Louis XIV: The 17th Century ‘Selfie’ King

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

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Louis XIV, Palace of Versailles, The Sun King

King Louis XIV greets visitors at the Palace of Versailles.

We live in a society of limitless ego and self-promotion. Instagram and Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest make it possible for each of us to have our portrait in the public eye continuously. But long before the Internet, there was one man who perfected the ability to say “Look at me!”

Louis dressed in the style of an ancient Roman by Jean Warin.

Louis dressed as a Roman Emperor by Jean Warin in the Salon de Venus.

He was Louis XIV, also known as “The Sun King,” a nickname, so to speak, that embodied his political belief that as the earthly representative of God he had been anointed with the divine right to rule over France, and so he did from 1638 when he was 5 years old to 1715 when he was 77. His home in the exurbs of Paris, the Palace of Versailles, 550,000 square feet of gilt and gold and mile high ceilings, is his testament to himself.

Louis by Gian Lorenzo Bernini in the Salon de Mars.

I had a chance to visit Versailles in November, and of course I oohed and ahed and was awed by this historical Disney extravaganza. But what made it especially fun was spotting the busts of Louis, sculptures of Louis, and paintings of Louis that directed the audience of the past and the audience of today to “look at him.” He never let anyone forget his presence was present around the clock.

Louis on a horse by Rene-Antoine Houasse in the Salon de Mars.

Over his 72-year reign, the longest of any European monarch, it is estimated that Louis commissioned over 300 portraits of himself. Whether he was dressed up for his close-up as the god Apollo or the conquerer Alexander the Great or the human representation of the country of France, he made sure he was never forgotten.

Louis XIV. Victorious in the Salon de Mercure.

Imagine what he could gave accomplished had he had the Internet and a phone with a stick at his disposal.

Transylvania as the ‘Game of Thrones’

15 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by WS50 in Travel

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Looking up at the 13th century Saxon church at Prejmer

BY JULIE SEYLER

I am a sucker for any thing, or place, that is 1000 years old, or older. I walk around the Metropolitan Museum of Art snapping pictures of home decor circa 500 BC and wish I could buy it today.

And this love for the old is just one more reason why Transylvania works for anyone who has a penchant for the past. With its brooding hills and overbearing fortresses, it does not take a lot of imagination to teleport yourself back to the HBO show “Game of Thrones,” where competing armies and enemies endlessly vie for control of the castle.

Knight wear.

In Prejmer, a town that’s about an hour away from Dracula’s castle, you can revisit a world where knights in shining armor defended themselves behind fortress walls with crossbows and sling arrows and boiling oil. It is one of the best preserved medieval fortresses and fortified wooden churches built by the Saxons in Transylvania.

The foundations of the fortification were laid down in the 13th century by the Order of the Teutonic Knights. Its walls are over 40 feet high and 10 feet thick.

The exterior of the fortress and fortified church in Prejmer.

As you enter this self-contained complex that in essence functions as a military outpost, housing unit, and place of worship, you know you have left the 21st century behind. You pass under a gate, but this is not a mere swinging door. It is a portcullis grill, made of oak and reinforced with iron and ornamented with sharp spears to either impale the intruder or trap him inside.

Can you imagine having this gate come down on you?

The first thing you see is the church, a blend of Byzantine and gothic architecture. Inside there are flying buttresses, painted historical tryptichs and gorgeous wooden carved pews.

Inside the Church at Prejmer

Then you enter the fortress or as it is called the raised defensive gallery.

As you circumnavigate the dark, dank passage designed to keep the enemy down and out and look out the peephole windows you can imagine what it must have felt like to see marauders on the horizon and knew that it was time to start preparing for battle.

Inside the fortress

There is also a four-story 15th century apartment complex comprised of 270 individual units that appear to be no longer than 10 feet long and 5 feet high and 5 feet wide.

Medieval apartment complex.

These cubicles may have been cramped, but they served the purpose of providing shelter and storage when the village was under attack.

Inside a housing unit

And then we emerged back to the real world.

Medieval Abstraction

05 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by WS50 in Art, Travel

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Clock Tower Sighisoara, Romania, Sibiu

Raznov fortress.

By JULIE SEYLER

I had an art teacher who said “The more you see, the more you see.”

It is true. I have never ceased hearing her speak that axiom, especially when I travel. There are the guide book sights to see and check off the list (the Painted Monasteries, Notre Dame, Big Ben, etc.) and then there are the crevices that make paintings.

