As Europe’s richest country, and ranked second in the entire world, it was easy for us to think that the luxe in Luxembourg would stem from the same source as deluxe, or luxury, but it doesn’t. How’s that for a teaser. 😉
Join your GypsyNesters as we simply gawk at the grandeur of Luxembourg, the American Cemetery and the most beautiful balcony in the world… CONTINUE READING >>
As Europe’s richest country, and ranked second in the entire world, it was easy for us to think that the luxe in Luxembourg would stem from the same source as deluxe, or luxury, but it doesn’t.
The name comes from lucilem, the Celtic word for little, and burg, German for castle. The combination perfectly reflects this tiny crossroads nation’s long history of being set between much larger powers.
Grand Duke Guillaume II
Slightly smaller than Rhode Island, Luxembourg is one of the smallest countries in Europe, and is surrounded by France, Belgium, and Germany.
Over the centuries she has managed to navigate between her neighbors to remain the world’s last grand duchy, meaning that she is ruled by a grand duke.
Through the diplomacy and royal relationships of the dukes, and the strategic placement of its namesake castle, Luxembourg has not only survived, but flourished.
As we entered Luxembourg City the fortifications certainly didn’t look to be small at all, but then the name refers to the original Castle of Lucilinburhuc from back in the year 963. There have been significant upgrades since then.
In fact, over time, the city has become one big honkin’ fortress. Walking inside the walls, we got a glimpse of what life looked like centuries ago.
Space was at a premium within the ramparts, so the streets are narrow and homes crowded together.
Down one little lane we noticed an arch inside a tiny courtyard displaying crossed arrows above the doorway, and our guide explained how the sign was thought to help avoid the plague during rampant outbreaks.
We think THIS guy would do a better job scaring the pants off of any plague!
The sores incurred from the dreaded disease looked a lot like arrow wounds and, while we doubt the ploy was effective, we certainly understand the need for grasping at straws arrows.
We’d have been all over any plague-avoidance tactics.
One thing the city had no trouble keeping away was invaders.
Much of the fortification was natural, as we saw when we walked along the Chemin de la Corniche.
This walkway was built atop the ramparts on the massive cliffs of the Alzette valley in the 17th century, adding to Luxembourg’s already impressive defenses.
We could almost hear the city’s founders exclaiming their delight when finding this spot, what a perfect place from which to drop flaming oil on our enemies’ heads!
The lookout along the walkway is often called the most beautiful balcony in Europe, and the view makes it easy to see why Luxembourg was once known as the Gibraltar of the North.
An assault would have been nearly impossible since the city had the luxury of practically perfect protection on three sides.
Back in the center, of town we wandered around the main square and discovered a veritable smörgåsbord of languages.
Luxembourg’s location makes for an interesting buffet of both spoken and written words.
While most of the signs around town are lettered in French, official business is conducted in Luxembourgish, French, and German. Wandering around we overheard dozens of languages, and sitting at a sidewalk café in the main square became a linguistic feast.
Staff and customers alike switched between tongues without missing a beat, mixing it up in the same conversation, even the same sentences.
Playing off the term Spanglish, we dubbed these phenomena Gerfranbourgish (we also giggled over Luxemgermench and Franluxerman – that was a really fun lunch!)
We also happened upon what claims to be the oldest pub in Luxembourg, dating back to 1691.
We knew this because they proudly announced it in multiple languages on a sign out front.
Honestly, we appreciated the sign more for providing a peek into some translations than its informative properties, but we give big snaps for embracing the local diversity of speaking.
Lest we forget, the American Cemetery
Just outside the city, at Hamm, we briefly returned to the United States when we visited the hallowed ground of the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial, which is officially American soil.
Luxembourg presented the land to the US in perpetuity in appreciation for helping free the country from Nazi occupation.
In 1939, Luxembourg declared itself neutral as war broke out. Germany had other ideas, invading on May 10, 1940, then occupying the country and sending the duke and government into exile.
Two years later, the Third Reich formally annexed the duchy and declared Luxembourgers to be German citizens. At that point they began drafting thousands of men to fight in the war.
