I am addicted to research and have always been. Most of the time, I don’t recall how I end up at a particular topic. Knowledge increases with each reference and seque. My path is nothing, if not circuitous. What arose, was a daytrip off the beaten path in Dinant.
I made a wise choice using Ghent, Belgium as my base for my Belgian adventure. Of course, I also ventured to Bruges and Antwerp. Both far exceeded my expectations. Looking at the map during my planning, I wanted one more day trip.
I discovered that nearly all inhabitants of Dinant, in the Wallonia region in southern Belgium, speak French. And, I learned that the city is the birthplace of Adolphe Sax. Born in 1814, he invented the saxophone in the early 1840s, but only after having several serious near-death experiences. So, I decided to make the trek and then realized that an unusual special event occurs each August 15th.
A holy day of obligation for Catholics in France, l’Assomption is also a federal holiday. Each year on August 15 in Dinant, some 25,000 spectators gather along the Meuse River to watch the International Bathtub Regatta. Started in 1982, this event has grown to include a huge flea market along the river banks, floating bars, and plenty of street music. https://www.lesbaignoires.be/
Regatta rules stipulate that teams build homemade rafts that have at least one real bathtub into the flotation structure, and that everything must be powered strictly by human arm or paddle. Watching dozens of these concoctions attempt to travel a kilometer down the river, I laughed alongside hundreds of strangers.
Both the regatta and the Charles de Gaulle bridge lined with saxophone structures made for a whimsical and unexpected day. I’m so glad I opted for a daytrip off the beaten path in Dinant.
Since this summer’s trip was my third solo journey since 2024, my real apprehension prior to the trip surprised me. I kept my thoughts to myself, convinced that voicing them would cause me to do something I would regret, like cancel.
First solo trip in decades, at age 69
When I went to France alone in 2024, I rented an Airbnb for eleven days. I stayed in Menton’s old town because I fell in love with the town years earlier when I spent only two days there with my best friend. My apartment on Rue Longue had a miraculous view of the sea, which I earned after climbing many, many very old stairs. Each day held adventures, pastries, and café crème. Menton and I had a strong connection, but after nine dinners alone in lovely restaurants, I had pangs of loneliness. On day ten, I woke up thinking I was ready to go home, and that maybe solo travel wasn’t for me. Day eleven, departure day, I was ready to go back to the U.S. On day twelve, back home in Florida, I said to myself, “I must be crazy to give up this travel!”
Last year, I started my journey with my daughter, then spent the next several weeks traveling alone. Still fantasizing about spending most of the summer in Europe each year, I lengthened this trip.
I left Zoë at Leonardo Da Vinci airport in Rome and set off for Cremona, Italy before going to Lyon, France, and finally Paris. Each city gifted me with irreplaceable memories. I took day trips to Geneva, Rouen, attended a strings concert in Paris, and so much more.
But dinners were lonely. Walking back to my hotel at about 10 pm on my last night, I had the audacity to feel sorry for myself. It didn’t help that I took a wrong turn and got lost for a few minutes. I was ready to go home and call it quits with traveling alone. When I found my way again, I walked across Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge over the Seine in Paris. The night’s drizzle did nothing to keep strollers indoors. Stopping at the mid-point of the bridge, my mood went from undeserved self-pity to one of sheer wonder. How could I give this up!
Pont Neuf
Still going at 71
I vacillated between taking a chance on a new travel partner and going it alone again. My need for freedom won, and I planned another solo adventure, adding yet another few days to my itinerary. This time, my feelings often alternated between eager anticipation and a bit of sadness about my lack of travel partner. I told all my friends that I couldn’t wait to go. Many times after my son booked my flight, I thought of canceling. The only thing that stopped me was knowing my son considers me brave. I couldn’t disappoint him, so I pressed on, booking hotels and trains. I slept badly the night before my departure and started the drive to Miami airport feeling cranky. Only when I landed in Brussels, did I get my mojo back.
After my last two trips, I had learned to accept the lonely moments for what they were, only moments. I had an amazing time, probably with too ambitious an itinerary, felt alone, and went on to the next amazing experience. Yes, on departure day, I felt more than ready to come home, complete with doubts about more solo travel. Again, this mindset lasted about 30 hours. Where should I go next?
