Red Mosquito

spike wrote:

96583UP wrote:Positano/Capri is absolute paradise

Wife has a few Euro work trips later this year and wants to tack on a family getaway. Would this be a good time with a three year old? I assume it’s a lot of sitting around in the warm and eating good stuff.

spike wrote:Haha, I asked my wife about this since she just spent the week in Madrid. She couldn’t comment though, as all dinners were catered tapas deals and the one sit down was at a Michelin place where the plates just kept coming.

At the latter place, whenever someone dripped red wine in the tablecloth, a staff member would appear out of nowhere and cover it with a white sticker lol.

spike wrote:I’ve been to Zurich no thanks $$$

96583UP wrote:

spike wrote:I’ve been to Zurich no thanks $$$

yes, Suisse is expensive...

Amboise, France is beautiful and kid friendly

would not recommend paris with a 3 year old

but if you can get to a nice provincial wine town, with a couple restaurants, laid back, chill

your euro gets you a lot of bang for the buck ... high quality of food, the simple basic stuff tastes great. and wine there is inexpensive and high quality, low sulfites... wine is tripled taxed to arrive in the states, and they add all that shit to it to survive transport ... and smaller producers never get exported

dad wrote:

96583UP wrote:

spike wrote:I’ve been to Zurich no thanks $$$

yes, Suisse is expensive...

Amboise, France is beautiful and kid friendly

would not recommend paris with a 3 year old

but if you can get to a nice provincial wine town, with a couple restaurants, laid back, chill

your euro gets you a lot of bang for the buck ... high quality of food, the simple basic stuff tastes great. and wine there is inexpensive and high quality, low sulfites... wine is tripled taxed to arrive in the states, and they add all that shit to it to survive transport ... and smaller producers never get exported

you are like lonely planet, only better.

Spoiler: show

where the poop comes out

96583UP wrote:i’ve heard Germany is good … beer, pretzels, picnic tables where can kids run around in the park and play

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:

spike wrote:

96583UP wrote:i’ve heard Germany is good … beer, pretzels, picnic tables where can kids run around in the park and play

The greatest egg roll I’ve ever had was at Chinese joint in Hamburg. Was the size of a late night burrito.

That was a chimichanga

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.