Looking up a window. Sighisoara.

We were in Romania for 14 days and although we spent all of our time visitng medieval monasteries and exploring medieval fortresses while residing in medieval towns, I never got tired of seeing it. So while I made sure to hit the destination spots, it was what I did not expect that delivered so many revelations.

This is the staircase in the 13th century Clock Tower in Sighisoara. The cityscape was an interlocking maze of houses, narrow and dense in their intensity of direction. And then there was the myopic view:

Close up of a wall on a home in Sibiu dating back to the 15th century

Close up of a wall on a home from the 15th century

What is the best part is that each photo brings me back to that day in that place at the time I snapped the photo. Ergo I get taken back to Romania.

Transylvania, Part 2: Checking Out Dracula’s Castle

02 Tuesday Dec 2014

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Bran Castle, Count Dracula, Romania, Transylvania, Vlad Tepes

Count Dracula’s Castle. Bran, Romania

BY JULIE SEYLER

No one plans a trip to Romania without making a visit to Count Dracula’s castle in Bran. Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel which inspired Bela Lugosi’s 1931 portrayal of the blood sucking Count and Klaus Kinski’s taloned apparition of Nosferatu the Vampyre in Werner Herzog’s 1979 version guarantees that Bran Castle will always draw the tourist trade. But sight-seer beware!

Looking up at Bran Castle

Dracula’s home, a conglomeration of medieval fortress and rambling 17th century castle stocked with the emblems of the landed gentry which became the abode of Romanian royalty in the early 20th century, is a bit of a disappointment despite the dramatic views of Transylvania available from every window.

View of Transylvania landscape from inside Bran Castle.

The key is to approach the Castle for its sense of historical significance, knowing that its foundations date back to 1382 when it was built on a citadel as a defense against the Ottomans. Then, as you wander through the maze of rooms taking in the bear rugs, the exquisite details of the hand carved armoires and the displays of armor worn to ward off weapons, you see it holistically as footnote in the history of Romania, not simply as a movie set.

Bear rug. Bran Castle

Carved wooden cabinet.

The room-by-room traipse is carefully orchestrated so that you and your fellow tourists can take in the 700 year history of the castle in an orderly manner as you are guided up to the Dracula section. Here you learn the story of the man behind the legend in words and pictures. Bram Stoker, a writer from Ireland, weaved remnants of Eastern European folklore, romance and fangs into an original horror tale based on Vlad Tepes, a 15th century nobleman renowned for the number of people he murdered. He used Bran Castle as a fortress haven.

The association between Count Dracula, the vampire imagined by Bram Stoker and the original chracter-Vlad Tepes- Dracula -Prince of Wallachia (1448, 1456-62; 1476), who spent his childhood in Transylvania, is due to the prince’s bloody avenger nature. The Wallachian volvode got this popular surname “Tepes”, (the impaler) because of his cruel habit to apply the capital sentence by impaling , and he inherited his second surname , ‘Dracula’ (meaning the Devil’s son in Slavonic language) , from his father Vlad Dracul

After all this, you emerge into the gift shop selling magnets of Vlad and the outdoor tourist stalls selling the standby tchochkalas of Romania. The perfect finale to a sight-seeing excursion.

Tourist stall. Bran.

Transylvania, Part 1: Brasov

24 Monday Nov 2014

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Black Church, Brasov, Julie Seyler, The Write Side of 50, Transylvania

Brasov.

BY JULIE SEYLER

To continue where we left off, Steve and I were boarding the night train to Bucharest. This served a dual purpose. We didn’t waste a day traveling, and we had a cheap place to sleep for the night, albeit I was a bit more rested than Steve when we pulled in to the Gara de Nord the following morning at 6:00. We had an hour to kill before we were again en route, this time to Brasov, our home base for four days. From there we could make day trips to the places of note in Transylvania: Count Dracula’s Castle in Bran, Peles Castle in Sinaia and the medieval fortress towns of Sighisoara and Sibiu.

Entrance to Casa Rozelor

We arrived on a cold, wet day, and checked into the Casa Rozelor, an apartment hotel located around the corner from the town square on a pedestrian street. The exterior bears the markings of its roots in the 15th century and the interior bears the markings of an upscale design firm. It was comfortable and convenient. A plate of ham, cheese and salami would appear every night in the refrigerator so that we could make sandwiches for breakfast. That, and a bottle of beer was a perfect way to start the day.