I just returned from a few weeks in Belgium and France, and a day in Italy. As both a passionate logophile and bibliophile, and often visit as many libraries as I can on every trip. I came away with distinct memories from each that I visited last month, especially one in Belgium.
My trip planning always includes some personal research about notable libraries. I am grateful that I discovered something really special about DeKrook, Ghent’s main public library. On the second floor of the library, I eventually found the nondescript-looking mailbox. In 2017, a woman named Tine Marie Van Damme founded an artist collective entitled Het Postkantoor. In addition to several other projects, Het Postkantoor created De Huisbus, a project that includes a special mailbox where people can leave letters for their deceased loved ones.
According to my research, Tine Marie wanted to write a letter to her grandmother who had passed away, and realized that while she could write a letter to Santa, there was no way to write a note to a dead loved one. She wrote her own letter anyway, and later established a post office box in Ghent to received grief letters. Tine Marie is still deeply involved in her endeavor.
According to the DeKrook’s website, an artist from the collective will respond to every grief letter. I hope so, because I left one in the mailbox, for my deceased daughter Christian. This act gave me a surprising amount of peace.
While walking amongst the sunshine in Bruges, I made my way to the main public library, the Biekorf. Usually, my first search inside, includes locating the foreign language section. The stacks had an ample selection of both French and English titles. Surprisingly, though, this library only housed fiction in these two languages. Still, both the interior and the exterior of the building provided a pleasant and welcoming atmosphere.
What a surprise! This home of text is truly inspiring. I spent more than a few minutes here, browsing the shelves and looking up at the stunning windows.
While the Louis Nucéra library itself was closed during my August visit, I took a challenging detour to find the famed, Tête Carrée. Signifying, “thinking inside the box,” this masterpiece is visually overwhelming in a good way. The sculptor Sacha Sosno designed this ominous structure which housed the administrative offices for the library. Don’t live Nice without seeing it.
I’m fortunate to enjoy many great meals at restaurants at home and abroad. Here’s my take on my favorite meal of 2025.
Somewhat spoiled, having lived most of my life in close proximity to Manhattan, few restaurants leave me longing for more, even a year after dining there.
When searching one of my Facebook groups for mention of Montepulciano, Italy, a phrase caught my eye. The writer spoke highly of a restaurant, Rosso Rubino. Truthfully, I didn’t delve deeply or peruse any menu. I simply made a lunch reservation for our first day there in September 2025.
My daughter and I arrived in Montepulciano a bit late, after a long drive from Bologna. After a challenging walk over sloped cobblestones with large suitcases, we arrived at our lodging. Then we rushed outside to find Rosso Rubino, afraid that we had missed our chance for lunch. Literally across the street, was a small oval sign for the restaurant. We walked in, and a woman, now known as an owner, greeted me with, “Debbie?” To our left, a small table by the window, held a sign saying, “reserved.” I’m a little sad that I don’t remember if it was in English or Italian! This was our table by the window.
My favorite meal in 2025 happened when my daughter and I both ordered the “Pici con Ragù Di Cinghiale.” We ordered a simple, but delicious red wine. Our pasta arrived, our forks got busy, and Zoë almost began crying with appreciation. She begged to go back for dinner the next night. Obviously, we did, and ordered the exact same meal!
I have two favorite pastimes when traveling to a new city. First, and foremost, I love exploring cafes, until I find my personal favorite. Then I return to it, usually on every day of my stay.
Next, I trust my GPS to get me to a library or two. By the time I arrive in a new city, I already have a list of notable libraries, having assembled the list when planning my journey.
Bologna, Biblioteca Salaborsa
Although the current library dates only from 2001, Salaborsa has a compelling history. In modern times, the building has housed a telegraph office, a basketball court, and a puppet theatre. Before these, the site was a central hub for public proclamations of justice, as long ago as 189 BC.
Today, one walks through the main hall, above a transparent floor, and can see ancient excavations from the 7th century BC. After several centuries of decline, very little remained of the Roman era by the Early Middle Ages. Throughout the next several hundred years, the structure was reimagined many times.
I felt privileged to experience the building’s stunning beauty, while consciously thinking about its extraordinary history.
