Where Luxury meets Riviera. Cross Country Walking

 

 

 

Since Scott had declared yesterday’s Caesar salad the best in the world, there was no debate about where to go for breakfast this morning. Back we went to the same café. Scott stuck with his favorite, while I experimented with scrambled eggs and a bagel. The bagel turned out to be nothing more than a bagel-shaped piece of bread, but the scrambled eggs and avocado easily made up for it.

From breakfast we walked straight to the train station, hopped on a train, and within half an hour had crossed into Monaco. The walk towards the legendary Monte Carlo Casino felt surreal, the country seemed so artificial. We even considered losing a few euros in the slot machines, but apparently, the casino doesn’t accept early-morning donations. So instead, after admiring the luxury cars lined up outside, we continued our trek through the city center and up towards the Prince’s Palace.

Here’s the funny part: within about an hour, we had managed to walk across the entire country. Admittedly, Monaco is tiny, but it still feels like an achievement. We spent the rest of our visit speculating on how the locals without yachts or Ferraris entertain themselves. Once the novelty wore off, we decided it was time to head back to France. Our train was delayed because someone had apparently chosen the tracks as their morning resting spot, but by 2 p.m., we were back at our hotel.

The afternoon was simple: a run, some packing, and then scouting for dinner.

Along the way, I reflected on how we’ve become accidental protest tourists. Yesterday we walked into a Palestinian demonstration in town (which has also happened to us in London and Venice), and today our jogging route cut through yet another protest. I never figured out what this one was about, but this one definitely wasn’t Palestine-related.

For dinner, our chosen restaurant promised to be open according to the internet. In reality? Completely shut. No worries though - we tracked down another place. We had to wait nearly an hour for the chef to arrive, but once he did, the food was absolutely worth it.

Twice as Nice. Morning in the Broom Closet

 

We woke up bright and early, ready to start the day. First stop: a cozy little brunch café tucked away on a side street. Scott declared he had found the best Caesar salad in the world, apparently the breaded chicken was out of this world. I went for a croissant with poached eggs and smoked salmon, which was every bit as delicious as it sounds. Perfect start.

Back at the hotel, we decided to test our luck. Our original room was… let’s just say compact. Think: trying to squeeze two people into a bed designed for one and a half at best. So, we asked if we could move to a room that actually had space to stretch without elbowing each other in the ribs. Success! Not only did we get a proper room, but the staff threw in a free Monday breakfast to make up for the broom-closet situation. Win-win.

The rest of the day was spent wandering through the old town and along the seaside. The weather was kind, the views were even kinder, and somewhere along the way we stumbled upon cookies so good they deserve their own Michelin star.

In the evening, the plan was to grab some food for a seaside picnic. Except… those cookies had basically filled us up for the entire day. So Scott grabbed another focaccia, and we just sat by the water, watching the sunset.

Twice as Nice. Getting there.

Just when I thought today was going to be uneventful - just a flight to Nice and nothing worth writing about - the second leg, Munich to Nice, turned out to be anything but boring. 

After the boarding pass check, we followed the signs: left for Business Class, right for us humble economy travelers. Except… the door to our plane was firmly shut, lights off, looking as if the crew had clocked out for the night. So, like a confused school of fish, everyone shuffled back to the business gate. Ten minutes later, someone finally pried open the middle door, sending us into the aircraft where people were now attempting to navigate the aisles both ways at once - like salmon swimming upstream, but less coordinated.

Finally, we settled into our seats: Scott by the window, me in the middle, and then… him. My neighbor. A man who had clearly been on a bar hopping and liquid diet since noon (it was now 9pm).

Here’s a quick highlight reel:

• Tried chatting me up with the “Are you American?” opener
• Carried a newspaper, which he enthusiastically shared with me by spreading it all over my seat and insisting I appreciate the comedic genius of Trump and Biden
• Leaned so far into my seat that I briefly considered charging him rent
• Rehearsed the airplane’s mechanical noises - yes, including the landing gear - like a preschooler
• When Scott and I returned from the restroom, he asked if we wanted to get back to our seats before actually moving out of the way (because standing in the aisle for the remainder of the flight sounded like such a solid plan)
• Demanded the crew provide the exact minute of our delayed arrival in Nice, as if he had a midnight board meeting waiting for him on the tarmac.

After we landed - shortly before midnight - we grabbed an Uber to the hotel, ready to collapse.

Of course, the day had one last surprise. I’d booked a standard double room, but apparently they were fresh out. Instead, we were handed a key to what can only be described as a broom closet with aspirations of being a hotel room.

Amsterdam Adventures. Rain, Waffles, and “Gluten-Free” Cafe

Our last full day in Amsterdam started with a sound of rain hammering against the windows. Nothing says rise and shine quite like gray skies and the urgent need to dig out the only vaguely waterproof jacket you packed.

Armed with our limited supply of “warm-ish” clothes, we headed toward the much-hyped MOCO Museum. The digital exhibition in the basement was an absolute highlight – walls, floors, and ceilings coming alive in color and light. It felt a bit like stepping into someone’s wildest screensaver (in the best possible way). As you can probably guess, we took a bunch photos to prove we were there.
From high culture, we wandered into De Pijp, where our first stop was the usual one: Starbucks. By the time we finished our drinks, the rain decided it had bullied us enough for the day and made room for sunshine.

