NICE - Côte d’Azur / France
(2000)
Glamour, the exorbitantly expensive Côte d’Azur, and the great sibling war.
Bienvenue à Nice!
We're off to the French Riviera. My trip to Nice wasn’t exactly a typical vacation, though; it was a genuine sociological experiment. We were a group of four women and one lone, brave guy. And as if that dynamic didn’t already provide enough fodder for any reality TV show, one of the women happened to be his younger sister. Spoiler alert: the hormonal and familial equilibrium lasted exactly until the French sun and the unforgiving cobblestones of the Old Town took their toll.
Bienvenue à Nice!
We're off to the French Riviera. My trip to Nice wasn’t exactly a typical vacation, though; it was a genuine sociological experiment. We were a group of four women and one lone, brave guy. And as if that dynamic didn’t already provide enough fodder for any reality TV show, one of the women happened to be his younger sister. Spoiler alert: the hormonal and familial equilibrium lasted exactly until the French sun and the unforgiving cobblestones of the Old Town took their toll.
When the Côte d’Azur turns into a family crisis zone:
Nice is beautiful, but the city stretches on forever. I had a firm grip on my analog camera and the light was perfect, yet the sightseeing tour just wouldn’t end. We marched on and on, past grand buildings and luxury hotels. But just as we women were bravely gritting our teeth, it happened: my younger sister’s feet went on total strike. She couldn't take another step. That was the end of the line.
Nice is beautiful, but the city stretches on forever. I had a firm grip on my analog camera and the light was perfect, yet the sightseeing tour just wouldn’t end. We marched on and on, past grand buildings and luxury hotels. But just as we women were bravely gritting our teeth, it happened: my younger sister’s feet went on total strike. She couldn't take another step. That was the end of the line.
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What followed was an absolutely legendary, textbook sibling squabble right in the middle of the promenade—him in "But we still have to see these three churches!" mode, and her in "I am not moving another single centimeter" mode. The three of us other women stood nearby, thoroughly amused, and kept an eye out for the next café to smooth things over with a cool drink.
Colline du Château: The Castle Hill that broke the sister
If you want to know where the great sibling rivalry finally came to a head, look up or down at the Colline du Château (Castle Hill). This imposing, 92-meter-high hill separates the beautiful Old Town from the harbor. The absurd thing is that you’ll look in vain for an actual *château* (castle) up there—the French razed the former fortress to the ground back in 1706.
If you want to know where the great sibling rivalry finally came to a head, look up or down at the Colline du Château (Castle Hill). This imposing, 92-meter-high hill separates the beautiful Old Town from the harbor. The absurd thing is that you’ll look in vain for an actual *château* (castle) up there—the French razed the former fortress to the ground back in 1706.
View from the Château
Today, the mountain is a vast, magnificent park and the ultimate hotspot for the perfect analog panoramic photo. But for the younger sister’s aching feet, this mountain was the ultimate final boss.Today, the mountain is a vast, magnificent park and the ultimate hotspot for the perfect analog panoramic photo. But for the younger sister’s aching feet, this mountain was the ultimate final boss.
Today, the mountain is a vast, magnificent park and the ultimate hotspot for the perfect analog panoramic photo. But for the younger sister’s aching feet, this mountain was the ultimate final boss.Today, the mountain is a vast, magnificent park and the ultimate hotspot for the perfect analog panoramic photo. But for the younger sister’s aching feet, this mountain was the ultimate final boss.
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The Stairs of Doom (or the lazy hack): To get to the top, you either have to conquer hundreds of grueling steps—or be smart and use the free Art Nouveau elevator (*Ascenseur du Château*) hidden right inside the rock face. Naturally, we chose the hard way on foot back then... a major strategic error for family harmony!
The picture-perfect view of the bay: Once you reach the top, you are rewarded with arguably the most famous postcard view in the South of France. You look down at the sweeping Promenade des Anglais and the sea—shimmering in a shade of turquoise so stunningly perfect, it practically compels you to snap three photos in a row. |
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The analog DIY marvel: Nice in widescreen format. This photo is a very special treasure on my website. Take a close look: this isn’t a quick smartphone panorama, but a genuine analog double-shot masterpiece from the year 2000! I was standing on the Schlossberg; I took the first photo, panned the camera to the right with millimeter precision, and snapped the second shot. It wasn't until days later, after the film was developed, that I could see whether the two prints actually lined up. Here on the page, I’ve stitched them together for you!
Cathedrale Orthodoxe Russe St. Nicholas
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Saint Nicholas Cathedral: A slice of Moscow amidst palm trees
After the Schlossberg drama was behind us, we headed for a building that, at first glance, makes you think you’ve completely mistaken your latitude: the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of St. Nicholas. There you are, standing in the middle of the sunny French Riviera, looking through the palm trees, when suddenly you find yourself gazing at a huge, colorful Russian Orthodox church with five onion domes!
