I say any town with three k’s in it’s name has got to be something special (just don’t throw any American History into this bit). Just like in German, you pronounce every letter, which gives you roughly: Ka-no-ka. Knokke is a posh town. In a nut shell, if you aren’t wearing a fur coat, mittens, or hat in the winter, you aren’t a regular visitor here. Serious.
We picked a pretty foggy day to visit Knokke in late December. With the wind and cold temperatures it was difficult to enjoy the normally beautiful scenery. I remember my feet were freezing that day and after 30 minutes of walking, I couldn’t move my toes. Misery.
Besides walking there are plenty of things to do in winter on the shore. In the off-season dogs are allowed to play on the beach. Kids pedal bicycles or four-wheelers on the sidewalk. There are also a few joggers and people fishing on the wave barriers. You could take in the architecture. I loved the thatched roof tops on the buildings. They look like orderly bird nests made of water reeds. The older thatched roofs are especially pretty because green moss grows on them. There is also plenty of art to be seen or money to blow at the casino. Still all these things can’t beat a hot coffee in a cozy, warm restaurant on the beach.
We stopped at a Brasserie called Andorra and ordered three cappuccinos. I secretly wanted to put my toes into the hot mixtures. But on all thoughts, that’s just gross. I noticed that people prefer to speak in French in this town, even though the way they speak French it sounds very obnoxious and harsh. I spoke in German to the waiter and some how that worked alright. We still had a little bit of hunger so we decided to each enjoy a small bowl of soup, or so we thought. Because Knokke is a so affluent, we mistakenly believed a 14 Euro fish soup would be a small appetizer. Instead we each received a deep, enamel crock pot with fresh fish, muscles, crab, shrimp and veggies. My bowl alone was enough to feed a small army. Lucky me, I love soup. It was simply delicious and filling. My toes were warm and toasty from the inside out.
In some ways Knokke remindes me of Harbor Island in Tampa. It is a cute town and a nice place to visit if you have ties there or an eager wallet wanting to be emptied. To see more photos, click here.
Things have been awfully busy the past couple of months. There just wasn’t any traveling to report but we did discover a few lakes just south of Munich that I wanted to share. That will be another post for another day.
For now I am completely stoked that we are going north this holiday. Way north. First we will travel to Belgium and meet our friend for a short tour of Brussels [in German, Brüssel]. I’ll have to brush up on understanding broken English because I’ve have no clue how to speak French, Flemish or Dutch. Is Flemish Dutch or is Dutch Flemish or are they completely different languages, ugh?! Yet, I’m looking forward to Belgium “french” fries, waffles, chocolate, and beer. Ew, so healthy.
Then we head to an island on the German coast of the North Sea, Amrum, a North Frisian Island. I will get to ride on a ferry over the North Sea and see large sand dunes and mud flats. The language should be cool, a mix of English and German. I presume that on the menu will be an assortment of sausages and hopefully seafood, like Amrumer Pannfisch, pan-fried fish, with fried potatoes, bacon, onions and, most importantly, a topping of North Sea shrimp.
As a child, my family pretty much vacationed at the same two places in Southwest Florida. From the time I was four until even today, there was always Maderia Beach and Lido Beach. The comfort in these types of vacations was that every year we could relax, explore the surrounding areas without the rush that we’d never return again. We developed a game for finding those hidden gems about these places. Now that I am older and practically exploring completely new territory as an expat everyday, this last trip was a bit of reprieve from the total submersion into the unfamiliar. Once again, we revisited Southern France - this time equipped with our mountain bikes, this time with more French under our belts and this time to awaiting happy and healthy friends and family.
Last year we stayed with Gisela but since she has a listing on the web, she’s been booked solid this Summer. It was so good to dine with her on her new Terrase: ‘kraftig’ red wine, cold chicken and tomatoes from the region hit the spot for us. 
It never ceases to amaze me how informative she is about the region - giving tips, helping us with the French language and letting us in as to where the grapes are good for a-picking. Gisela also arranged for us to stay with here about 400 meters away from her house at this beautiful bed and breakfast villa called Mas du Magnolia, a sort of grand hotel of B&Bs. The owners ‘escaped’ from Paris (as we understood it) and one of them is a landscape architect, having designed around 22 golf courses in his career. The couple is extremely friendly and know how to present an excellent breakfast. I even learned what is a coddled egg 
We stayed in the Picholine room, so cute with the walls covered with fabric.
During our week long stay in the Provence we managed two mountain biking trips. We started at Menerbes and attempted to navigate the blue/orange and blue/white signs but they only lead to the major cities. It’s best to bring a topographic map like those provided by www.ign.fr If you are up for some vertical challenge, solitude and Mother Earth serenity, definitely ride the ridge of the Petit Luberon. Absolutely beautiful and a spectacular view. We stared from Vidaque, the western entrance and rode through the park to the east entrance and then through Bonnieux. I wish we could have stopped there longer, because it a place that needs exploring. But next time with a girlfriend.
We had our first experience with a 4-day long Mistral, which blew away all cloud cover and any chance of rain. Even though the sun shined, the cloudless night and heavy winds brought the temperature down much cooler than we anticipated and made it less appealing to change into a swimsuit let alone jump in 17 °C water. But the weather was perfect for another ride from Croagnes to Sault and back. I recommend riding to Sault by bike because the scent of lavender in the air is heavenly and the incline is not so bad. We are already planing our next mountain biking trip: attempting the Mont Ventoux, the “Giant of Provence”.
