Touchdown Basel

If I understood our guide correctly, all of the fully-green-shuttered buildings are a high school. Although she claimed Friedrich Nietzsche and Carl Jung attended it, Nietzsche appears to have been schooled in Germany (Prussia). Jung may not have attended here either, but he at least spent some of his youth in Basel. Basel, Switzerland, August 2025.

I’ve visited Europe only twice, and I’ve already learned to dislike the flights over and back. Flying to Basel started off with annoyance before we even left home: whether because our United flights were actually mostly on Lufthansa or because they were booked through the Viking Cruise company, I couldn’t print the boarding passes. Instead I encountered a endless loop where I was shunted from United’s website to Lufthansa’s and then back to begin the process again. Thus, we arrived at the Raleigh airport far too early to accommodate my fear it would take a lot of time to sort out after waiting in a long line. Neither supposition proved true. Our Raleigh-Washington, D.C.-Frankfurt-Basel tickets in hand we whiled away the first hour by walking the full length of the terminal twice which allowed me a moment of irritation when I saw this sign:

When quicker isn’t the way you’re going. August 2025.

Our flight to Dulles departed at 3:10. Obviously this flight would get into Frankfurt prior to ours which would leave Dulles at 6:10 p.m. for the same city. Why Viking wouldn’t book this escapes me. And as it turned out, our plane from Dulles left the gate 60 minutes late, then spent 30 minutes on the tarmac for reasons I no longer remember. We therefore landed in Frankfurt at about the same time our connecting flight took off for Basel. Our worries were minimal because we knew this would be Viking’s problem, not ours, and indeed, a Viking rep handed us new tickets as soon as we cleared the gate upon landing. Our new flight would be on Air Dolomiti, an Italian airline. The least pleasant of all our flights over and back.

Despite the comfort of our seats (premium economy with no seats in front of us, only an emergency exit and about 15 glorious feet of space), we slept fitfully and as I suspected arrived fairly tired to Basel. My first impression: “Wow, we’re landing in France!” I had not noticed Basel sits at the juncture of France, Germany, and Switzerland. Suburbs from the city lie in the other two countries—our guide lived in Germany “so I can have A/C which I can’t get in Switzerland.” Exiting the controlled area, one follows large arrows to either France or Switzerland. A stop by the Viking desk in the airport, a short wait for two other parties (who didn’t arrive), and we were shuttled the 15 minutes to our hotel close to the Rhine River, but in a newer part of the city.

I then educated my wife on my coping strategy for the six-hour time jump: drop off your luggage, find the bar, quickly enjoy some of the best beer you’ll never see in the United States, and follow it with a full, preferably heavy meal. Guaranteed to put you to sleep quickly and jump start your rhythms to the new time zone. Accordingly….

The three beers of most interest entering the bar. We started with the Schweizer Helles on the right. Hyperion Hotel, Basel, Switzerland. August 2025.

An old friend from 2019, Grimbergen. This is the amber or “double amber” as it was called on our cruise. Hyperion Hotel, Basel, Switzerland, August 2025.

Perhaps now we should warn the teetotalers: there will be many references to beer in this series. It’s Europe, the cruise docked on the German side of the river, and we ended our vacation in Antwerp, Belgium, one of the most beer-obsessed countries on the planet.

Suitably sated, we toddled off to our room, marveled again at a completely computer-driven elevator system, and acquainted ourselves with a few vagaries in European plumbing (such as the toilet being on the opposite end of the room as the sinks and the shower).

What the world needs…

A better barstool. The Golden Angel pub in Antwerp, Belgium. August 2025.

What a simple moment of ‘doh!’ when I saw these. Why aren’t there easy to use foot rests on every barstool? Sure, a bar rail is handy when it’s available, but many a shorter-legged person can’t reach it from a barstool. Here in Antwerp I saw several variations on this theme. C’mon, America! Get with the program.

The perfect vacation

Rhine River at Koblenz, Germany. August 2025.

