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Maastricht may have been one of the biggest surprises of our trip.

The city has a youthful, energetic feel thanks to the university, but it also manages to be charming, beautiful, and remarkably walkable. We spent two nights there and immediately understood why so many people speak so fondly of it. The streets are lined with cafes, historic buildings, and beautiful public spaces, yet the atmosphere feels relaxed and approachable rather than crowded or overwhelming.

Our hotel was one of the most memorable places we’ve ever stayed: the Kruisherenhotel. The property is a former church that has been transformed into a modern luxury hotel, and somehow the combination works perfectly. The soaring architecture of the church remains intact, while contemporary design elements have been incorporated throughout the space. It is one of those hotels that becomes part of the destination itself.

One of the highlights of our stay was a day trip across the border to Aachen, Germany, to visit Aachen Cathedral, the church built by Charlemagne more than 1,200 years ago. Walking into a building that has survived since the time of Charlemagne is a remarkable experience.

We quickly learned that seeing Charlemagne’s throne required a guided tour. The only tour available was in German. Did we speak German? Nope. 

But we joined the tour, understood virtually none of the guide’s explanation, and happily followed along anyway. The reward was seeing Charlemagne’s throne and the altar area where his remains are kept. Sometimes travel requires a willingness to be completely confused in pursuit of something extraordinary.

Before leaving, we made a last-minute dash through the cathedral treasury, which turned out to be one of the most fascinating parts of the visit. We saw objects directly associated with Charlemagne himself, including his hunting horn and hunting knife, as well as the famous reliquary bust containing his skull. It felt like standing face-to-face with history.

Back in Maastricht, we explored the underground cave system north of the city. The caves are fascinating in their own right, but what makes them especially remarkable is their role during World War II. Thousands of important works of art were hidden there for safekeeping, protected from bombing and Nazi theft. Walking through those tunnels, it was easy to imagine the enormous responsibility carried by the people who worked to preserve Europe’s cultural treasures during one of its darkest periods.

What we expected to be a pleasant stop between larger destinations became one of our favorite portions of the trip. Maastricht offers beautiful architecture, excellent food, easy access to fascinating history, and a relaxed atmosphere that makes you want to stay longer.

Two nights didn’t feel like enough.

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We drove into Bruges from Amsterdam, though a bit later than planned — not because anything went wrong, but because the weather was almost impossibly beautiful. Everyone in the Netherlands seemed determined to spend the day outside. Along the highway, the water was alive with windsurfers, kite surfers, and sailboats gliding through the sunshine. It made me wonder: where do all those sails and boards live during the long gray stretches? Do people just wait patiently for one glorious day like this and then suddenly emerge all at once?

At one point, traffic came to a complete stop for a drawbridge lifting to let a line of tall sailboats pass through. We got out of the car to watch. As we stood there admiring the boats, a voice crackled over the loudspeaker:

“Lady in the short trousers, please get back in your vehicle.”

Yeah, the lady in the short trousers was me.

By the time we arrived in Bruges, we were completely charmed already. We checked into our beautiful hotel, The Notary, parked the car in city parking, and settled into the kind of relaxation that feels almost cinematic after a long drive. The hotel overlooks its own quiet stretch of canal, with flowers everywhere and a swimming pond filled with fish and water plants. We sat in the garden with glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and let Bruges work its magic on us.

That evening brought a beautiful dinner followed by cognac in the hotel bar — one of those perfect little European moments where nobody seems rushed and the lighting somehow flatters everyone.

The next morning, determined to maximize our short stay, we launched straight into Bruges proper. First: a canal cruise, which absolutely lived up to the hype. Bruges is lovely from the streets, but from the water it feels almost unreal — medieval facades, low bridges, ivy-covered walls, and tiny hidden gardens tucked behind centuries-old buildings.

Then came the Belfry.

We climbed the narrow staircase all the way to the top, and despite the fact that I exercised constantly, my legs were trembling afterward. Apparently stair-climbing in a medieval bell tower uses muscles modern life forgot.

One of the highlights of the trip was the Basilica of the Holy Blood. The lower Romanesque church especially was incredible — dark, ancient, and almost fortress-like in its simplicity. Josephine lit a candle for her grandmother before we headed upstairs to see the relic itself.

When we arrived, the line was surprisingly short. Jamil complained a bit while we waited — only to discover on the way out that we had somehow timed it perfectly. The line had exploded behind us, stretching all the way down the stairs and into the courtyard. We still have no idea how we escaped the crowds so completely.

And then, just like that, our twenty hours in Bruges were over.