We made breakfast.

One really only needs a day to see the highlights of Brasov, but having additional time to wander allows its beauty and serenity to be imprinted on the psyche. The to-do list includes the 14th century gothic church, known as the Black Church because of the scars it retains from a fire in 1689.
There is also the cable car up Mount Tamba to view the town and countryside. I missed it and have to rely on Steve’s photos to get an understanding of how truly pretty the view was. There are a few museums and medieval towers, but what made Brasov memorable was my aimless rambling. The sight lines were seductive. The city is in a state of continuous renovation. Some buildings looked as if they wore their age, others were carefully restored to what they may have looked liked when first erected. They were painted green, yellow and pink with 12 foot high windows framed with intensive scroll work and grand portal entrances protected by carefully wrought wrought iron.

If I looked up the rooftops created a maze of lines, space, and form.

If I looked across the street I might see a home restored to its baroque grandeur.

And if I kept my eyes focused on the scene around me, a panorama of the “old” world would appear.

The Town Square dating from 1420.

Coming home from an excursion, I’d plop myself down in the cafe outside the Casa Rozelor.And as I’d sip my beer I’d watch the reflections change in the windows. And for this I wish I had an Ursus beer right now and could transport myself back to Brasov.

Looking at a window.

Starting the Travel Bug Early

13 Thursday Nov 2014

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Barcelona, Frank Terranella, The Write Side of 50

Bryce loves Barcelona!

BY FRANK TERRANELLA

When I think of all the places I would like to see before I can no longer travel (or remember traveling), high on the list is Spain. You see, as the song says, I’ve never been to Spain, but I’ve been to Oklahoma. Yet I’ve always wanted to go to Spain. I studied Spanish history in college and have always been fascinated by the Arab influence there. The architecture and the art, not to mention the food and the climate, all beckon to me.

In fact, the only reason I didn’t get there when I did my college summer trek through Europe is that Spain was not covered by the StudentRail pass that allowed me to get on any train in any other European country. Maybe it was because dictator Francisco Franco was still ruling Spain at the time. I don’t know. But whatever the reason, the StudentRail pass didn’t work there, and so I didn’t get to Spain in 1972. And in the years since, I have not had an opportunity (either business or pleasure) to travel to Spain, even though my job causes me to communicate with people in Spain every day.

This is why it is particularly hard for me to take that my 9-month-old grandson Bryce has now been to Spain. His parents got a passport for him and took him along on their recent vacation to Barcelona. My wife and I had volunteered to babysit while my son and his wife traveled, but they decided that they wanted to experience travel with a baby. By all reports, the travel went well. My grandson did not terrorize other passengers on the overnight trip over by screaming or otherwise behaving like the baby he is. Instead, he seemed to take the airplane ride in stride.

Of course, unlike adults, babies take most things in stride. That shouldn’t surprise us because if you think about it, babies experience new things every day — new sights, new smells, new tastes, new sounds. So something new like an airliner is all in a baby’s normal day. At least he didn’t have to wear a costume like he had to do for his first Halloween a week earlier. And a new country where people speak a language other than English is no sweat to someone who doesn’t speak any language yet.

Actually, my wife and I also took a baby on vacation in 1986. The 11-month-old was Bryce’s father and the trip was to Orlando and Disney World. David did just fine back then and so it did not really surprise us that Bryce also did well. But like his father, Bryce will have no memory of his first plane ride. He will have no memory of Spain. And that’s OK. He has a lifetime to go back.

Since like many young parents we took our children on lots of trips when they were very young, we know that Bryce will get tired of being told that he’s been to Spain. He will complain, as our children did, that it doesn’t count if you don’t remember it. And I guess that’s true. And that may be my opportunity. I can volunteer to take a 12-year-old Bryce back to Spain so that I finally get there. I just hope that I’m not too old to remember it.

Suceava and The Painted Monasteries of Bucovina

10 Monday Nov 2014

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Dragomira, Humor, Moldovita, Suceava, Sucevita, The Painted MOnasteries of Bucovina, Villa Alice, Voronet

Sucevita Monastery

By JULIE SEYLER

Once we decided on Romania, I knew we had to see The Painted Monasteries of Bucovina, a UNESCO World Heritage, described by the Romanian Tourist Office as being:

Among the most picturesque treasures of Romania … decorated with elaborate 15th and 16th century frescoes featuring portraits of saints and prophets, scenes from the life of Jesus, images of angels and demons, and heaven and hell.

