilities in three separate buildings that were designed by Valencia's native son Santiago Calatrava. One of the coolest things about the buildings is that they look completely different when viewed from different angles and heights. There are also three large rectangular ponds within the complex in which one can go rowing, waterbiking, or even waterballing. What's waterballing? Cleo and Spenser are doing it in the video at the bottom. Ian sadly fell asleep and missed all the fun.
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One thing that was in short supply at Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias was shade. We held out as long as we could but eventually the heat sapped our energy and we retired back to the old town for dinner. The touristic center of Valencia is Plaza de la Virgen, a wide open square lined with cafes and restaurants facing the stunning Cathedral de Santa Maria and the Fuente del Turia. This was a good spot to let the kids run around for a bit and soak up some of the pure energy of the old city. This time we didn't find an impromptu late night party and we got to sleep relatively early.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 06:33 Archived in Spain Tagged travel valencia blog tony ciutat_vella ciudad_de_las_artes_y_las_cienc friedman Comments (2)

An Epicurean Odyssey: Arrival and Cuenca


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Sometime after our second or third European road trip, I realized it might be possible for Mei Ling and I to see every part of Europe that we found interesting during our lifetimes. Having a car completely changes the experience of European travel. Everything is within reach as long as there's a road, and there's no need to be limited to cities and sights that are accessible to public transportation. I've already established tentative itineraries that will take us to every country in Europe except for Cyprus and Moldova. When we have a block of time available to travel in Europe I just need to pick the trip that best fits our mood and energy level. This time round I knew we would already be tired from just having dealt with all three kids on a two week trip in New England, so I picked one of the most logistically simple itineraries that would take us through familiar countries with strong tourism infrastructure. The other advantage was that we would be traveling through many of the top food and wine regions in the world on one trip. Since the main focus was going to be culinary I dubbed this trip "The Epicurean Odyssey".

The germ of the itinerary lay in my long desire to visit Galicia, a region of Spain that had always fascinated me for its remoteness and intimate association with the ocean. I had visions of markets laden with endless fish and mollusks, and beautiful views from rocky cliffs at the shoreline. I was also very eager to visit Bordeaux, the only area of southern France we hadn't been to, so the logical plan was to combine both into one road trip. That naturally meant flying into Madrid, which we had visited four years earlier but had loved and vowed to return to. I decided to stretch the trip to five full weeks, which would make it our longest European road trip and allow us to include Valencia and the Dordogne region of France. We had originally planned to stop in Barcelona as well, mainly to go back to the Boqueria and the other central markets, but then realized it was a little foolish to go so far out of our way just for markets when there were so many other cities we hadn't seen.

We took a red eye from Miami to Madrid, which is the ideal way for us to kick things off. The kids are all at an age where they sleep through the night, and being on an airplane doesn't seem to get in the way of that. It also allows me to work the night before we leave and get some sleep during the day. When I'm taking five weeks off I want to work as much as I can up until we leave. The downside is that I don't sleep on planes at all, except for those rare occasions when I can get a whole row to lay down in. I'm used to functioning on little sleep, especially once the adrenalin of beginning a new trip kicks in, so I'm more than willing to suffer that blow in order to hit the ground running when we arrive.

One adjustment that I'd made on this itinerary was giving ourselves a major attraction to anticipate at the very end of the trip. One minor problem we'd had before was that we were only seeing lesser cities and sights in the last few days, which made it difficult to keep the energy going. On this trip we were saving the delights of Madrid for the very end. However, I did time our arrival for Saturday morning so that we could enjoy one of Madrid's many markets before setting off on the road. Our choice was Mercado de la Paz, whose location northeast of the center would facilitate a quick stop before our eastward journey to Cuenca. The logistics didn't turn out as simple as we hoped, thanks to the narrow streets and congested traffic in the busy neighborhood of Salamanca. Once we were finally able to park and made our way back to the market, we instantly recognized it as one we had already visited on our last trip to Madrid four years previously. That wasn't much of a problem though as it was a good market with plenty of food options. It wasn't as large as some other municipal markets but there was little repetition which meant all the major types of food were represented. The quality and presentation were very appetizing as well. For lunch we settled on a small seafood restaurant where the highlight was a casserole of snails in a rich brown broth. It was the type of dish one would be unlikely to find at even the most authentic Spanish restaurant in the US and it made us feel like we had truly arrived in another world.
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I had been a little worried about driving on so little sleep, but as we hit the highway I was feeling highly energized. I had been in Cuenca seventeen years previously, but my memories were hazy and I was looking forward to becoming reacquainted with this unique town. The best part was that we would arrive in the afternoon and still have the whole evening to explore, assuming we could continue fighting off the fatigue. Before long we found ourselves in the fairly nondescript lower part of Cuenca. Like many other central Spanish cities such as Toledo, Cuenca has a disorienting three dimensional layout that is difficult to navigate even with GPS. The old city is located at the top of a narrow ridge between the twin gorges of the Júcar and Huécar rivers. We had some difficulty locating our Airbnb, but eventually found it on a rather drab block about halfway up to the ridge. The apartment itself was fairly dreary as well, located just below the ground level with minimal interior decor and just a single window in the living room. Since we were staying just one night, we had picked the Airbnb for cheapness and convenience, and we were getting pretty much exactly what we paid for.