Vacationing has meant several things over the years. As a child it meant adventure. Dad would plan a two-week sojourn through the beauty of the American West, plotting the journey for months, and utilizing guidebooks (well, the AAA one) to find both motels and sights to see along the way. By the time I reached “summer job” stage and such vacations no longer were possible, we had seen most of the national parks from the Rockies westward, plus the Grand Canyon, and the tourist hot spots of Southern California (Disneyland, the San Diego Zoo, Knott’s Berry Farm, etc.). We visited San Francisco in 1968 where I saw my great-grandmother on her deathbed and hippies in The Haight. And we always tried to loop through either Seattle or Woodburn, OR, to visit one set of grandparents. Back then, vacationing meant lots of hours in a car reading or imagining things as the countryside went by. It meant rolling with the punches when the road Dad wanted to drive was under construction or the motel he wanted looked better suited to hookers than small children. It mostly meant seeing state after state, park after park, city after city which I had never seen before, and which in my short life presented amazing memories and lessons.

I couldn’t capture that as a younger adult. Vacations at first mostly entailed going home to visit my parents and my friends. I tried a brief camping trip along the Snake and Salmon rivers, but the spectacular views couldn’t make up for my inability to build a fire and thereby have any food to eat. (Or perhaps one could say, the views couldn’t make up for my ineptness as a camper.) A bit later as a newly wedded teacher, summers were for further training, loafing at my in-law’s lake cabin a couple times, and once or twice attempting to emulate my father’s grand tours of the West. I thereby got to see parts of Arizona south of the Grand Canyon for the first time and see some lesser known but equally impressive sights. I explored my own state, Washington, better. The 10 to 11-week length of our summer breaks diluted the compressed wonder of a two-week vacation.

Life changes and a relocation to greater Philadelphia put the kibosh on traditional vacations. Just living there was a new experience. After two years there I discovered a new type of vacation which brings a different kind of satisfaction: the introductory tour. I had met a new love (who married me the next year), and I had entered corporate America where two weeks is the only significant time off you get. I took this woman on a whirlwind nine-day tour of Washington and meet-the-folks. My bride-to-be loved the state and my parents loved her. I repeated the tour in 2017 for a dear couple of friends from North Carolina.

[Disclaimer time: despite the fact I’ve lived in Washington for only four years since I left it back in 1992, I still consider it one of the best places on Earth. My values have to do with variety. In my mind only California comes close to the diversity of climactic zones and has the varied population densities ranging from the Seattle-Tacoma-Olympia wash of people to areas where it’s difficult to find the next house from the one you’re standing beside. Want desert? Check. Alpine? Check. Rainforest? Check. Scablands, Arctic, Temperate forest? Check, check, and check.]

Less than a year after our marriage in 1995, we vacationed to New Mexico for two weeks. We wandered from Albuquerque north, were unimpressed with Santa Fe and hightailed to Taos. In ’95 it had started to build up, but only a little. We stayed at an honest-to-God auto court, and breakfasted at a old West-style cafe on the square. (Revisiting in 2022 saddened me when I saw all of that charm washed away by touristy stuff.) That second week of the vacations, all my tensions dropped away as we shot into southwestern Colorado for two nights before striking to southern NM and the Carlsbad Caverns. Until a couple weeks ago, I held this up as our standard of Best Vacation Ever.

Then we cruised down the Rhine River for eight days on the Viking Hlin, and visited Basel, Switzerland, and Antwerp, Belgium, at the beginning and end of the voyage, respectively. Viking is known for catering to old folks like us (no one under 18 is allowed) and for its all-inclusive approach. We could have been very happy just eating the food, drinking the beer and wine with lunch and dinner, and taking the included tours, but it made sense for us to add two optional tours, take care of gratuities in one tidy little package, and buy the Silver Sipper beverage package so that we could drink beer, wine, and cocktails just about any time we wanted. Given the slant toward the retired and soon-to-be-retired, I must say my initial introduction to the ship gave me a jolt:

“Welcome aboard” kinda takes on a whole new meaning with a tag like that! August 2025.

I’ve nothing against people living the love lives they desire, but still I was thankful there occurred no hot gay sex (that I know of ) on the Hlin. It reinforced my initial reaction after two nights in Basel before boarding, that European cities seem to take a more blasé view about tagging. There seems to be an unwritten rule that it isn’t done on cathedrals and other historical buildings, but other than that…sure, indulge yourself.