We grabbed shawarma for the road, climbed back into our Ford Kuga stuffed to the roof with luggage, and pointed ourselves toward Maastricht for the next leg of the adventure.

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One of the best parts of Amsterdam is that the food somehow manages to feel both effortless and deeply intentional. Nothing felt overly polished or performative. People just seem to care about quality — whether it’s coffee, oysters, fries, gelato, or a hot dog from a stand near the train station.

Our mornings usually started at Coffee District, which became our favorite coffee stop in the city. The coffee quality was genuinely outstanding — the kind of place where even a simple cappuccino tastes meticulously calibrated. Josephine loved the hot chocolate and somehow loved it even more once they poured it over ice. The line looked intimidating every morning, but it moved faster than most neighborhood Starbucks in the United States. I still do not understand what kind of witchcraft those baristas possess.

For lunch, we had sandwiches from Cora Amsterdam, which we loved considerably more than Josephine did. The pastrami sandwich was the standout for me — rich, peppery, and balanced without being heavy. The vegetable sandwiches were fresh and flavorful, though they needed a little more salt. Still, everything tasted high quality, healthy, and shockingly affordable by major-city standards.

Not every meal was elegant, though. On our big museum day, we somehow failed repeatedly at finding lunch. Everywhere was crowded, touristy, or unappealing, and by around 4 p.m. we were starving and cranky enough to stop overthinking things. We ended up at a hot dog stand near Amsterdam Centraal Station. Honestly – it was great. A simple hot dog with mustard and pickles can still be perfect if it’s fresh and busy. That is one culinary rule that seems to hold true internationally: high turnover usually means safety and quality.

And then there was the gelato.

We stopped at Miuz Gelato Artigianale, which completely justified the line outside. Josephine and Jamil were obsessed with the olive oil gelato, which somehow tasted simultaneously rich, grassy, and refreshing. Jamil also loved the basil flavor, which sounds strange until you try it and realize it works perfectly. I went with the chocolate sorbet, which was intensely dark and smooth without being overly sweet. It tasted more like actual chocolate than most chocolate ice creams do.

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Dinner was where Amsterdam really surprised us.

Our first standout dinner was at Visque. We only ended up there on a whim. We had reservations for an Indonesian rijsttafel dinner elsewhere, but we walked past Visque, saw the energy inside, turned around almost immediately, canceled our other reservation, and went in. Zero regrets.

The oysters and caviar were phenomenal. I had a steak tartare with pimentón that was smoky, sharp, and completely addictive. Josephine chose asparagus with sea bass, while Jamil ordered the tuna “Wellington.” Every single dish worked. It felt playful without becoming gimmicky — ambitious food that still knew how to taste good.

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Then there was Restaurant Rijsel, which may have been our favorite overall experience. Everything about Rijsel is perfect. The atmosphere feels gritty and earthy in the best way — almost like 1990s Tribeca or Houston’s Montrose scene back when creative people still took over old spaces because they cared more about quality than polish. The restaurant feels young, confident, and almost aggressively committed to doing things well.

Jamil started with an incredible lamb tongue dish. I had a sea bass tartare, and Josephine got a Gouda croquette that she demolished almost immediately. For entrées, Jamil and Josephine both ordered Rijsel’s famous rotisserie chicken, which absolutely deserves its reputation. I ordered white asparagus with ham, which I learned is essentially a Dutch seasonal institution. Every dish felt deeply comforting while still being precise and elegant. We skipped dessert only because we were too full to continue.

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Our final memorable dinner was at Auberge, a relaxed brasserie that feels distinctly French in a Marais sort of way — stylish without trying too hard.

We started with asparagus and hollandaise sauce. I usually worry hollandaise will feel overly rich, but this version was airy and fluffy instead of heavy. I ordered skate with fried capers, which Josephine had never tried before, making for an unexpectedly adventurous parenting moment. Josephine had the boeuf bourguignon, which honestly ruined most American versions for us. It was lean, deeply flavored, and comforting without the greasy heaviness that sometimes weighs down the dish in the United States. Jamil ordered Dutch clams with fries, and I can confidently say those fries may have been the best I’ve ever eaten.

Fries should be battered. That is simply the truth.

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Amsterdam may be famous for canals, museums, and bicycles, but we left feeling equally impressed by how consistently good the food culture was. Nothing screamed for attention. The city just quietly delivers quality over and over again.

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There may be no better way to understand Amsterdam than by bicycle.