Once we were settled it was only late afternoon, and there was no question that our best option was to head directly to the old city. One important thing to understand about traveling in Spain in the summer is how late the sunsets are. Despite being at the same longitude as Ireland and England, Spain is on Central European Time rather than Greenwich Mean Time. This was a policy instituted by the dictator Franco during World War II, in order to synchronize with his allies in Nazi Germany. In recent years there's been a movement to move Spain back to Greenwich Mean Time but it's uncertain if that will ever take place. When Spain's discordant time zone is combined with daylight savings time, the result is that sunset doesn't take place until about ten PM. Many people believe the late sunsets are part of the reason for the shift of Spanish meals and nightlife to the later hours. Regardless, when traveling in Spain in the summer it's best to do most sightseeing in the afternoon and early evening when the shops have reopened after siesta and the sun isn't as strong. Expect to have a late dinner and don't plan on being in bed before eleven. It's a dramatic difference from neighboring France where the emphasis is always getting to sleep early, waking up early, and being at the market before nine.
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Cuenca's old city is a no go for cars without special authorization, but there's a good-sized parking garage just below the medieval Torre de Mangana. The clock tower, which was renovated in the 20th century, isn't open to the public and the area around it is unsightly compared to the rest of the old city. However, the square around the tower offers an amazing vantage point over the lower town, the Río Júcar, and the surrounding countryside.
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Cuenca's Plaza Mayor is dominated by the imposing Gothic facade of the Cathedral of Our Lady of Grace and Saint Julian. At the southern end of the plaza is the town hall which straddles the main road, permitting cars to enter through an archway built into the aqueduct-like building. The plaza is a focal point of the old town, lined with cafes and upscale boutiques.
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It's just a short walk from Plaza Mayor to Cuenca's most famous attraction, the Huécar gorge and the unique multistory houses that are built into the limestone walls of the gorge. There used to be many more of these casas colgadas (hanging houses), but only three remain which are now occupied by a museum of abstract art. The houses and their beautiful wooden balconies can be viewed from the cobblestone path that slopes downward to the San Pablo Bridge, or from the bridge itself.
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The San Pablo Bridge is an amazing structure that traverses the Huécar gorge to the enormous Parador de Cuenca, a former convent. The current steel and wood bridge was built at the beginning of the 20th century to replace the 16th century bridge which had collapsed. The bridge itself is beautiful yet seems somewhat precarious with uncomfortably wide gaps in the cross-hatched sidewalls. The kids insisted on joining me as I walked across the bridge but I refused to let go of them for more than a few seconds, which limited my attempts at photography.
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We were probably the first people in the whole town to sit down for dinner, which proved to be a disappointing meal although the al fresco location in a quiet little plaza was enjoyable.
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There was still plenty of light once we'd finished dinner, so we decided to continue on the main street past the cathedral and see what we encountered. There were plenty of little nooks and crannies of the old town to explore, as the sun began to go down and the outdoor restaurants began to fill with customers.
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We eventually found ourselves in front of one of the most highly rated restaurants in Cuenca, and I allowed Mei Ling to persuade me to take us all inside for our second dinner of the night. I can't say the second meal was spectacular, although it was better than the first and left us feeling more satisfied with our culinary experience in Cuenca. The kids were well-behaved which was a relief. Once we left the restaurant the dusk was setting in for real and we made our way back to the car through the eerie glow of the illuminated old buildings.
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I was very pleased with myself for having pushed through fatigue to a normal sleeping time. Hopefully I would find myself acclimated to the new time zone immediately. I haven't really suffered jet lag for many years anyway, since I'm so accustomed to working shifts at all hours of the day and night. Once we arrived back at the Airbnb, I was grateful for the lack of sunlight that I had found depressing at first. There was no air conditioning and the warmth and stuffiness of the apartment were barely tolerable as it was. We fell asleep immediately, but in the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of the older kids whispering and scuffling in the lower bunk beneath me. I snarled at them to go back to sleep but soon realized it was futile, so I took them out to the living room and dropped them in front of the TV, then crawled back to my upper bunk and fell back to sleep. In the morning I was the first one awake and found them sprawled out on the living room floor fast asleep again. For those who have traveled with kids, this was a fairly merciful experience with their jet lag. We let them crash until the bags were in the car and then bundled them into their car seats. Our long evening in Cuenca had left us with nothing else to see in town, which was great because there was so much on the road ahead of us.