While such themes are not uncommon in Christian places of worship, what made this destination especially enticing was the fact that these monasteries are painted on the outside, (as well as the inside), and the stories they tell have survived winters, summers and wars (at least on the southern non-wind facing side of the buildings) since the pigments were applied in the mid-fifteenth century. So what if it meant a two hour flight from Bucharest to Iasi (pronounced Yash, not I-AS-I), a two hour train ride to the town of Suceava and a six hour train ride back to Bucharest departing at 11:00 P.M.? If we were heading to Romania, we (meaning me) had to travel to northwest Romania to see painted medieval monasteries.

Moldavia

The Romanian Tourist Office did not disappoint. The 2-day journey for the 6-hour whirl around the Moldavian countryside delivered in every way. Besides the raison d’etre of the monasteries, there was this bucolic, open landscape of mountains and sheep farms, apple trees and horse-drawn carts. We even saw one of the estates owned by Prince Charles, who has a particular affection for Moldavia, because his ancestral heritage includes Romanian royalty.

In Suceava, where I had booked us into the Villa Alice, a picture postcard of perfect quaintness, the concierge was most helpful in arranging for a driver and a guide to transport us from monastery to monastery because there are about five of them that are must sees: Humor, Voronet, Moldovita, Suceavita and Dragomirna, (which actually is not painted).

But before we started out we had the most grand homemade spread. Laid out were fried eggs and bacon and sausage and home baked toast and yogurt and cheese and ham and fruit and olives lovingly presented by the matriarch of the hotel. Her son lives in Queens and since we were from New York there was an immediate connection and she intended to feed us, very well. We sent him a photo by text to say hello.

Meanwhile, her grandson Chris, a graduate student in political science at the University in Suceava and a wedding videographer, was going to give us our tour. (He kept trying to pose us in classic wedding photo mode before each monastery).

It would take years for me to understand the nuances and individuality of each monastery, but this is unnecessary to appreciate their grandeur, beauty and uniqueness. Chris was wonderful in explaining the history and pointing out the highlights.

What they have in common is their dual function of being spiritual places for worship and a visual testament to the history of Moldavia and its struggle to defend itself against the invading armies of the Ottomans. Thus each has its version of communicating the path to heaven and the temptation of hell and the battles against the Turks.

Detail of wall of Sucevita showing how difficult it is to climb the ladder to heaven

A depiction of war as heads are severed. Sucevita

We learned that Stefan cel Mare or Stephen the Great was the grand monarch that defended Moldavia from invading armies over and over again. According to Chris, each time he did, he built a church to thank his power to be. His son Petru Vares continued the tradition and thus, a common theme emerged of the King, with his family in attendance, thanking Jesus for his beneficence by a gift of a monastery.

Stefan presents the church

We saw, and learned, that each of the monasteries is associated with a dominant color. Red for Humor, green for Sucevita, yellow for Moldovita and blue for Voronet, but most significantly the blue of Voronet, which mimics the sky at dusk on the most perfect day in autumn, has been compared to the red of Rubens and the green of Veronese.

Partial rendering of the western wall at Voronet showing the path to Heaven.

The Blue of Voronet which has not been accurately captured in this photo.

The last monastery we visited that day was Dragomirna, built in 1609. The style is different. The exterior architecture more detailed and no longer painted.

So here is a mini tour of what we saw starting at Humor, where we climbed the fortress to look over the countryside and ending in Dragomirna, where we heard the bells being played to announce the evening prayers. It was a fine ending to a fine day and boarding the night train back to Bucharest turned out to be much less adverse than we anticipated. Plus, it signified the onset of the next adventure: Transylvania and the Land of Vlad Tepes, aka Count Dracula.

Looking at Humor from the fortress that defended it

Detail of painting from Humor

Closer view of Humor

The countryside of Moldavia

Another view of Voronet with the western wall.

Moldovita Monastery

Another view of Moldavita

Defending the town. Moldavita Monastery

Woman at Moldavita Monastery

Sucevita Monastery

Sucevita. Wall detail and windows

Detail of Dragomirna

The nuns play the bells. A little protege watches and listens. Dragomira.

