Paris. Ooh la la.

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We Will Always Have Paris.

This elegant town has completely swept me off my feet. Surprised me with her rosy charms. Beckoned me with her delicious cwah-sohn, Bordeaux and macaroons. Teased me with her tales of fallen kingdoms and juicy jewels. She won me over almost instantly. It must be all that stained glass. I can't believe how good it felt to fall in love with dainty Paris. You always hear that this town is so ooh-la-la andfrou-frou and chic, but ugh, I am generally skeptical of such places. I figured Paris would be dirty, cheesy and touristy, riding on the hype of a romantic apparition from looong ago. You could say my expectation barometer was set sort of low.

I wasn't just wrong. I need to be slapped.

Because Paris. Is. Exceptional.

// Notre Dame. Minus Quasimodo. //

// Notre Dame. And Joan of Arc. //

Bonjour, Cherie.

This place still feels like a village. Strolling through the picturesque district of Montmarte (where we stayed for 3 nights), there are countless shops and cafes spilling out onto the sidewalk in bustling brilliance. These fine establishments create a makeshift office for a whole host of artists and writers, supplying them with a place to work at the mere price of a caffeinated (and sometimes spiked) beverage. You can tell these creative nomads by the beret, the poised pen, the faraway pondering expression and the third miniature cup and saucer of espresso with it's equally precious little spoon. Chanel-red lipstick, cigarette smoke and unshaven beards, these are the tell-tale signs of culture created long ago. Nameless cafes boast their role as the creative breeding ground for the likes of Picasso, Hemingway, Van Gogh, Monet, Dali... the list goes on and on. The crispy wonder is magnetic in this chilly village air. You can feel it, almost breathing. There are still stories to be told, beauty to be eloquently captured, light to be sparked. Paris is inviting, welcoming you into its odd family of bohemian 1920's-era addicts. There is no application, no entry fee, no need to apply. Just arrive. There is truly enough inspiration (and espresso) for us all.

// The Seine. Cue this jam. Because I had it stuck in my head during the entire Paris trip. Ridiculous, I know. //

// The works of Leonardo da Vinci. I have no idea why I was allowed to photograph these masterpieces, but I was. Thank you, dear Louvre. //

// The insane crowd surrounding a serene, sarcastic Mona Lisa. //

// Cheese and wine at noon at the Moulin de la Galette. Yes. //

Our Meandering Route.

Over the course of three days we wandered along the Seine, exploring Notre Dame, the Sainte-Chapelle, and la Conciergerie (where the guillotine had it's way.) One quick, craaaazy story about the Notre Dame: Back when Rome was in power and Christians were being persecuted, Saint Denis was beheaded as a warning to others who were forsaking the Roman gods. Immediately following his beheading, Saint Denis picked up his head (say WHAT?), tucked it under his arm and headed north, preaching the gospel along the way, pausing only to wash his head off in a fountain, and continuing until he found a place where he finally laid himself to rest. Seriously. That's how the story goes. The Parisians were so impressed by this miracle that Christianity continued to gain ground (despite being under Rome's annoying thumb) and eventually the pagan temple was replaced by the church, Notre Dame. I am not kidding. You can see St. Denis in this lineup of Saint statues on the entryway to the church.

// I bet you can guess which one is Denis. //

// We got locked to the bridge! //

// Locking my love to the Pont de l'Archevêché. Just like the Kardashians. //

// Two keys. We both threw one in. A crowd of school children standing nearby cheered us on. Seriously.//

Oh so Bon.

We delighted in crepes in the Latin Quarter, nibbled on wine and cheese in St. Germain and noshed on macaroons along the Champs-Elysees. Stevie liked to say, “We chomp on the Champs.” Actually he rapped it. Sort of loudly. We gave Paris a true impression of 'Mericanism. We visited the Deportation Memorial, the Place Dauphine, and locked our love to the Pont de l'Archevêché. We toured the Louvre, strolled through the Tuileries Gardens, marveled at Napoleon's Arc de Triomphe and enjoyed a final French meal with 15 of Stevie's newly-graduated classmates who all just happened to be in Paris at the same time. Of course.

// Pont Alexandre III. This bridge is as gold as it gets. //

// From Left to Right: The Louvre // Something awesomely french // Eiffel Tower// Notre Dame exterior // Venus de Milo// Our view from Montmarte// An extremely french door // Arc de Triomphe// Notre Dame interior //

// Lots of love in front of Notre Dame//

Encore.

Am I missing something? Yes, the Eiffel Tower. We left our dinner party in a mad rush, begging our taxi driver to get us to the Trocadero district before midnight so that we could see the Tower sparkle before the lights went out. And we made it! And then made out.

Because that's what you do in Paris at the Eiffel Tower at midnight.

Yes, we are completely cheesy in Paris. Okay this town has totally gotten to me.

// The Eiffel Tower along the Seine. This is as Parisian as it gets. //

Meet Me At Midnight from Kristen Hale on Vimeo.