Our only other destination in the Cuenca area was the Ciudad Encantada, or Enchanted City. This fancifully-named park contains numerous unusual rock formations sculpted by the action of weather and flowing water over millennia. A common formation is a mushroom-like shape created by erosion of the base of the rock to a narrow column that seems barely strong enough to support the huge mass above it. Of course, all the formations whose columns actually did get too thin crumbled and disappeared, leaving only the ones we can see today. There were also narrow canyons, archways, and caves to explore and marvel at. It was a good way to experience some nature and sunlight on a trip that would mostly be dedicated to cities and markets.
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I had hoped to find a good place for lunch outside of Cuenca, but ultimately we had to drive all the way back into the new town to find a decent restaurant that was open on Sunday. We had an excellent selection of seafood tapas, so the loss of time proved worthwhile. The drive out of the Serranía de Cuenca mountains was filled with scenic overlooks. I pulled over at one stop while everyone else in the car was sleeping just to admire a beautiful display of pottery from a local vendor. The parking lot was packed with people embarking on a hike to what must have been an amazing viewpoint, but I had enough experience traveling with my family to let sleeping dogs lie.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 14:38 Archived in Spain Tagged cuenca Comments (0)

North from NYC: The Berkshires and New York City


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We were still woozy from our huge lunch at Montréal's Atwater Market when we retrieved Mei Ling's mother from the motel in Plattsburgh. She seemed to have weathered three days in solitary none the worse for wear. Soon afterwards, we stopped at Ausable Chasm for a quick look at the canyon and the waterfall. There's plenty of trails and hikes available with an option for rafting or tubing at the bottom, but it wasn't an option with young kids.
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We didn't stop again until we reached Great Barrington, in the Berkshires area of Western Massachusetts. We were more interested in the Lenox area to the north, but during my search for an Airbnb I came across a place that I couldn't resist. It was a genuine log cabin with a second-story deck and a stone fireplace. Despite its rustic appearance, it was very modern and comfortable on the inside and everyone loved it.
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Great Barrington didn't feel as exclusive as I expected from the Berkshires, perhaps because it was a little to the south of the most affluent areas of Lenox and Stockbridge. The town itself was tiny with most of the restaurants being clustered in a single area near the main road. We took the two older kids to Cafe Adam, the best upscale restaurant in the area, and had an excellent dinner at the only table on the front patio.
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The next morning we drove to Lenox and just beat the rush at a very popular brunch restaurant. We checked out a local toy store and a couple of boutiques but we were eager to get on to the day's main event and then proceed to our favorite city in the world, NYC.
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The most well-known sight in Lenox is The Mount, the former residence of the turn-of-the-century American novelist Edith Wharton. Wharton helped to design and oversaw construction of the grand mansion herself, and it was where she completed most of the works she is best known for. This summer, the estate was hosting a sculpture exhibition which added a surreal quality to the thickly-wooded grounds.
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The gardens were gorgeous and very well-maintained, rivaling some of the most beautiful estates in Europe. The best part was that I didn't have to watch the kids' every move to be sure they weren't about to destroy some precious artifact.
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The same couldn't be said about the mansion itself. We eschewed the tour and ushered our manic brood through the elegant home as quickly as we could before enjoying drinks and sorbet at the cafe on the terrace. I ordered a glass of wine for Mei Ling and our waitress told us we were welcome to drink the rest of the bottle, which was still half full. We must have looked like we needed it.
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Driving back through Lenox on our way to the main road, we encountered a small girl with a lemonade stand at the curb in front of her house. It was too small town America to ignore, so we pulled over and I bought a Dixie cup of lemonade for the rather obscene price of five dollars. I was also offered the opportunity to buy one of her tiny Play-Doh versions of vegetables for a dollar, which I felt too guilty to refuse. The lemonade was actually an artificially-sweetened drink mix which I poured out discreetly once I got back to the driver's side of the car, and one of the kids immediately rolled the Play-Doh into a pea which was more recognizable as a vegetable than what the little girl had given me. During the whole interaction, there was no sign whatsoever of any parent despite the fact that the girl couldn't have been more than seven and had her stand right at the curb. I couldn't imagine leaving Cleo out on her own in that kind of situation, even in an upscale area, where anyone could drive by in a minivan and snatch her away in a second. Different parenting styles, I suppose, or maybe I'm just paranoid.