The nuns play the bells. A little protege watches and listens. Dragomirna.

Preparing the bed on the night train to Bucharest

A Little Night Music and Friends

27 Monday Oct 2014

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Bucharest, Caru cu bere, George Enescu Philharmonic, Julie Seyler, Romanian Atheneum, The Write Side of 50

The Romanian Atheneum

By JULIE SEYLER

The best things pop up unplanned. The gems that come out of nowhere and serve the dual purpose of immediate pleasure, and a forever memory of a great time. When Steve and I were in Romania, there were a bunch of these, but our second day in Bucharest gets star billing.

It started with a visit to a Romanian law firm where we were taken to lunch at La Cantine da Nicolai and I had the fall off the bone veal knuckle. The conversation touched on work, but the topic that animated the discussion was music and what would we take with us if we were stranded on a desert island. Beethoven’s Ninth won hands down, (albeit I did try to make the case that Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue should be included in the suitcase).

We parted our hosts and Steve and I wandered around Bucharest, past the Palace of Parliament through the Old Town, and into the National Gallery of Art where I think we viewed every single icon painting. We were walking over to check out the Romanian Atheneum, when a sign caught my eye.

I could translate it enough to see that there was a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth on that night at 7:00 at the Atheneum. Here we had been talking about that symphony at lunch and by pure serendipity, we had a chance to hear it played that evening by the George Enescu Philharmonic. We found the box office, secured tickets and walked inside the Atheneum, an art work in itself with its confection of color, curving lines, sinuous sculptures, and floor to ceiling decorative flourishes.

The lobby of the Atheneum.

Ceiling of Romanian Atheneum with microphone wires.

Compared to New York City concert halls, the space is diminutive. Steve looked at the stage and doubted the orchestra could deliver the power of the symphony, let alone hold a full chorus for the “Ode to Joy”.

The Romanian Atheneum, Bucharest.

But the orchestra packed a wallop. The acoustics gave Carnegie Hall a run for its money. Amidst the standing ovations I knew I had seen one of the best performances ever in one of the most special venues ever. Both of us loved the coincidence of the afternoon’s conversation being played out in real time. It unfolded so perfectly and unexpectedly that it will never lose its status as a gem surprise. But it was not the last of that day.

Right before the concert started I checked my emails and saw that our friends, whose trip to Bulgaria and Romania overlapped ours, had written to say that they were going to be in Bucharest for dinner. Emails were exchanged, but no firm arrangements made. Steve and I decided to stick to our game plan of eating dinner at this highly recommended restaurant Caru Cu Bere which is located in the Old Town. We are standing in line waiing to get in and someone taps Steve on the shoulder. It was a fabulous surprise.

Romania Beckons

29 Friday Aug 2014

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Bucharest, Painted Monasteries, pastrami, Romania, Suceava

By JULIE SEYLER

Today is August 29 and in one month and a day we leave on our trip, arriving at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris on October 1 (my bday). We’ll switch terminals, grab a bite to eat and board Tarom Airlines Flight 9382. We land in Bucharest at 7:15 P.M. and the next day the adventure begins!

Inevitably we are asked “Why Romania?” and all I can say is there is so much to see and do, I wish I had more than 14 days. As it is we are cramming in Bucharest, Count Dracula’s Castle in Transylvania, the medieval village of Sighisoara, the university town of Iasi, the Painted Monasteries of Bucovina and various places in between. We are missing the Danube Delta and the Black Sea. I’m already thinking “next time”!

I did a little prelim research and learned that Romania was the birthplace of Johnny Weissmuller, (the first actor to play Tarzan) and the great sculptor Constantin Brancusi. American pastrami owes a debt to Romania because Jewish immigrants imported the tradition of “goose-pastrama”. In the old country, to preserve the goose for as long as possible it was salted, seasoned, and smoked. There was no goose in NYC and so the technique was adapted to beef and voila pastrami. (Here’s to the the lower east side of Manhattan where old world pastrami sandwiches live on at Katz’s Deli.)

We shall visit grand synagogues, castles, wooden Saxon churches, traditional villages and always be amidst what looks to be gorgeous scenery. It sounds too enticing, and then there is the price point value. Real bang for your buck. We are staying in hotels that are classified as 4 or 5 star and are not more than $100 night including breakfast! We booked one night at the Grand Hotel Traian, designed by Gustave Eiffel, where I read that John Gilbert and Greta Garbo secretly nestled in the 1930s while they were romantically entwined. Perhaps the accommodations shall not be akin to the Four Seasons, but nonetheless old world luxury from the belle epoque with whiffs of a pre-Ceausescu world.