As with my Hawaii series [tag: Hawaii] and my Virtual Vacation series [tag: Virtual Vacation] about Michigan and Ohio, this will be a lengthy series of posts recounting how two neophytes who never traveled abroad for pleasure decided to do so in retirement. For now, I’ll end with two photos about our first few hours onboard.

The appearance of swans became commonplace by the end of the cruise. They paddled up for treats just as ducks do in cities throughout the United States. Rhine River just downstream from Basel, SW. August 2025.

On the first night I met one of my new friends: Köstritzer schwarzbier. If you think you don’t like dark beers, give schwarzbier a try. Light-bodied, crisp, but it has a nice roasted taste lacking in traditional lagers. One of the handful of beers offered on board. I wish there had been more! And yes, Europeans are civilized: each beer has its dedicated glass. Viking *Hlin* , August 2025.

Goodbye, Hawai’i

At the beginning of this sporadic accounting of our Hawaiian vacation last fall, I mused on 100 Days of Hawai’i, and I threatened to go all “grandpa” on y’all. As this parade of entries has wound down, I think the ol’ grandpa genes kicked in more. Therefore I’ll keep this short, sweet, and hopefully mildly entertaining.

After the visit with my cousin our first full day on Maui, we loitered for three days as described recently. Two serendipitous events occurred to ensure an encore visit with my cousin and her husband. First, I left my camera and that package of very expensive Kona coffee in their car after our first visit. And second, I realized there was no way we wanted to get to the Kahului airport by 7 a.m. if that meant a one-hour drive and dropping a rental car. It would have seriously impacted the lazy vibe we were working on! I rebooked the flight for the next day, booked a hotel near the airport, and told my cousin so we could meet again for another visit since they lived near the hotel and the airport. This gave us a day to leave the Kapalua condo leisurely, stop at various viewpoints on the southern coast, and spend a lot of time at the Maui Aquarium.

Our last good view of the coast (from land anyway): the Papawai Scenic Lookout. The western end of Maui is on the left, a tiny dab of land in the center is Molokini, and at the right edge is Kaho’olawe. September 2024.

Even in the populated middle of Maui where things are fairly dry (see above), the mountains showed how they catch the clouds and their rain.

Looking west at dusk from Kahului. The Dunes at Maui Lani golf course in the foreground. The mountains are the reason one drives *around* the coast to Lahaina and Kapalua. September 2024.

Except for a few photos I couldn’t resist posting while on the vacation, I opened this lengthy travelogue with aerial shots of Oahu and Hawai’i. It seems only fitting we say goodbye to Maui and the Hawaiian Islands the same way.

Our plane skirted the northern coast of Maui, then banked to the east and the mainland. My last view of Maui and the Hawaiian Islands. September 2024.

Maui coastal shots

Looking back near four months now I cannot recall what we did of note for the three days after we connected with my cousin during our first full day on Maui. Only two salient things leap to mind: hanging at the nearest pool on the second day and driving the north coast a bit on the fourth. It seems as if we must have done something else…didn’t we? Our fourth day also represented our final full day on the western end of Maui. We had been told the natives didn’t really like tourists going up along the north shore, but we took a ‘chance’ and except for a bit of display for what I think represented a Hawai’i Separatist Movement we experienced no animosity. We certainly saw spectacular scenery as the road dove to near sea-level and then ascended to the tops of cliffs.

Our rental car, the ocean, and a spectacular sky above. Molokai in the distance. September 2024.

Once upon a time I might have tried snorkeling but not now, and certainly not in this partially protected bay. (Little dots are people snorkeling.) September 2024.

Unfortunately for my pictorial record, few pull-offs existed. At this one you can see a good representation of the north coast. The hill in the background has an incline in it as the road we’re on continues. We drove down to near-sea level in the bay out of the photo to the right. September 2024.

By my estimation I took around 100 photos of the coast and/or sunrises/sunsets while we lingered on Kapalua Bay. Dawn would start with the low-contrast promise of sun:

Pre-dawn, last morning on Kapalua Bay. Molokai to the left. September 2024.

