• Chapter 7: (Ve)Nice To Meet You

    “Venice”. The name conjures up images of slim mustachioed accordion players balancing on curvy black gondolas, serenading young couples in love as they serenely float through narrow dark-watered canals edged with cobblestone streets. Well I was sort of toying with the idea of a gondola ride – you gotta do one if you’re in Venice, right? – as Rachel and I began to stroll through the town. But do you know what they don’t tell you? That ALL OF THE GONDOLIERS are really really really incredibly annoyingly handsome. Nuh-uh, no sir. I’m not shucking out $80 so my wife and I can recline at the feet of a muscular tight-shirted…

  • Chapter 6: Roman Around

    Rome is known as the “Eternal City” and “Capital of the World”. While strolling through its streets, everywhere you look you will see myriad and resplendent reminders of the city’s ancient history, such as tourists eating at a McDonald’s in a 2,000-year-old plaza, tourists eating at a KFC in a 2,000-year-old plaza, and sometimes even – if the late afternoon light is right on a warm summer’s day – tourists eating at a Hard Rock Cafe in a 2,000-year-old plaza. Magical. Rachel and I arrived in Rome on July 11, unbeknownst to us, the day that football-mad Italy played England in the 2020 UEFA European Football Championship held every four…

  • Chapter 5: Under The Tuscan Sun

    It’s interesting to note that every restaurant, bar, grocery store, train station, and other public space we’ve been in France and Italy so far has played exclusively English-language music. (I’ve heard more Rihanna in three weeks over here than I did in the prior three years in America.) It’s just a bit jarring to be sipping espresso in a quaint Italian cafe to the dulcet voices of the Beastie Boys. Although I do, in fact, love fighting for my right to party. Our next stop on Sam & Rachel’s Excellent Adventure brings us to Florence (Firenze), the birthplace of the modern Italian language, the Renaissance, and the author who created…

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  • Chapter 4: A Lighthouse And Some Castles

    There’s a lighthouse high in the hills surrounding Lake Como which can be reached by riding the funiculare (cable car) 1,000 meters up, then hiking higher for a half-hour through narrow cobblestone streets. The base of the lighthouse has an amazing panoramic view of the city of Como, the lake, and the mountains. Far below us, tiny boats left tiny wakes, and we were high above the private seaplanes periodically circling and then landing on the water, each carrying (I assume) crates of golden toilet paper to George Clooney’s mansion. The lighthouse is dedicated to Alessandro Volta, the inventor of the electric battery, and Como’s favorite son. Wow, do they…

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  • Chapter 3: Como Sail Away

    On Tuesday we left Paris for Lake Como, where we will spend seven nights before joining my uncle and his wife in Florence. All went well traveling with 150 pounds of luggage and a stubborn dog, although the 6-minute layover to switch trains in Zurich was…close. We have a nice little AirBnb in the town of Como, which is a bit touristy but which holds the distinct advantage of being the lake town closest to the train station. Our apartment has a lovely balcony overlooking the narrow streets. When we initially came overseas, we were under the assumption that we’d stay in France for a few weeks and then settle…

  • Chapter 2: Paris(ish)

    Lesson #1: French elevator doors do not reopen if you attempt to walk through them as they are closing. Lesson #2: It is tough to play off an embarrassing incident in front of a stranger if you don’t speak their language. You can’t say ‘Holy cow, guess it didn’t see me, huh?’ Lesson #3: If you are a large American man who got your entire body violently smashed in an elevator door while trying to get on, then squeezed through to maniacally say ‘Bonjour!’ to the French woman onboard, you will not make a new friend on that elevator. On June 21, Rachel and I flew from Charleston, SC to…

  • Chapter 1: The First Chapter

    Knock knock. Who’s there? Europe. Europe who? DID YOU JUST CALL ME A POO? That is the sort of quality travel content you’ll find on this blog about two Southerners and their dog moving abroad. I’m Sam. I’m a stock trader. Sitting on my right (your left) is my wife Rachel, a college professor of literacy studies. Lying upside down at our feet, in a miasma of Brie-induced flatulence, is Lily, our French Bulldog. We’re ‘Muricans. I work remotely, managing money for a family office who has for some time been attempting to move me to their new headquarters in London. Rachel and I have always wanted to live overseas…

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