After the Schlossberg drama was behind us, we headed for a building that, at first glance, makes you think you’ve completely mistaken your latitude: the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of St. Nicholas. There you are, standing in the middle of the sunny French Riviera, looking through the palm trees, when suddenly you find yourself gazing at a huge, colorful Russian Orthodox church with five onion domes!
Three facts to marvel at (and show off with):
- The largest of its kind: Opened in 1912, the cathedral is the largest Russian Orthodox church in all of Western Europe.
- The Imperial Drama: Why is this structure here in the first place? In the 19th century, Nice was the absolute favorite winter destination for the Russian nobility. When the eldest son of Tsar Alexander II—Tsarevich Nicholas—died tragically young of meningitis in Nice in 1865 at the age of just 20, the Tsar purchased the park. Tsar Nicholas II later had this magnificent memorial church built on that very spot.
- Russian soil in France: The building is not merely a museum—Orthodox religious services are still actively held here to this day. Following a fierce, decades-long legal battle, the entire property now officially belongs to the Russian Federation.
As dusk falls, the narrow, winding alleys of the Old Town (Vieux Nice) transform into a magical, lantern-lit labyrinth teeming with life, where the aroma of fresh pasta and seafood wafts through the air from charming bistros.
Parc Phœnix
Parc Phœnix: Flamingos, a tropical jungle, and the diplomatic peace offering.
After the "Onion Dome War" at the Russian cathedral, we all desperately needed to slow things down a bit. Our final major destination on the itinerary was Parc Phœnix, at the western end of the Promenade des Anglais.
Parc Phœnix: Flamingos, a tropical jungle, and the diplomatic peace offering.
After the "Onion Dome War" at the Russian cathedral, we all desperately needed to slow things down a bit. Our final major destination on the itinerary was Parc Phœnix, at the western end of the Promenade des Anglais.
For my analog camera, the park was an absolute paradise. The undeniable showpiece is the *Diamant Vert* (Green Diamond)—one of Europe’s largest freestanding exotic greenhouses! The gigantic glass pyramid towers 25 meters into the sky. As soon as you step inside, the tropical, 90 percent humidity hits you instantly. You walk past towering tree ferns and rare orchids, and watch colorful butterflies and pink flamingos bathing.
The Green Lungs:
A Botanical World Record. Describing the park’s botanical diversity is a task of immense proportions. The park is home to over 2,500 different plant species from every continent [1.17]! The absolute highlight inside the enormous greenhouse is its six distinct climate zones—in just a few minutes, you can walk from a hot, humid equatorial rainforest straight into a bone-dry cactus desert filled with spiny giants towering meters high.
A Botanical World Record. Describing the park’s botanical diversity is a task of immense proportions. The park is home to over 2,500 different plant species from every continent [1.17]! The absolute highlight inside the enormous greenhouse is its six distinct climate zones—in just a few minutes, you can walk from a hot, humid equatorial rainforest straight into a bone-dry cactus desert filled with spiny giants towering meters high.
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Calais / France
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There is something incredibly soothing yet exciting about sitting on the beach while huge, brightly lit ferries glide majestically past in the background, setting a course for the open sea. Naturally, my analog camera was ready for action: the soft evening light breaking across the waves, the camper van in the background, and my son’s wide grin—these are the priceless snapshots one cherishes for a lifetime.
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Lisbon / Portugal
(2003)
The credit card drama, the Lufthansa advantage, and the rescue by fax
Olá Portugal! Today, I’m taking you along on a spontaneous short trip to Lisbon—one that turned out completely differently than planned and ended up becoming one of my absolute coolest travel stories. I was traveling with a colleague. Expectations were high, but to be honest: that famous spark just didn’t fly at first. Lisbon and us—it wasn’t exactly love at first sight.
What do you do in a situation like that? Exactly—go on the offensive! We spontaneously decided to leave the city behind, rent a car, and explore the beautiful Portuguese coast. Straightforward, simple, logical. Or so we thought. That is, until we were standing at the car rental counter and fate struck—laughing loudly.
What do you do in a situation like that? Exactly—go on the offensive! We spontaneously decided to leave the city behind, rent a car, and explore the beautiful Portuguese coast. Straightforward, simple, logical. Or so we thought. That is, until we were standing at the car rental counter and fate struck—laughing loudly.
The Counter Shock: No Plastic Card, No Car
We were just about to sign the rental agreement when the inevitable question about a credit card came up. We looked at each other, rummaged through our pockets, and faced a total disaster: neither of us had a credit card with us! It’s unimaginable in today’s age of smartphones and Apple Pay, but back then, without that piece of gold plastic, you simply hit an insurmountable wall at the car rental counter. Not a single cent in cash could help you out.
We were on the verge of leaving in frustration when we played our ultimate trump card. You see, we were both working for Lufthansa at the time.
When the car rental employee heard that, a small spark of hope flickered to life. He said, "You know what? Try calling your home airport in Munich using our landline. If they send us an official fax confirming that you really work for Lufthansa, I’ll give you the car!"