Public library, Bologna
Cremona, Biblioteca Statale
This public library is, unsurprisingly, a very old structure. I greatly appreciated not only, its quiet elegance, but especially its designated, “silent area.” This isn’t an experience I have very often in the U.S. I smiled when I saw the sign and grinned even larger during the thirty minutes I sat in the large space. At least thirty patrons, of various ages, sat at the sturdy rectangular tables, all of which faced front. I heard only one whisper from a young girl, who immediately turned to me with an apologetic smile.
Coincidentally, or not, I noticed that my seat had a view of the travel section. There, I retrieved a Florida travel guide from 1998. Funny.
I learned that the library had only recently begun to add titles in other languages. On an inconspicuous shelf next to an empty desk, I found this international section. About 200 titles sat upright on the shelf, 65 in English. The remainder represented French, German, Spanish, and Tedesco, another variation of German.
Always connected to the deep sound of the cello, I had attempted to learn to play in my early 60s. Once each week, I drove to The Music Den for my lesson, but the pandemic hit. Another year went by, and I relocated, still dreaming of the cello, but distracted by my attempt to build a new life. Five years later, in the fall of 2024, I read, “Lev’s violin.” The story takes the reader to Cremona, Italy, where Andrea Amati designed and built the first cello first cello in the 1500s. Thus began a series of omens on a trip.
Cello Omen #1
Shortly after that, an omen, disguised as an article in the New York Times “appeared” to me. The subject was a young woman, who at an early age, decided that she would make violins. After multiple searches and segues, I found Ayoung An’s email, and in March 2025, sent her a message. Not fully expecting her to respond, I smiled madly when I received a message from Ayoung. a few weeks later. I confessed the reason for my contact, asked if I could meet her if I came to Cremona, and waited. Ayoung’s response was all the impetus I needed, and I proceeded to plan a trip, inspired by, and including a visit to Cremona, the birthplace of the Stradivarius violin and cello, and home to at least 150 “luthiers.”
Cello Omen #2
I put thoughts of violin makers and cello makers aside for my arrival in Cremona. But, in Montepulciano, the omens continued. My daughter wanted to see Montepulciano, and stand in the famous Piazza Grande, the location for a powerful scene in the film, “New Moon,” from the Twilight Saga. Prior to the film’s release in 2009, this square played a central role in Montepulciano, offering breathtaking views of the Tuscan landscape, along with notable Renaissance architecture.
Passing through the piazza before resting on the steps of Cathedral Santa Maria Assunta, I spotted a poster, obviously an omen. I had no idea that this city, known for its rich Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, housed the European Academy of Arts. I’m sure that my daughter wished I hadn’t seen the advertisement for the evening’s strings concert. She humored me as we entered the Palazzo Ricci, apparently the only Americans to do so. What followed were lovely performances by the academy’s students.
A few days later, my daughter and I left Montepulciano, and returned to Rome so that she could go home. The next morning, we arrived at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. Zoë began her trip home, and I began my voyage to Cremona. Several train rides later, I finally arrived at the Cremona station. The sole person to exit the train here, I doubted the intelligence of my plan. Upon arrival at the cobblestoned street of Vicolo Pertusio, I regained excitement for my plan. I unpacked, and wandered out to find some gelato. Yum. Definitely worth a stop here!
Cello Omen #4
After hours in the Museo del Violino, during which I cried, for reasons I cannot explain, I wandered for a few hours. I passed one luthier shop after another before arriving at Ayoung’s workshop, Arietti String. Expecting that the anticipation of my visit was one-sided, I was touched by her welcome. She told me that she was honored to meet me, and gifted me with a new box of rosin for my soon-to-be-rented cello. She asked if she could take a photo to remember me by, and we shared both a hug and a few tears at our parting.
After our meeting, I walked in and out of cobblestoned streets, and felt grateful, and determined to play the cello, at least a little.
Cello Omen #5
The next day, after a full day of wandering throughout the small city, I made my way back to my lodging.
When I arrived, I encountered a couple, a bit older than me, standing at the entrance to the Airbnb. Of course, I entered into full conversation with these strangers, as I usually do. Lillian and Bill, an American couple from Oregon had arrived from Venice, and after a long, personal conversation, I discovered that Lillian was a cellist and teacher! She was so supportive of my passion and encouraged me not to ignore it. We parted, me, with tears and an exchange of numbers. Lillian and I agreed that there were “no coincidences.” We have been in touch several times since.