And sometimes not so low-contrast…

This photo taken 20 minutes prior to the above it. Maui, September 2024.

I guess most of the time we stared at sunrises in the morning, sunsets in the evening and in between we ate and stared at stuff like this…

Breakers just beyond our shore, nearing sunset. Kapalua Bay, Maui, September 2024.

More products I don’t usually see

Our second morning at our Kapalua condo we decided the odd mix of “general store” and “deli counter” at the Honolua Store #89 which we had seen our first night going to dinner bore further scrutiny. For one, eating muffins two consecutive days for breakfast held no appeal. Two, I needed that coffee as explained in my Kona coffee post. Three, eating purple pancakes had “yes, you have to do this” written all over it. They’re purple because of ube, a species of yam––I can’t remember why the syrup is purple:

Purple pancakes for breakfast. Honolua Store #89, Maui, HI. September 2024.

While waiting for my purple pancakes I saw a display card for something I didn’t want to have:

Just couldn’t get behind Spam, despite its popularity. Honolua Store #89, Maui, HI. September 2024.

After breakfast we purchased numerous supplies such as chocolates, coffee, more beer, and other fixin’s and such to encourage us to mostly just stay in place and stare at the ocean.

Rainbows over Molokai

Molokai occluded by cloud and rainbow. September 2024.

Dawn on our second morning at Kapalua Bay struck clouds delivering a rain shower between us and Molokai, creating a brilliant rainbow. This may be common: I’ll post another instance later in this series.

Close-up of the morning ‘bow. Molokai from Maui, September 2024.

A Kona Konundrum

100% Kona coffee. Purchased in Maui, September 2024.

Our first full day on Maui consisted of settling in to a condo (“we need food” we realized). Then, we rendezvoused with one of my few cousins after more than 50 years. While spending the afternoon with them, we wandered an upscale mall. I spied a coffee shop and within, some ground Kona coffee. I needed coffee. I grabbed the package pictured above. At check-out the clerk said, “That will be forty-three dollars” and change. A mixture of shock and avoidance of embarrassment made me extend my credit card, tap the terminal, and commit to one of the most foolish purchases I’ve made in my life. You’ll note the package is only 7 ounces. As in barely-more-than-half-a-pound. Unfortunately, I can’t resist doing the math, and that’s more than $98/pound. Ouch.

I don’t like Kona coffee. I’ve had it off and on (mostly off) over 45 years of fine coffee drinking. I therefore didn’t think too much about buying something that purportedly was a lot less well-positioned on the ladder of quality. Because I absentmindedly left the package in my cousin’s car, I therefore needed coffee still. I purchased this:

Note–only 10% actual Kona coffee in this package. September 2024.

The pound above cost around $12-13. Same amount of ounces. Tasted…not quite as good, but really it wasn’t a three-fold difference. I felt stupid. And there you go.

To Maui

First sunset, with Molokai in background. September 2024.

Apologies, everyone. I’m going full Grandpa Mode in this one. It needs to be done.

After passing through three airports ranging from nice to delightful (see I Love You Hilo B. Airport), renting a car, and driving around the western lobe of Maui, we negotiated the contactless check-in process to our condo (another post for another day), unpacked, and stepped outside just as the sun set. Apologies for posting yet another sunset photo! It fits and I love ’em!

By the time our first full day in Maui dawned, we had made the decision we wouldn’t be driving around much. That drive from Kahului Airport to our condo at Kapalua Bay had taken nearly an hour. With little of interest in the miles and miles of condos stretching south of us to Lahaina, which itself offered much less after the 2023 fire wiped out half of its center, we realized going to any of the attractions mid-island would mean a two-hour roundtrip drive…every day. Attractions on the eastern part of the island (Haleakala National Park, for example) would be even further. If this had been our first few days in Hawai’i….but they were not.