Can you sense our enthusiasm? Paris, I'm coming back for you. And your 5-story Louis Vuitton flagship store. In this case, parting is incredibly sweet sorrow.

Au revoir!

Madrid and Salamanca: Hot, Happy Anniversary.

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So Happy.

Our anniversary was so hot, we never left the hotel room.

Allow me to elaborate. My husband and I celebrated our 6-year wedding anniversary on June 23rd. It  was so hot because we were both running fevers, and we never left the hotel room because we both contracted a flu bug.

Awesome. No, really, this is awesome. This is why I paid thousands of dollars to visit this amazing country and experience my Spanish heritage in action. NOT.

Commemorate in Epic Proportions.

Seriously. So steamy hot. We were guzzling way-out-of-the-budget Spanish bottled water like it was a lifeline. Yet somehow it mazed it's way down our chins and emptied into a sweaty pool on the flimsy hotel mattress. Sick. We groaned. Occasionally we changed it up and we moaned. Our muscles throbbed with the flu. Every time I looked over at Stevie, his lifeless body draped across the sweaty bed covers, his glazed sick eyes met mine in harmonious misery. We know how to party.

Eurosick.

How did this happen? Well, I'd like to blame it on the hellish 9-hour night train we took from Barcelona to Madrid (where Stevie spent most of this joyful ride resurrecting his dinner), but I don't really know if that's a fair reason. We had been traveling for three weeks straight, spending most of our time in public places. We were bound to come in contact with grimy germs at some point. And to add insult to injury, we'd been touring continuously for about 15 hours per day on very little sleep, so I guess our immune systems weren't exactly been thrilled with us. We just weren't prepared for this madness to happen. Who gets the flu in June? And what kind of couple gets it at the exact same time?! ON THEIR ANNIVERSARY??? Disgusting. I'm disgusted with everything.

For those of you who have been following our Euro trip, you might have been thinking it's been all sunshine and rainbows. To be honest, I had been thinking that, too. It's been a dream. Well, the trip has come to a crashing halt and I cannot kick myself enough for not packing more meds. And hand sanitizer. WE NEED NYQUIL!!! Stupid Spanish farmacias. I can't understand any of the labels.

This is Spain. We're supposed to be out touring. Painting things red. Sampling tapas in the Plaza Mayor and inspecting Velazquez's famous works like the Las Meninas at the Prado. Instead, we took turns rubbing each other's backs and praying for the torture to end, begging for this to only be a 24-hour bug.

So like I said, it was hot. One hot day followed by one incredibly hot night. And then another bonus hot day. How lucky. In the famed words of Miss Peggy Lee, “he gives me fever.” Great. Marvelous. Thanks for the reminder of all the wonders men can give us, Peg.

I guess I'll have to explore Madrid another year. I'm sure my Aunt Shirley will be thrilled to hear how marvelously we spent our time in one of her favorites cities.

Here's to chugging OJ in a Madrid hotel room for two days straight. And seeing nothing but its airport and train station. Not gonna lie, I am happy to say Hasta Luego, Espana.

Barcelona.

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Calling All Artists.

Oh Barcelona, you are so saucy and so much FUN. If you need a place of inspiration, a playground for your craft, or simply a place to relax and have a good ol' time, Barcelona is the place. As my intro to Spain, I could not have been more pleasantly surprised at the awesomeness of this city. Barcelona is eclectic, doesn't take itself too seriously, and celebrates its charming, over-the-top bohemian vibe. The skyline is like a cartoon, characterized by it's willowy modern architecture and tropical waterfront. We spent the day strolling down the Ramblas, munching on paella and seafood tapas and wandering in and out of artisan shops. I fell in love with Barcelona, which was the most pleasant of surprises.

// We juiced up. //

// Sagrada Familia Basilica //

Cathedral Hunger.

The crowning glory of this town is (in my opinion), the Sagrada Familia Basilica, which is an epic church on the edge of town that was designed by Antoni Gaudi  himself. This is the first cathedral-type church that I've been in that I felt like I could actually attend. Like for church. In fact, I wanted to sign up to become a member right there on the spot. And it's not just because I'm churchy. I'm really not that churchy. It's just that I've never been in a church that embraced and invested in such a radical display of artistry (and for those of you who don't know, I've attended some super cool, uber radical, artsy Jesus institutions, so that's saying quite a lot.) But this building was the most incredible work of top-to-bottom creativity, completely free of religious pretension and creepy omen-art. You could call it a modern design, but that just does not do it justice. When I think of modern design, I think of Ikea, and that just cheapens how I mean to describe this monumental structure. It was like a fantasy land out of Star Wars. Plus Jesus. AKA THE DREAM. Well, it's missing Yoshi, but that's about it. Sheesh I can't even talk anymore about it. Everyone must visit and see.

// Inside this crazy cathedral //

// La Rambla //

Pab.