Strict rules — including a ban on speaking French — were imposed. A resistance movement formed, but opposition to German rule was severely punished.
Passive resistance was most common, with refusing to speak German at the top of the list. Many Luxembourgers returned to the old Luxembourgish, and, in the process, most likely saved the language from disappearing.
U.S. forces liberated Luxembourg in September 1944, but were almost immediately engaged in the Battle of the Bulge and parts of the country fell back into German hands.
The allies ultimately prevailed, which was instrumental in ending World War II, and many of the soldiers who lost their lives in that combat are buried at the Luxembourg American Cemetery.
We somberly walked the grounds where over five thousand soldiers are interred.
One of them is General George S. Patton, who survived the battle only to perish in an automobile accident a few months later.
He was originally buried alongside his troops, but in an effort to keep the surrounding graves from being trampled, he was moved to the forefront of the site.
As we were leaving, we met the cemetery superintendent, Scott DeJardins, who lives at the site.
He explained to us that because of the unique position of this — and the many other United States Military Cemeteries around the world — as American territory, there is always an American caretaker.
Mr. DeJardin is happily serving his fifth assignment in the last nine years, and is headed to Normandy next.
It’s a job he clearly loves, in fact he said “I’d tell my boss I’d do it for free, but I’m afraid he might take me seriously.”
A welcome bit of levity in our very solemn visit.
With our explorations of Luxembourg complete, we took to heart an old saying.
When we heard about Livingston, a tiny outpost on the Guatemalan coast with an intriguing history and only accessible by boat, we knew we had to go.
So from the busy port of Puerto Barrios, we sought passage north.
After some difficulty trying to decipher the schedule and ticketing procedure for the trip… CONTINUE READING >>
When we heard about Livingston, a tiny outpost on the Guatemalan coast with an intriguing history and only accessible by boat, we knew we had to go.
So, from the busy port of Puerto Barrios we sought passage north.
After some difficulty trying to decipher the schedule and ticketing procedure for the trip, a young man named Salvin came to our aid.
He grew up in Puerto Barrios and had gone to college in Texas, and once he heard our confused English — and poor attempts at Spanish — he jumped in to help us.
Salvin explained that there were no tickets for these small, open ferries. The process is that everybody just climbs on board, hands over fifty Quetzal (about ten dollars), and the skiff leaves whenever it gets full… a boatload so to speak.
We thanked Salvin and stepped aboard, and in no time we were motoring our way across the harbor and up the coast to our destination.
Along the shore, the jungle was so dense that it looked like a solid wall. That and the rugged terrain are what have conspired to keep Livingston so isolated.
Approaching the little town, we still had almost no idea what to expect.
We knew that Livingston has Guatemala’s highest concentration of Garifuna — the descendants of the Carib and Arawak natives — and West Africans who ended up along this coast after multiple trials and tribulations.
In 1635, two Spanish ships carrying Africans to the West Indies for the slave trade shipwrecked near St. Vincent.
The survivors swam ashore and settled among the Carib and Arawak.
Known as Black Caribs, they became the dominant population of St. Vincent until the British invaded in 1763.
Over the following years the Garifuna people were killed and scattered by the British until 1798, when their remnants were exiled to the Island of Roatan off the coast of Honduras.
From Roatan the Garifuna migrated to the mainland of Honduras and settled all along the the Caribbean coast of Belize, Guatemala and Nicaragua.
Hundreds of years later, Livingston’s isolation has created a remarkably untouched example of Garifuna culture.
As we headed up the hill from the docks we took that all in.
We basically had the place to ourselves and the village has an authentic, funky charm that we imagined to be a lot like how the Caribbean islands must have been before they were so developed for tourists.
Livingston is tiny so we were able to walk the main part of it in about an hour.
After topping the hill from the coast and crossing in an open boat, we had had quite a bit of sun and sought shelter in a very cool little inn/restaurant, Hotel Gil, overlooking the bay.
We had noticed it from the boat on our way in and were intrigued how it was built in a stair-step fashion up the side of the steep hill.
When we went inside, no one was there. We walked toward the back and a woman appeared who led us to the restaurant.
We had our own private balcony with tranquil Caribbean views, so we ordered up a couple of the local brews, Gallo.