We did drive back that very first day, however, so I could connect with my cousin whom I had not seen in 40-50 years. I grew up with only three cousins, all girls, who lived many hundreds of miles distant by the time I entered school (especially when they moved to Hawai’i for a few years). I gained a fourth when she was born as I finished high school and college, but the cousin one year older than me passed away about 20 years ago. With only three surviving cousins, and only two I actually knew growing up, seeing my Maui cousin qualified as a Big Deal. We met at the Maui Brewing Company in Kihei. After a delightfully long meal full of laughter, reminiscences, and plenty of beer, we toured the gated community where my cousin’s husband works as head of security. It’s a sweet gig: he works but two or three days each week and rubs shoulders with The Rich. He dropped some names, but I’m not allowed to pass them on to you. Suffice to say, when one of them purchases a home there, they promptly drop about a million to remodel it.

At the end of the afternoon we faced that one-hour drive back. We stopped in Lahaina at a Safeway for supplies, representing the first time I’ve ever seen a wine cellar in a Safeway.

Wine Cellar at Lahaina Safeway. September 2024.

That night the sun dutifully set, and I just as dutifully captured it photographically with twenty shots.

Sunset over palm. Maui, HI, September 2024.

The final dregs of sunset. Maui, HI, September 2024.

Kona nuts

Our final full day on The Big Island, we drove west across the island to the Kona Coast. It didn’t totally waste our time, but it validated our decision to stay in Hilo. In our short taste of it, the Kona Coast appeals to people who aren’t us–hence they’re nuts: Kona Nuts. Near as I can figure out, the west side of The Big Island appeals to people who like:

Swimming, surfing, snorkling, and scuba diving
Deep sea fishing
Parasailing and its variants
Boating
Lots of physical exercise (running, cycling, and the like)
Shopping in malls, strip and otherwise
Renting AirBnB’s, condos, and vacation houses crammed side by side up the hillsides facing the ocean

We don’t like any of that. Okay, we’ll take an occasional hike, and we’ll poke into those small shops catering to tourists (but they’re better when they don’t). We’re not the physically active types. I’m not at 70, and haven’t been since I flipped the dial past 40.

On top of that, we found the western side of the island to be hot, dry, a bit desiccated. Our first inkling occurred driving across the the caldera of Mauna Kea. We had left rain in Hilo, low wispy clouds misting us, sprinkling us with life-encouraging water. Once we climbed to the center of the island, things looked quite a bit different. (Photos are from our return drive to the east.)

Driving east, back to the rain clouds of Hilo. Looked good to us! September 2024.

I grew up in eastern Washington State where lava flows poke like basalt bones through a grass-covered skin of dirt. It looked a lot like the western half the Big Island. If you told me this next photo was the interstate exchange just west of Spokane where students head south to Eastern Washington University, I would believe you:

Mauna Kea caldera looking northeast from its approximate center. September 2024.

The grass-covered lava of Mauna Kea. September 2024.

Once we descended the steep slopes to Kona coast–an oddity to me; shouldn’t the leeward side be more gently sloped?–we found a whole lotta nothing…which isn’t really fair, but our first stop gave us that impression. The Kaloko-Honokohau National Historic Park starts out looking like this:

Kaloko-Honokohau Nat’l Historic Park, looking toward the ocean. The edge of the “visitor center” visible at left edge of the photo. September 2024.

Although bleak, this stop proved informative. Indigenous peoples used these coasts to trap fish and perform other ocean-related activities (I think they got salt also–can’t remember). Families owned narrow parcels of land stretching from the shore up the slopes. Those members who lived at higher elevations would farm and bring their harvests to the shore to trade for fish and seafood. We chose not to walk the mile-long trail to a recreated site about the coastal folks, primarily because the 90+ degrees and lava fields intimidated us. Finding the entrance to that area of the park proved elusive, hidden and nearly unmarked as it was in the backmost corner of a parking lot for various marina businesses.

A recreated shelter of the indigenous peoples. Kaloko-Honokohau Nat’l Historic Park, September 2024.

After this we drove south into Kailua-Kona proper. We found nothing but strip malls, hotels, gas stations, various support businesses, and the airport where virtually every airline flies except for Southwest Airlines (explaining why we flew into Hilo). We found restrooms and beat feet to the east side of the island. We had great views on our climb out of Kona: foregrounds of all the roofs of the vacation homes, backgrounds of the ocean. Yay.