For a few years, Airbnb was an amazing deal in NYC given the insane price of hotels. However, it seems that hosts have now wised up and the price of accommodation has risen to meet demand. Increasing restrictions from landlords and condo boards has also probably chilled the supply. We had hoped to stay in Midtown but the prices for two bedroom apartments were crazy, so we settled on East Harlem instead. When I was growing up in New York City in the 80's this was a pretty bad area, but like many other places it's been gentrified and is now a relatively safe, colorful, and diverse neighborhood. The main negative was the distance from downtown Manhattan, but we were planning to spend most of our time in Midtown and Queens anyway. Once we arrived, I realized parking was going to be a major issue so we made a spur of the moment decision to return the minivan early. Aside from the parking concerns, the La Guardia auto rental agencies are separated from the airport itself by two shuttles which totally negates the convenience of returning the car at the airport. We decided to drive to our favorite place to eat in NYC, the food court at New World Mall, before returning the car. There we met up with my college roommate George and his wife and enjoyed a huge and delicious selection of dishes from the most appetizing stalls.
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The car dropoff was an exhausting experience, mainly because the first Uber driver we called came and left without us. We were waiting inside the agency office and he called us from outside the gate. We asked him to come inside the lot and pick us up at the office but instead he took off and collected a no-show payment. In order to prevent the next guy from doing the same thing, we had to walk out to the gate and sit on the sidewalk until he showed up. Of course, the second Uber driver had trouble locating the agency and I watched him circle the area three or four times before I was finally able to flag him down. The car-free portion of our trip wasn't beginning auspiciously. However, it was good to get to our Airbnb and walk straight in without having to hunt for a parking place.

In the morning, we split into two groups. Mei Ling, her Mom and Spenser went to meet up with some of her old work friends and I took Cleo and Ian to the American Museum of Natural History. I hadn't been there since my own childhood, and I had eagerly anticipated taking my own kids there and reacquainting myself with old memories of field trips and scavenger hunts. In retrospect, I may have rushed it because I think the kids only got about a quarter of what I hoped they would out of the visit. It didn't help that the museum was absolutely packed despite it being a Monday morning, probably because it was early in the summer vacation season. They spent more time chasing each other around and disappearing into the crowds than they did perusing the exhibitions, although they did seem to enjoy the more interactive exhibits.
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We walked back to the East Side through Central Park, but it had become quite hot outside while we were in the museum and the Belvedere Castle turned out to be closed for renovations. I noticed an amazing skyscraper to the south of the park that was the only building visible over the treeline. It turned out to be 432 Park Ave, which had been completed in 2015 and was now the tallest residential building in the Western hemisphere. I don't think that when I was a kid I could have imagined that one day it would be possible to live in an apartment where you could look down on the top of the Empire State Building. The building's relative skinniness and the lack to buildings of similar size around it make it seem even taller. The ultramodern gridlike design gives the skyscraper a surreal beauty that has made it an instant NYC landmark.
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The kids were overheated and irritable after the walk through the park, so I decided to cab it back to the Airbnb and let them rest until it was time to head downtown for the evening. We had timed our visit to coincide with the wedding of one of Mei Ling's co-workers, and the reception was being held in Chinatown. We took the subway all the way downtown and then waited in the crowded ballroom about two hours before the actual reception started. The kids had some fun up on the stage, but by the time things were over the stores outside had all closed and we weren't able to enjoy Chinatown at all.
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The next day we spent the morning in Greenwich Village, one of the few downtown neighborhoods I'd never taken Mei Ling. We had an enjoyable morning strolling around before we ended up at Washington Square Park. The park had undergone an impressive facelift since the last time I'd visited, which must have been more than ten years ago. The hard dirt and concrete were mostly gone, replaced by lawns and a pleasantly-contoured children's playground. Young people and families were sprawled around the grass, seemingly having forgiven the park for its recent history as a haven for vagrants and drug addicts.
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For our last evening in New York City and the finale of the road trip, we'd bought tickets to the Spongebob SquarePants musical on Broadway. It seemed like a great way to introduce the kids to live theater and the reviews were great. I hadn't seen a Broadway show since I was a kid, and it would be the first time for Mei Ling. Once we were inside, what struck me immediately was how many adults were there unaccompanied by children. Of course, there were more kids than one might expect at the usual Broadway show but nowhere near as many as I anticipated. I guess nostalgia is a powerful motivator, but I would never have chosen to go to a musical based on a kids' TV show if I wasn't bringing my children. The show came off pretty well, thanks to the talent and enthusiasm of the actors. One of the best decisions the creators made was not having the actors hide themselves in elaborate and bulky animal costumes, but rather have clothing items and a hairstyle that evoked their characters. Mr. Krabs wore oversize boxing gloves that really looked like claws, Squidward had pants with an extra set of legs, and SpongeBob himself just wore suspenders with pants that were too short and revealed his striped socks. On the other hand, the musical pieces were a little disappointing without any numbers as memorable as The Campfire Song or The Best Day Ever. After the show, we spilled out onto Broadway which is truly an amazing and overwhelming sight at night.
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There was too much energy in the air for us to just call it a night, so we took an hour to wander around Times Square and then a little bit of Midtown, including Rockefeller Center. We tried the obligatory pushcart sausages and pretzels, and marveled at the enormous buildings and elaborate decorative displays that were ubiquitous in the area. As much as I love the ethnic and artistic culture of Downtown, it's really Midtown that embodies the magic and majesty of New York City the best.
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In the morning we had one last view of 432 Park Avenue from across the river in Queens on our way to the airport. Mei Ling was speculating that if we decided to retire in New York City we might one day live in that building, but a quick look online revealed that the cheapest studio apartment was four million. It was a healthy reminder that even though travel makes us feel like Masters of the Universe, we're just little fish in a place like NYC. On the positive side, we only had to face a three hour flight back home to Miami. Even if NYC isn't affordable for us right now, it's good to know we can come back as often as we want.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 04:24 Archived in USA Comments (0)