Gallo is Guatemala’s oldest continually produced beer, dating back to 1896 and by far the most popular beer in the country. It is also the best beer ever made, or maybe it was just the surroundings that made us think so.
Suppose we’ll have to try some in the United States, where it is known as Famosa, to be certain.
Fantastic surroundings and suds aside, the restaurant portion of this establishment left much to be desired, as we had shown up between meal times.
The menu consisted of a few sandwiches from the cooler and some chips. We were dead set on getting some tapado, so we set out to find some.
Tapado is the Garifuna´s signature dish, a seafood soup with an entire fish, shrimp and whatever shellfish was caught lately — soft-shell crab on our particular day — with plantain and/or green bananas in a coconut milk broth spiced with cilantro and a hint of hot peppers.
The hot peppers set off the sweetness of the coconut milk perfectly.
Most of the cafes in town offer it, and Restaurante El Malecon was no exception.
There was the added bonus that El Malecon sits right in the center of town, so we could watch all the goings on from our open air table on the porch.
After just one bite of tapado, we concluded that we had discovered both the best soup and the best beer in the world on the same day.
What are the chances?
But by mid-bowl the entire feel of the town changed drastically.
The tour groups from a cruise ship arrived and suddenly the tiny outpost –including our peaceful restaurant — was overrun with tourists.
On the upside, a traditional Garifuna band was brought in to entertain the invading hoards.
The ensemble consisted of musicians playing several types of rhythm instruments, drums, a turtle shell, conch shell and maracas, while chanting lyrics.
It made for a totally unique sound, and very entertaining.
But as fun they were, there were just too many people, so after a couple of songs we had to bail.
WATCH: A day in Livingston (with highlights of the incredible Garifuna band!)
As we walked off our meal and took in the town, we were struck by the military presence we’d seen.
Livingston, being the sleepy little outpost it was, didn’t seem in need of such heavily armed, fully camouflaged men in uniform.
To us, they stuck out like sore thumbs among the gentle townsfolk. It might be part of everyday life in Guatemala but it was hard for us to get used to the soldiers patrolling streets with automatic rifles.
In an attempt to avoid the crowds, we headed back down the hill toward the docks and noticed a small road leading along the water with only a few Mayan and Garafuna townspeople anywhere to be seen.
This led us to the fishing docks. Actually, the overwhelming smell of fish led us through a tiny alley and we popped out on a dock that was completely covered with fish drying in the sun.
They were making saltfish.
Looking around, every inch of every dock was covered, there were thousands of fish – cleaned, split open, salted, and laid out flat to dry.
The fishermen were hanging around in a dockside watering hole and came out to flip the fish every now and then.
No telling how many centuries this routine has been taking place.
Following the road further, the town soon gave way to the relentless jungle.
We didn’t go all the way to the end — we didn’t have to — we knew the end was not far because there are no roads in or out of Livingston.
Only the only way out was on little boats we came in on. It was at that point we had no clue had no idea when they stopped running.
With sundown fast approaching, that realization had us sadly heading back to the docks.
Absolutely blown away by this little town in Guatemala only accessible by water, so much culture!.. CONTINUE READING or enlarge video >>
When we heard about Livingston, a tiny outpost on the Guatemalan coast with an intriguing history and only accessible by boat, we knew we had to go. So from the busy port of Puerto Barrios we sought passage north.
Approaching the little town, we still had almost no idea what to expect. We knew that Livingston has Guatemala’s highest concentration of Garifuna, the descendants of the Carib and Arawak Indians, and West Africans who ended up along this coast after multiple trials and tribulations… continue reading about beautiful Livingston, Guatemala >>
“After packing their youngest off to college, the Gypsy Nesters hit the road and never looked back. ‘We’re going down in a ball of flames!’ says”… READ THE FEATURE HERE and leave a comment here
So psyched about this article in Medium!
“After packing their youngest off to college, the Gypsy Nesters hit the road and never looked back. ‘We’re going down in a ball of flames!’ says”… READ THE FEATURE HERE and leave a comment here
One thing the city had no trouble keeping away was invaders.