We visited the Picasso Museum, which was a ridiculous amount of fun and super educating. I had no idea how classically trained and talented Pablo Picasso truly was. His early work was completely traditional, characterized by spot-on portraiture and impressionist-style landscapes. Absolutely lovely; I think his early work is sorely underrated. His art radically changed as he spent more time in Paris in his mid-late 20's, which is when we begin to see his use of stark colors and bold shapes that ultimately defined his body of work as we know it today. This museum is so great. I've never appreciated his work as much as I do now, after walking through and seeing the transition in his lifetime of creativity. I have to admit, I surprised myself by falling in love with his Dovetail series (also called Les Pigeones), which are some of the last pieces he ever painted. Divine. I might have snagged a few prints while I was there. Not exactly in the budget.

Give Me More!

One day in Barcelona is stupidly too little. We were disappointed to get on our night train to Madrid and leave the sparkle of this city behind. Our day was like an appetizer (or tapa, if you will!), but it just gave me a hunger to return to Spain in the future, armed with more time and less agenda. This is a city you purposely get lost in. It begs you to visit, stay a while and deliciously appreciate the come-as-you-are vibe.

Takeaways from Italy

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Arreviderci, Italia.

It is, sadly, our last day in Italy. I've been trying not to mourn since I woke up this morning. Italy has been the most amazing country of my life. I wanted to buy all the girls in my family loads of handmade pottery from the town markets. I wanted to bring back my parents and Stevie's parents bottle after bottle of wine. I wanted to buy all my bros sweet gear from the leather marts. But I could never carry home (or afford!) such extravagantly enormous presents. We have two weeks left of our trip and my bag is already heavy, sadly, with mostly dirty laundry. Although, leaving this land of fine wine empty-handed is also making me regretfully sad. My optimistic side keeps telling me that it's just another reason to plan a second trip.

My Takeaways from Italy:

// OH MY GOD THE FOOD.

// The Culture - There is so much. Culture. That like, formed the world. And society as we know it.
 Minor details. Major footprints.

// The Art - Oh, the art. Sculpting is some kind of psychedelic lost art. Now I feel like I have a much better appreciation for the Renaissance. Especially for my new main squeeze Michelangelo. So much creativity was embraced during the Renaissance. I would love a revival of that in my lifetime. So all you prodigies out there. Hop to it, k?

// The Beverages - Wine, limoncello, and sparkly water. It's just ridiculously yumm. Way to complement a meal.

// The Lifestyle – I love the whole “Dolce Vita” attitude. It is a very sweet, slow, celebratory life culture. I could really get into adopting this. Oh wait. Already checked that one off the list.

// The Language - It's very tangible to me. Maybe it's from taking Spanish. Or maybe its from taking Italian. Or maybe it's for having Italian drama in my blood. But I just understand these people.

// OH MY GOD THE FOOD.

// Venice digs // Vatican faces // Cappuccino for a happy morn //

// Tiny Tuscan bites // Village by the Sea // He's walking into wonder-ocean // Bike baskets over car trunks //

// Working on my statuesque pose (ugh such a poser). //

// Here, Kitty Kitty... // Drinking in the Tuscan views // Colliseum maze //

// It's all pomp and circumstance in Pompeii. //

"Why you want to leave me??"

I have to go on a diet when I get home. Ugh but it's been so worth it.

Ciao!

Ravello: Ancient Gemstone in the Amalfi Coast

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Amalfi.

Here's the deal. The Amalfi Coast is as exotic as it sounds. Ravello is an ancient village tucked away, high in the cliffs of the rugged Italian coastline. This is a land richly swelling with fruits and flowers and humidity. Fat lemons sigh heavily from the luscious outstretched trees above my head. Butterflies frantically flock to and fro, kissing my shoulders for a fast moment as they bar hop from the hydrangeas to the birds of paradise. This is the home of limoncello, my newest favorite Italian discovery.

Our B&B hosts a quiet 4 rooms of visitors, welcoming its guests on a common shared patio. More like an orchard. More like... the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. EVER. And I've seen some pretty crazy stuff on this particular trip. The B&B, Ravello Rooms, sits on the edge of a cliff, with a 380 meter drop off into the Mediterranean Sea teeming below. It is sunset. It is perfect. The sky is cotton pink froth, misting into the sea with an indistinguishable route that makes you question where the sky ends and the water begins. Our B&B host, Guiseppe, has never left his hometown of Ravello. I can see why.

What We Do.

Breakfast is served on the patio. We make it last for a minimum of two hours each morning. Because these are $10 million views.

Beach time during the day. Alfresco dining each night. Moonlit midnight walks home along the mountain tops. My head swimming with fantastic frenzy. My skirt swirls softly around my legs in the warm wind that channels along these cliffs. I am not making this stuff up. This town. Is as crazy perfect as it sounds.

We never stop staring at the sky. It looks like Peter's Never Neverland. Maybe it actually is. And I don't EVER want to grow up.