North from NYC: Montréal


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Just as with China, we seemed to be making a habit of having a new kid every time we visited Canada. First was Toronto, when Cleo was just three months old. Then we took Cleo and Ian to Vancouver, and now we were on our way to Montréal with all three of them. My research had made me super excited about this part of our trip, mainly because it seemed like there was a great mix of ethnic cultures, diverse neighborhoods, and an abundance of European-style produce markets. The last time I'd been in Montréal was twenty years earlier on a work trip, long before I developed a genuine interest in travel, so this was essentially a first visit for all of us.

Our arrival was undistinguished, thanks to a steady rain that contributed to one of the worst traffic experiences we've had in our travels. I don't know what the traffic's like on a regular basis, but if that was a typical weekday afternoon I feel sorry for anyone who has to drive to work there. It took us an hour to get to our Airbnb even after we'd reached the outskirts of the city. Mercifully the kids slept through the entire process. I don't know what we'd have done if one of them had woken up and clamored for the bathroom while we were in gridlock. It was still raining hard when we arrived and the only spot available was illegal, so it took some maneuvering to get everyone indoors without getting soaked or getting a parking ticket. Once I found a legal spot and walked back to the apartment, I found it was one of the nicest Airbnb's we'd ever stayed at. Aside from being freshly renovated and immaculately clean, the place was full of character with brick walls and hardwood floors. The kids bedrooms and family rooms had a nice lived-in feel with plenty of toys to play with. I'd chosen the Mile End neighborhood carefully for its central location and heavy concentration of restaurants. Our block had a very cozy, residential feel with dense trees nearly concealing the rows of brick townhouses from the street. On our corner was an enormous church with a very distinctive style including a very Byzantine-appearing cupola and minaret, that I concluded must be Eastern Orthodox. When I had time to look it up I found that it was actually the Roman Catholic Church of St. Michael and St. Anthony, whose architect was inspired by the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.
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Given the difficulty of finding parking in the area, using the car again that evening was out of the question. Of course, there were plenty of restaurants within walking distance and we settled on a Japanese ramen restaurant a few blocks away. There was a long bar and only a couple of tables in the narrow restaurant but fortunately one at the back was just coming open and they shoehorned us all in. The ramen was delicious and we all ate ravenously.
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The plan for our first morning was to explore the largest daily produce market in Montréal, Marché Jean-Talon, in the Little Italy neighborhood. We probably could have walked from our Airbnb, but the spring rain had started up again and it's tough to keep three wandering kids dry with two umbrellas. The first order of business was breakfast, and we quickly found the food court at the back of the market where we assuaged our hunger with noodle soups and spring rolls at a Vietnamese restaurant.
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We hung around for another hour in the market, admiring the colorful displays of fruits, vegetables, meats, and fresh seafood. One of my biggest disappointments living in the United States is that this covered market culture doesn't seem to exist anywhere. People don't seem to realize that there's any other option besides supermarkets. At least the quality and variety of what we get here is good, but the atmosphere of a real market can't be imitated.
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I'd hoped the sun would have come up by the time we finished with the market, but it was still rainy and chilly by the time we got downtown to the Vieux Montréal area. Naturally, we weren't going to let that stop us so we grabbed our umbrellas and raincoats and explored Montréal's most touristy neighborhood. The streets around Place Jacques-Cartier were very atmospheric despite the preponderance of tacky restaurants and souvenir shops. Just a couple of blocks from the center and perhaps thanks to the rain, we had the beautifully-landscaped blocks of stately stone buildings to ourselves.
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For lunch we drove all the way to the northern Maissoneuve area for its namesake market, which we found to be much smaller than Jean Talon and almost empty. The seedy nature of the surrounding area probably contributed to the lack of patronage. The market had moved from its grand Beaux Arts home to a smaller, modern building in 1995 but we made sure to get a picture of the original location which is now a community center. We put together a light meal that was anchored by a plate of succulent oysters.
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We drove back south along Rue Sherbrooke, the "Broadway of Montréal", until we reached McGill University. We parked and strolled a little way down the busy street and took a peek inside the university campus.
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We drove around the beautiful streets that surrounded the university, admiring the classical architecture of the mansions and academic buildings. The streets were starting to get choked with rush hour traffic but we didn't mind the slow pace of the drive. We decided to head all the way back downtown to look for a place to eat in Chinatown. It was still early, but we hadn't eaten much at Maissoneuve and were looking forward to a good Chinese meal. Montréal's Chinatown was OK, but not anywhere near the level of the ones in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Boston, or San Francisco. We had trouble finding a restaurant whose menu we liked, but eventually Mei Ling found an outpost of a mainland Chinese hotpot chain she knew and we had a decent if unremarkable dinner.