The market in De Pijp offered a true Amsterdam experience: hot, fresh caramel stroopwafels. Obviously, I had to get one. Nearby, we discovered an international shop catering to expats, where we stocked up on UK and US snacks like kids unleashed in Willy Wonka’s factory.

Next came the much-anticipated stop at a “gluten-free” café. The quotation marks are very intentional. When we asked the staff which cakes were gluten-free, the answer was… two. Just two. Out of an entire showcase. A bit of a letdown, though at least the marketing department got creative with the definition of “gluten-free.”

In the afternoon, we hopped back on the metro for a quick round of shopping before returning to the hotel. By this point, Saskia had firmly decided that she was not leaving the room again. Fair enough - travel stamina runs out eventually. I did a solo run to the corner shop for dinner supplies, bringing back a picnic that was definitely less glamorous than stroopwafels but equally satisfying.

Amsterdam Adventures. A Day of Swings, Queues, and ovenfresh Croissants

 

 

The morning started with the kind of hotel breakfast that deserves a standing ovation: croissants straight out of the oven, pancakes hot off the mysterious pancake machine, and fruit being chopped right in front of our eyes like a live cooking show. According to Saskia, however, the hot dogs were a crime against food and best forgotten.

Fueled by flaky pastry and a sugar rush, we set off for A’DAM Lookout — the towering building famous for its panoramic city views. Our plan was simple: enjoy the skyline, snap a few photos, and head back down. The giant swing that launches you over the edge of the building? Absolutely not on the agenda.

But then I saw it in action. It didn’t look that terrifying… and Saskia’s eyes lit up like she’d just discovered free Wi-Fi. “Do you really want to go?” I asked. Turns out she really, really did. So up we went. Me, clinging on for dear life, and Saskia, swinging like a rollercoaster addict. I’ll admit — it was fun. Once. Saskia would have gone again immediately, but luckily the swing wasn’t free.

Before all that adrenaline, Saskia also got her first-ever subway ride — which she declared almost as thrilling as the swing. Almost.

Next stop: Stüssy, the holy grail of streetwear. Except… apparently holiness requires patience, because only 5–6 people were allowed in at a time, and the line snaked halfway toward the Red Light District. After what felt like forever, we got in — only to discover the collection was, well, underwhelming. So much for fashion enlightenment.

To balance the disappointment, we swung by TK Maxx (home of chaotic treasure hunts) before hunting down lunch.
Post-lunch, Saskia had her heart set on Hollister. We turned the corner and nearly choked: a queue stretching over 100 meters. A WTF moment. Bracing ourselves for another endless wait, we walked past — and discovered that the actual Hollister entrance was completely queue-free. Turns out the massive line was for a shop across the street selling Labubus. We wished the poor souls in line good luck and carried on with our plans.

We lightened the mood with a quick wander through the flower market, then retreated to the hotel for a well-earned siesta.

When evening rolled around, I asked Saskia what she wanted to do next. Perhaps cautious due to earlier endless walks, she chose something safe: a canal cruise. Perfect. The dock was conveniently right in front of our hotel, and arriving early got us the best seats by the window. Halfway through, Amsterdam traffic proved it isn’t limited to roads or planes — we hit a canal jam, and another boat even bumped into us from behind. Authentic local experience unlocked.

We wrapped up the day with a grocery store dash for some evening snacks, before collapsing back at the hotel.

Amsterdam Adventures. Of early Birds and wild Animals. The Lion sleeps tonight

 

 

The day started earlier than most of us would like to admit. When I woke up at 5:25 a.m., I discovered that Gerli and Saskia had already showered, gotten dressed, made their beds, and even started cooking porridge. Honestly, one has to wonder why they even bothered going to sleep in the first place.

 
By 6:00 a.m. we were on the move, and by half past, Saskia and I were already at the gate. (Gerli, meanwhile, was heading in the opposite direction toward Tartu and was probably already somewhere near Kose by then.)

 
Our flight to Amsterdam wasn’t without a twist - apparently, it’s such a popular destination that airplanes got stuck in traffic. So we sat and waited a good 50 minutes for takeoff clearance.

 
Once in Amsterdam, we dropped our bags at the hotel and made a beeline for the nearest Starbucks. Coffee first, sightseeing later, right?

 
Next stop: Amsterdam Zoo, which turned out to be an absolutely charming park where animals hide in little corners and you get the thrill of finding them. At one point, we walked into a tunnel and nearly had a semi heart attack - a jaguar casually strolled across just a few meters away. Luckily, there was a glass wall between us and the big cat.
We thought about visiting the butterfly house next, but Saskia took one look at the two and a half slugs on the stairs and decided butterflies weren’t worth the risk. Fair enough. Instead, we admired a lion family (majestic!) and some very elegant giraffes.

 
After a quick lunch, we headed back to the hotel for a much-needed rest. A little shopping followed, and we wrapped up the day by ordering dinner in.