And after Romania we stop four days in Paris. Steve has never been and I have never been to Versailles so it is on the list of things to do. And because we have an extra long stopover in London on our way back- hopefully we shall take the train into the city for lunch.

Now I more than anybody knows no trip is perfect. There will be snafus and disappointments and best laid plans that go awry (all of which Steve will weather with aplomb and me with not such great aplomb). But, it will be forever memorable, as every trip always is.

Getting in Touch with My Inner Nascar Redneck

11 Monday Aug 2014

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Frank Terranella, NASCAR, Pocono Raceway

By FRANK TERRANELLA

I think that we over 50s stay young through new experiences. You say you’ve never been scuba diving? Jump in, the water’s fine. Never been to the opera? No time like the present. Recently, I crossed an item off my bucket list. I attended my first NASCAR race.

Now some of you may be wondering why it took me 61 years to try the most popular spectator sport in America. My only defense is that I’m from New Jersey and there is no NASCAR in New Jersey, never has been. The closest racetrack for me is 90 minutes away in the Poconos. So unless you have family or friends who are fans, NASCAR is not on your radar in the state with the most roads per square mile in the nation.

Only recently has a New Jersey NASCAR fan become a friend. My daughter’s boyfriend has been going to NASCAR races since he was a boy. So when he mentioned that he and his family were heading out to Pocono Raceway for the weekend, I expressed a desire to go along. So my daughter and I got up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning and headed to Pennsylvania to meet up with her boyfriend’s family who had rented an RV and were waiting on the Pocono Raceway infield for us.

If you’ve ever been to a horse race, you know that there is a center portion of the track that is usually green but not inhabited by fans. Car racing is a bit different. First, the track is about twice the length of a horse track and the infield is accordingly much larger. In fact, it’s large enough to accommodate hundreds of RVs. This is like the biggest tailgate you could imagine. Everyone brings grills, lots of food and unimaginable quantities of beer. In fact, everything about car racing is supersized. The racing is like horse racing on steroids; the tailgating makes football fans look like rank amateurs. Even the crowds, in excess of 200,000, are far beyond any other spectator sport.

It took an hour, but my daughter and I finally reached her boyfriend’s RV parked on the track infield. The first item on the agenda was breakfast, and the bacon, eggs and sausage were among the tastiest I’ve ever had. We took a walk around and noticed RVs with satellite television and RV’s with rooftop terraces. We also noticed a lot of Confederate flags.

Now I would expect to see the stars and bars south of the Mason Dixon line, but we were in northern Pennsylvania, about 150 miles north of Gettysburg in fact. So the presence of large numbers of Confederate flags was puzzling. The cars in the parking lot did not indicate that Southerners had driven north for the race.

No, I found out that the stars and bars has become the flag of Redneck Nation. People who simply identify themselves as rednecks fly the flag, in some cases totally ignorant of its historical significance as a flag of slavery for African Americans. And as I looked around, the only people of color I saw were security personnel. There were also far fewer women than men. It seems that NASCAR is a predominantly white male pastime. Fortunately, I fall into that demographic, at least on paper.

As race time came around, we all went to the fence separating the infield from the track and watched the cars whizz by. I have to say that I enjoyed the race itself and all the people we met were extremely friendly. I am glad that I went for the experience of it, just as I was glad that I visited the Guggenheim Museum the previous Sunday. I think that the overlap of customers at the two is probably quite small. But I’m glad that it includes me. In fact, I would not mind attending another NASCAR race in the future. But this weekend, I’m going to the National Gallery.

The Write Side of 59

~ This is What Happens When You Begin to Age Out of Middle Age

Category Archives: Travel

Louis XIV: The 17th Century ‘Selfie’ King

Transylvania as the ‘Game of Thrones’

Medieval Abstraction

Transylvania, Part 2: Checking Out Dracula’s Castle

Transylvania, Part 1: Brasov

Starting the Travel Bug Early

Suceava and The Painted Monasteries of Bucovina

A Little Night Music and Friends

Romania Beckons

Getting in Touch with My Inner Nascar Redneck

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