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We weren't expecting the relatively small Atwater Market to blow away Jean Talon, but it turned out to be the best market we'd ever visited in the US and Canada combined. The market is adjacent to the Lachine Canal which traverses the southwestern part of the Island of Montréal. The first thing we encountered was the outdoor food court, so we had a solid breakfast of satay and other freshly-cooked delicacies before even venturing into the market. The produce displays in the outdoor section were even prettier than at Jean Talon, and we bought as much fruit as we could eat.
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Once we entered the indoor section of the market, we regretted not having left ourselves any room for more food. The butcher stalls were phenomenal, and there was plenty of mouth-watering prepared food at the many delis. There was also an enormous bakery and coffee shop from which the warm smell of freshly-baked baguettes wafted temptingly. We resolved to return the next day before leaving Montréal and reluctantly took our departure.
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Most visitors' initial impression of Mont Royal Park is the George-Étienne Cartier Monument, which celebrates the respected statesman's contributions to the formation of the nation of Canada as an Anglo-French confederation. The prominent position of the "angel statue" on the major thoroughfare of Park Avenue has led to it becoming emblematic of the city. We entered the park close to the statue and drove up to the overlook, where we enjoyed panoramic views of the city and took the short hike to the summit.
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The Oratoire Saint-Joseph was on the bubble of my list of sights, as we usually don't make special efforts to visit churches and cathedrals, but we were making decent time so we decided to make the short drive from Mont Royal Park. As it turned out, it was a spectacular building and it would have been a shame to have missed it. Despite the unassuming appellation of "oratory", which usually describes a small chapel, Oratoire Saint-Joseph has been enlarged multiple times since its original construction and now boasts one of the largest church domes in the world. Coupled with its hilltop location, the church has an incredibly imposing and majestic appearance. There are several levels of terraces and balconies from which one can look out onto the well-manicured grounds and the attractive residential neighborhood of Côte-des-Neiges.
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Côte-des-Neiges is well-known for all kinds of Asian and Caribbean restaurants so we drove from the Oratory down Rue Côte-des-Neiges and eventually selected Poisssonerie, a Middle Eastern fish market and restaurant where we chose our own fish from the market to be grilled for lunch.
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I have a soft spot for botanical gardens when we travel, so we schlepped back up to the northern part of the city to visit Jardin Botanique de Montréal. The long walk from the street to the botanical garden features the Montreal Tower in the background, which is the tallest inclined structure in the world.
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The botanical garden was divided into special areas with Chinese, Japanese, Alpine, aquatic and other themes, each with its own individual kind of beauty. There were also some interesting trunk-like play structures that the kids loved.
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We got out of the Botanical Garden just as it was closing and drove to the last place on my list of Montréal sights, Square Saint-Louis. The square is famous for the brightly-painted Victorian row houses, of which photos will be found in any Montréal guidebook. Here's our obligatory version of the ubiquitous photograph.
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We let the kids stretch their legs in the park that occupied the square and enjoyed lemonade and games in one of the many cafes on nearby Rue St. Denis.
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Walking south from the square, we found ourselves on a pedestrianized street with busy outdoor cafes. We followed the sound of music to what turned out to be an enormous street party on Boulevard Saint-Laurent. There were numerous food stalls, which rendered any search for a restaurant for the evening unnecessary. The kids had tons of fun dancing and participating in sports contests they had absolutely no chance of success in. There was also a breakdancing crew featuring a dancer with just one leg, which was a first for me.
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It was amazing what we had accomplished in just two days in Montréal. We had been just as busy as we had been in great European cities like Rome and Barcelona, and we felt that we had experienced a truly world-class city. We decided that Montréal was our new favorite city in Canada, and resolved to return for a longer stay. We still had one last reward for ourselves for our hard work touring the city, which was a decadent feast at the indoor gourmet food hall at Atwater Market on our final morning in Montréal. We carefully selected a warm, fragrant baguette, a sizable hunk of foie gras, a wheel of chèvre, and some green olives and stuffed ourselves to groggy oblivion. We stocked up with fresh fruit and Lego candy for the long drive ahead of us and headed back towards the border.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 10:04 Archived in Canada Comments (0)