Cello Omen #6
I met Lillian and Bill on my last night in Cremona. The next morning, I hobbled along cobblestones, with a suitcase whose wheels didn’t fully cooperate. Eventually, I boarded my train, and arrived in Lyon.
My morning began with a fabulous small-group tour with Aidan, from “Get Your Guide.” Afterwards, I ambled around Lyon’s 1st arrondissement. I found myself at Place Louis Pradel, where a cellist was playing in front of the Hotel de Ville (town hall). After he finished his song, I dropped a euro in his cello case, and he smiled and voiced, “Merci.” Once again, I felt compelled to tell him that I was beginning cello lessons again, telling this in a self-deprecating manner and referring to my age. The young man spoke sweetly and, in congratulated me on my decision to start. Being encouraged, in French, spoke volumes to me.
Cello Omen #7
Lyon is not a city known for makers of violins and cellos. When I walked from 1st arrondissement to the 2nd, searching for an appealing spot for lunch, I turned to face the storefront of Jean-Yves Rouveyre, Luthier.
Lessons
I rented a cello a few weeks after I arrived home, and am on my way, slowly.
Hotel Damaso (September 2025) I’d definitely stay here again. The room was well-appointed and the staff was lovely, helpful, and responsive. Its location, in the Trastevere area, was perfect for exploring. In addition, there were many great restaurants nearby. https://www.hoteldamaso.it/
Hotel Romano (September 2025) Personally, I’d skip this one. It’s very close to the Coliseum, if this is important to you, but it’s located in a chaotic spot with lots of noise.
Bologna, Italy
Art Hotel Orologio (September 2025) This a great little gem overlooking the Piazza Maggiore, walkable to everything. Our room was comfortable, quiet, and attractive. Breakfast was plentiful, delicious, and served in a beautiful room. https://www.art-hotel-orologio.com/
Montepulciano, Italy
Appartamento il Buonumore (September 2025) I found this on booking.com, and loved it. Somewhat challenging to reach if you’re dragging a lot of luggage, it’s well worth it. You’ll find it on a lovely street, and it’s walkable to just about anywhere you’d like to go. https://www.facebook.com/appartamentoilbuonumore
Le Royal Hotel Lyon – MGallery Collection (September 2025) Not inexpensive, I don’t recommend this hotel. I spent the equivalent of $1650 for five nights (breakfast NOT included), and my “upgraded” room was a bit shabby, and cramped, even by European standards. The location in the 2nd arrondissement was okay, but there are more interesting spots to stay.
Paris, France
Hôtel Grand Cœur Latin (September 2025) Quite expensive, at $500/night, this was not a good value. When in Paris, I always prefer to stay in the Latin Quarter, which is why I chose it. I booked through booking.com, but wasn’t informed about the construction taking place on the small street. This made curb appeal lacking, and walking difficult.
Menton, France
Bellavista Vieux Menton (June 2024) Well worth the many, many steps to reach this apartment, because the view is spectacular. The host was so helpful, and the apartment was spotless, and near to many great restaurants, as well as gelaterias and boulangeries. This is a must-stay, as long as you are agile. https://www.bedroomvillas.com/property/bellavista-vieux-menton/BC-13752654
Having just returned from weeks of solo travel, I am trying to decide exactly how I feel about journeying alone. Some of the joys are obvious, as are some of the discomforts. I wish more female travelers talked about the whole truth about solo travel.
At only twenty years old when I first traveled alone, it wasn’t by choice. I’d been backpacking in Europe with two friends, staying in hostels and rooming houses. In Nice, France, we’d rented scooters for our last day there. Somehow, someone robbed me of all my important belongings, at a traffic stop.
Sarah, Renée and I owned train tickets to go from Nice to Munich the next day. I had no passport and no American Express traveler’s checks (this was a long time ago). I cut my eight-week trip to six, the girls went on to Munich, and I stayed alone in Nice. My passport and traveler’s checks had to be re-issued so that I could fly back to New Jersey. Alone in Nice for two days, I stayed close to my accomodations, probably vulnerable without a passport and with little cash, but didn’t worry at all. I spent my time concocting a story to tell my mom about why I was suddenly returning home so early.