We were just about to sign the rental agreement when the inevitable question about a credit card came up. We looked at each other, rummaged through our pockets, and faced a total disaster: neither of us had a credit card with us! It’s unimaginable in today’s age of smartphones and Apple Pay, but back then, without that piece of gold plastic, you simply hit an insurmountable wall at the car rental counter. Not a single cent in cash could help you out.
We were on the verge of leaving in frustration when we played our ultimate trump card. You see, we were both working for Lufthansa at the time.
When the car rental employee heard that, a small spark of hope flickered to life. He said, "You know what? Try calling your home airport in Munich using our landline. If they send us an official fax confirming that you really work for Lufthansa, I’ll give you the car!"
Mission Munich: The Secret Fax Conspiracy
Forget mobile phones or mobile internet—so there we were in Lisbon, hanging onto an old-fashioned receiver and dialing the number for Munich Airport. Our target: the Lufthansa station manager. After some back-and-forth, we actually got him on the line.
Now it was time to show some diplomatic finesse! We had to charm him into helping us out of a jam by acting as a guarantor via fax—without him asking too many awkward questions about why we were wandering around Portugal so cluelessly without a credit card. And what can I say? The Lufthansa spirit of solidarity worked like a charm! A few minutes later, the fax machine in Lisbon spat out the paper that saved the day. We had our car!
Forget mobile phones or mobile internet—so there we were in Lisbon, hanging onto an old-fashioned receiver and dialing the number for Munich Airport. Our target: the Lufthansa station manager. After some back-and-forth, we actually got him on the line.
Now it was time to show some diplomatic finesse! We had to charm him into helping us out of a jam by acting as a guarantor via fax—without him asking too many awkward questions about why we were wandering around Portugal so cluelessly without a credit card. And what can I say? The Lufthansa spirit of solidarity worked like a charm! A few minutes later, the fax machine in Lisbon spat out the paper that saved the day. We had our car!
The liquid bribe on the return flight
The coastal tour was saved and turned out absolutely fantastic, thanks to the rental car. But, of course, we were well aware: someone who pulls off such a huge favor for us shouldn't walk away empty-handed.
To nip any prying questions or post-trip lectures from the station manager in Munich in the bud, we brought out the heavy artillery for the return journey: a damn good, full-bodied Portuguese wine. When we landed back in Munich, the fine bottle was ceremoniously presented as a gift—part bribe, part token of thanks. The manager grinned, the wine was delicious, and we had a story in the bag that we’d still be laughing about decades later.
The coastal tour was saved and turned out absolutely fantastic, thanks to the rental car. But, of course, we were well aware: someone who pulls off such a huge favor for us shouldn't walk away empty-handed.
To nip any prying questions or post-trip lectures from the station manager in Munich in the bud, we brought out the heavy artillery for the return journey: a damn good, full-bodied Portuguese wine. When we landed back in Munich, the fine bottle was ceremoniously presented as a gift—part bribe, part token of thanks. The manager grinned, the wine was delicious, and we had a story in the bag that we’d still be laughing about decades later.
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Belgien
(2005)
Temse
Pit stop in Temse: Belgian idyll, the Scheldt, and no-strollers for the mini-backpacker.
Before reaching the beach at Calais in our camper van—ready to board the ferry to England the next morning—we made an incredibly cozy stopover in Belgium: in the small town of Temse (Tamise in French), not far from Antwerp.
Pit stop in Temse: Belgian idyll, the Scheldt, and no-strollers for the mini-backpacker.
Before reaching the beach at Calais in our camper van—ready to board the ferry to England the next morning—we made an incredibly cozy stopover in Belgium: in the small town of Temse (Tamise in French), not far from Antwerp.
It’s worth mentioning that I always undertook these big road trips entirely on my own with my son. And we both shared a clear common enemy: the stroller! My son was absolutely not a fan of sitting in it, and—honestly—I hated the bulky thing just as much. So, the stroller stayed home, and the mini-backpacker moved into a baby wrap for the duration of the trip instead. Snuggled right against Mom’s chest—that was our recipe for ultimate freedom.
It was the best way to explore the cities with my son. You have so much more freedom without a stroller!
Veurne
Last stop before the border: the Renaissance setting of Veurne.
After enjoying the tranquility along the Scheldt in Temse, our campervan continued through Flanders, almost reaching the French border. Here, a true architectural gem awaited us: the historic town of Veurne (known as Furnes in French).
Last stop before the border: the Renaissance setting of Veurne.
After enjoying the tranquility along the Scheldt in Temse, our campervan continued through Flanders, almost reaching the French border. Here, a true architectural gem awaited us: the historic town of Veurne (known as Furnes in French).
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Stepping into this place instantly transports you back centuries. The vast, cobblestoned market square (Grote Markt) is an absolute dream for analog photography. It is completely surrounded by magnificent Spanish Renaissance-style buildings—featuring ornate stepped gables, dark brickwork, and majestic towers such as the historic Town Hall and the Belfry.
After this final, wonderful cultural pit stop, it was time to hit the road! We climbed back into our camper, crossed the border into France, and tackled the last stretch of the journey. Next stop: the beach and the big ferries at Calais!
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