North from NYC: Central and Northern Vermont


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Our Airbnb in Bridgewater, Vermont was one of the more unusual places we've stayed. There hadn't been anything available in Woodstock, the main town in the area, so I picked the closest house about ten miles east. The road the house was on turned out to be a steep and winding gravel drive that led up the mountainside directly off the highway. I was a little nervous about the weight of our car with its occupants but the minivan navigated the slope without any difficulty. The house was a lodge-style building whose bottom floor was being renovated, and we had the entire upper floor to ourselves. There wasn't another house in sight, only trees. The interior was decent except for the fact that electricity was only working on one side of the house. Apparently the contractors had done something to disrupt the power supply to the other side while doing the renovations below.
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After dropping off our bags, we headed straight for the Quechee Gorge. A receding glacier cut this canyon into the earth thirteen thousand years ago, and now it's one of the most impressive natural sights in New England. We parked outside the little cluster of tourist shops on the far side of the gorge that calls itself Quechee Gorge Village and walked back to the bridge on Route 4 for the views.
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We took a short walk down one of the trails to the bottom of the gorge, but decided not to overdo it considering we had a dinner reservation not too far off. The kids enjoyed the chance to stretch their legs and see some nature. Back at Quechee Gorge Village we checked out the souvenirs and tasted some liqueurs that were made locally from maple syrup and black currants.
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The next morning we had a classic New England breakfast at Mon Vert Cafe in Woodstock before heading over to the Vermont Institute of Natural Science. Despite its intimidating name, VINS is a very friendly outdoor raptor rehabilitation center with extensive nature trails. We had an hour to kill before the next raptor show so we explored one of the shorter trails, which was still a good workout for the kids. They made enough noise that we were guaranteed not to see any wildlife larger than a beetle.
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The kids weren't enthralled with the raptor show, although I enjoyed the rare opportunity to see these beautiful and powerful birds up close. The kids preferred the part at the end where they got to handle the disassembled parts of the birds that ultimately hadn't made it.
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In the afternoon we took the kids to Billings Farm, a working dairy farm with plenty of large animals as well as an impressive museum of American farming. Unsurprisingly, the kids were most impressed by the ongoing bodily functions of the cows and the corresponding odors.
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The next morning we stopped briefly at Simon Pearce, a boutique glassblowing studio and restaurant on the bank of the Ottauquechee River. The site was once a mill, and until recently the furnaces operated using hydroelectric power generated by the original dam and waterfall. The restaurant is perched over the waterfall with a view of a classic Vermont covered bridge.
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On the way out of the Quechee area we visited the Montshire Museum of Science, which had enough exhibits and activities to keep kids entertained for hours. We only planned a short stop but the kids were having so much fun that we ended up staying most of the afternoon.
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En route to Burlington we crossed the Lincoln Gap Road , which traverses the Green Mountain range. It has a reputation for being the most scenic of the roads that pass through the mountains, but honestly there wasn't much to see from the road itself although it was a pleasant winding drive. The best time to drive the road is probably in September and early October when the leaves are changing and before the road closes for the winter season. I was amazed by the number of houses on the gap and wondered how their inhabitants survive through the winter when the snow piles up and the road is closed. I learned later that the road is only closed to non-residents and is actually plowed regularly.

Burlington is a pretty small city but after the tiny towns we'd visited over the last few days it seemed positively cosmopolitan. We passed the attractive, sprawling campus of the University of Vermont and arrived in the Old North End. Our Airbnb was the upper level of a fairly nondescript two-story house with an outdoor staircase.
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It was Cleo's actual birthday and we decided to mark the occasion at Burlington's best known restaurant Hen of the Wood. We'd already had her birthday party in Miami before we left, but those kids' parties are so frenetic there was no opportunity for us to sit back and reflect on everything that had changed in the six years since she was born. We had a good meal in the cheerful bistro, although there wasn't anything on the menu that was particularly unique. It was nice to have a little time to focus on Cleo while her exasperating little brothers were at the Airbnb with their Grandma.