Over the next thirty years that followed, I took many vacations, but always with a partner, or with a family member. An occasional solo overnight in a hotel in Long Island, NY, for business promised a small adventure. Only once I divorced, did I plan a quick stay in Manhattan as a treat, museum-hopping, and eating solo at places like Gramercy Park Tavern. I loved the idea of a mini-adventure. I wandered, walked a lot (without wearing an Apple watch to prove my activity), window-shopped. At the time, I didn’t realize that it was the beginning of my wanderlust, at least in my head.
In the decades that followed, I suffered the loss of a child, before welcoming my three children, now all adults. I navigated through a serious health issue and a divorce before taking my next solo journey, in 2010.
First solo trip in a long time…
Other than flights, lodging, and train reservations, I didn’t make specific plans for my trip to France that included Paris, Lille, and Blois, in the Loire Valley. I love getting off a plane in a new city or getting on a train to another. Possibilities always seemed limitless when I got away from where I lived, although I was, and am, still plagued by worry about my kids, old as they now are! I woke up each morning, eager for whatever unfolded along my way. Repeatedly, I talked to strangers, walked and walked miles, ate alone. It was fabulous, until it got dark. I recall now the feeling of loneliness that replaced my euphoric sense of freedom and curiosity present only an hour before. At that time, I thought it was because I had recently gotten divorced. Now I know it as just a truth about solo travel.
Since 2010, I’ve taken at least a dozen trips, many overseas, but all with either my daughter or my best friend. Not until 2024, did I go it alone again. My friend Sophia and I had long planned to do a winter trip to Strasbourg, France for the Christmas markets, and I hoped that we would really do it. When that didn’t look promising, I decided it was time to just go, somewhere.
Solo trip after 14 years
Menton, France is a happy place for me. I spent two days there in 2017, and dreamt of returning, which I did, solo, in 2024. Every day brought amazing opportunities, all blessed with the magnificence of the Mediterranean Sea. The nights, though, caused me to doubt the wiseness of my decision to travel alone. During dinner on my last night there, I told myself that solo travel was perhaps too lonely for me. A day after returning home, I had already begun thinking about a next trip. The conflict is real. https://wanderlearnrepeat.com/my-gift-from-michael-and-a-flight-to-france/
Longer solo journey
Again, my son, Michael offered me a round-trip ticket to Europe. How could I not take advantage of this? Originally, I had a fantasy of staying abroad for a month, but compromised. Challenging myself to a longer solo trip than last year’s, I settled on a three-week trip. Starting in Italy with my daughter for eight days was perfect. Two weeks alone followed. To most solo travelers, I am certain this is not impressive. In my circle of not-so-young women, I’m considered the brave one!
My plan took me to Cremona, Italy, Paris, Lyon, and Rouen in France, and Geneva. Every day brought memorable sights and moments. The nights again brought discomfort. The day before my scheduled return, I looked forward to being home. Really, this solo travel thing is probably too hard for me. Again, the day after I arrived home, I thought, “I’m crazy to give this up!” https://www.rome2rio.com/map/Rome/Paris?search=Rome,Cremona,Lyon,Geneva,Rouen,Paris#trips
As a writer, I am obviously and unapologetically drawn to libraries. Although I had already spent hundreds of hours in libraries by the age of thirteen, my true love affair with these institutions began when my Uncle Wayne asked if I’d like to help him during summer school. That was the first instance when I thought about the magic of a library in every city.
Unc was a remedial reading teacher, well-loved by his students, probably due to his unconventional personality. He was, at all times, both instructor and prankster. His popularity with his students, was evident to me, even then.
Although the North Brunswick high school library wasn’t particularly beautiful, my time spent there was memorable. It sparked my passion for finding a library in every city. Thanks, Unc, because it was there that I became addicted to research.https://www.tampabay.com/archive/2001/02/13/obituaries/
I wish I had thought to document my thoughts about every library I’ve visited over the last many decades, but here are a few of my favorites to date:
Butler Library at Columbia University (I took my son, Nick on a college visit. I’ve never felt smarter than when I stood in these halls)
As of today, I am committed to visiting a library in every new city or town that I visit, starting in Italy next week. Sono così felice di iniziare! Si heureuse de commencer! I’m so happy to begin. Ciao.