We had a full slate of activities for our day in Burlington. After a classic Vermont blueberry pancake brunch we drove half an hour to Waterbury for the semi-obligatory Ben and Jerry's tour. As I expected, it was underwhelming although the kids had fun. The highlight for me was making the tour guide squirm by asking if there were any plans for a Donald Trump-themed flavor. Perhaps Orange Cheesecake?
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Next up was Shelburne Farms, our second farm in three days. The visit began with a wagon ride across a surreal landscape of tightly cropped grass dotted with cylindrical hay bales. The main building looked more like a Gothic castle than a farm.
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There was a lot more hands on activity for the kids at Shelburne Farms than at the farm in Woodstock. There were donkeys to brush, chickens to feed, and plenty of old farm equipment in the spacious barn.
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We had to rush back to Burlington to drop off Spenser with Grandma, as he was too young for our afternoon sailboat cruise on Lake Champlain. The Friend Ship was operated by the Whistling Man Schooner Company, although technically it was a sloop rather than a schooner because it had only one mast. The friendly captain gave Ian a quizzical look and asked us how old he was. I couldn't remember what the minimum age had been when I'd booked, so I quickly said he was five before Cleo could answer, even though he was still a couple of months short of his fifth birthday. Cleo gave me a quizzical glance and I looked daggers at her, and fortunately she had the presence of mind to keep her mouth closed. The captain said something to the effect of Ian just making the age limit and we set off.

We spent the next two hours enjoying a peaceful sail on Lake Champlain, enjoying the banter and interesting stories of our captain. I learned that rather than flowing south into the Hudson River, Lake Champlain actually drains into the St. Lawrence river which takes an unusual northerly course to the Atlantic. The kids clambered up onto the roof of the cabin and I watched them nervously expecting them to be chucked into the ocean by a sudden swing of the boom, but fortunately they kept their heads down and made it back to the dock with us. Sad to say, there were no sightings of Champ, Lake Champlain's answer to the Loch Ness monster.
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We went straight to dinner at a surprisingly good Moroccan restaurant at the southern end of pedestrianized Church Street. After dinner we slowly walked the four blocks north to the Unitarian church that gives the street its name, taking in a colorful array of street performers, local characters, and sculpture.
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We couldn't bring Grandma into Canada because of visa issues so we'd arranged a hotel for her in Plattsburgh, NY for the three days the rest of us would be in Montreal. The Plattsburgh stop gave us a reason to cross Lake Champlain via South Hero island, the most heavily settled of the three populated Lake Champlain islands. Most Americans aren't aware of the existence of these unusual, remote lake islands but aside from their rural charm they also have great historical importance as Revolutionary War battlegrounds. We had a very enjoyable drive over the causeway to the island and then through empty country roads to Snow Farm, a vineyard and winery at the southwestern corner of the island. Just before we reached the island, we noticed colorful birdhouses starting to appear on the trees on the inland side of the road. More and more appeared and eventually we passed a thicket where it seemed like there was a birdhouse attached to every single tree. We stopped the car for a closer inspection and saw the little wood was also populated with very lifelike dinosaur models. We drove on further and eventually found a sign explaining the reason for the birdhouses, along with an array of birdhouses for sale via an honor system. We didn't get a good picture of the birdhouse forest, so I scraped one from the New York Times.
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We were the only visitors at the winery, but we were attended to very pleasantly and enjoyed a tasting flight. I was a little confused as the grape varietals listed for the red wines had completely unfamiliar names such as Baco Noir and Catawba. Later I learned that they are hybrids which are grown to make wine pretty much exclusively in the northeastern US and Canada. The splendid isolation of the little winery and vineyard on that overcast day in the Lake Champlain islands is one of my best memories from the trip.
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We took the car ferry from South Hero to Plattsburgh and dropped Grandma off at her hotel with three days of food supplies. We didn't have much in the way of expectations for lunch in Plattsburgh, but TripAdvisor led us to Anthony's, a surprisingly upscale and authentic French bistro where we had one of the best restaurant meals of the trip. During our lunch, Cleo asked me why I'd told the boat captain that Ian was five when he was still only four. That led to a very frank discussion about how sometimes people do lie when they're sure that no one will be hurt because of it. I used the example of when your friend asks you if you like her new dress, and you say that you do even though you think it's ugly. As we were finishing our lunch, an elderly lady came over to the table and told us she overheard our conversation with Cleo. Here we go, I thought, preparing myself for a stern New England lecture on child-rearing. But as it turned out, the woman wanted to tell us she was a retired schoolteacher and strongly approved of the way we taught Cleo about life's little realities. Go figure.

We paid our compliments to the chef and piled back into the car, excited for our next stop in Montréal.

Posted by zzlangerhans 06:32 Archived in USA Tagged vermont quechee_gorge woodstock burlington mad_river_valley Comments (0)

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