We spent the day riding about 35 kilometers from the city into the Dutch countryside with We Bike Amsterdam, and it ended up being one of the highlights of the trip. The terrain was mostly flat, but the ride still felt like an adventure as we followed narrow bike paths, crossed bridges, and glided along the famous dikes that have literally shaped the Netherlands. Every few kilometers brought another story about how the Dutch engineered an entire civilization around water.

One of the most fascinating stops was a historic fishing village that once sat on open saltwater before the construction of the Afsluitdijk transformed much of the surrounding sea into freshwater. Our guide explained how the village changed once the water became brackish and fishing patterns shifted. It was one of those moments where geography, engineering, and history suddenly all clicked together.

We also learned that Amsterdam’s beautiful buildings are standing on surprisingly unstable ground. Much of the region sits on peat, which is soft, wet, and constantly shifting. To keep buildings upright, generations of Dutch builders drove enormous wooden beams deep into the earth to create foundations. In a way, entire forests disappeared beneath the city just to hold Amsterdam up.

That engineering mindset seems to define the Netherlands. Nothing about the landscape feels accidental. The dikes, canals, locks, and reclaimed land all reflect centuries of persistence against the sea. In some ways, the Dutch are already centuries ahead in the global warming conversation because they have been battling rising water, flooding, and land management since the country’s inception. While much of the modern world is only beginning to think seriously about resilience and water control, the Netherlands has been refining those systems for generations.

One thing that felt very strange to us as Americans was the near-total absence of bike helmets. People of all ages — business professionals, grandparents, teenagers, parents carrying multiple children — ride everywhere without them. At first it seemed reckless, but it quickly became clear that the reason is infrastructure and culture. Bikes genuinely have the right of way in many situations, drivers expect them, and the entire transportation system is designed around keeping cyclists safe. It still felt weird to us, though, especially weaving through Amsterdam traffic without the defensive mindset that comes naturally in the United States.

The ride itself was wonderfully relaxed. We stopped only briefly for a grilled cheese sandwich for Josephine and a few historical explanations along the route. Otherwise, we just kept pedaling through green fields, tiny villages, grazing sheep, and endless water views. The countryside felt calm and open in a way that contrasted perfectly with Amsterdam’s busy canals and museums.

Josephine handled the ride like a pro. Fortunately, she had already been preparing for Dutch cycling culture thanks to all the biking she’s done in Florida. Thirty-five kilometers is no joke for a nine-year-old, but she powered through it with only the expected end-of-day exhaustion.

What makes cycling in the Netherlands so special is not just that people ride bikes — it’s that the entire country is designed around them. Protected bike lanes aren’t a novelty. They’re simply infrastructure. Families ride together, older couples cruise through villages, commuters carry groceries on cargo bikes, and children pedal independently without anyone thinking twice about it.

By the end of the day, we were tired in the satisfying way that comes from spending hours outdoors seeing a place at human speed. You notice more on a bicycle. You hear more. You stop more easily. And in the Netherlands, you start to understand why the bike is not just transportation — it’s part of the culture itself.

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We arrived in Amsterdam at 9:30 AM yesterday and somehow immediately launched into a museum marathon. We arrived exhausted and underfed, but completely in love with this city.

Our first stop was the Rijksmuseum, where we learned an important travel lesson: buy tickets only through the official website. I accidentally bought ours through a very convincing “.org” site and paid almost double. Apparently, this is a thing here because many of the major museums sell out in advance. Consider yourselves warned.

The museum itself absolutely lived up to the hype. The Rijksmuseum is basically the crown jewel of Dutch art and history, filled with masterpieces from the Dutch Golden Age, including Rembrandt’s The Night Watch and Vermeer’s The Milkmaid. Josephine especially loved the Rembrandts. Honestly, standing in front of The Night Watch is one of those moments where you understand why certain paintings become world-famous. It’s enormous, dramatic, chaotic, and somehow still feels modern almost 400 years later. They’re even restoring it publicly right now through something called “Operation Night Watch,” so you can actually watch conservators working on it behind glass while you walk through the gallery.

We also visited the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam’s modern and contemporary art museum. It was definitely more abstract and experimental — the kind of place where some people are inspired and others stare at an installation thinking, “Wait, is this the art?” Josephine was not fully sold. I thought it was fascinating.

Lunch on day one was sandwiches from Cora. Josephine hated them. We would still recommend it.

Today we somehow squeezed in four more museums.

Our Lord in the Attic may have been the biggest surprise of the trip so far. From the outside it just looks like a narrow canal house, but hidden inside is an entire secret Catholic Church built into the attic during a time when Catholics weren’t allowed to worship publicly. It was way cooler than expected and one of those places that makes Amsterdam’s history feel incredibly alive.

The Maritime Museum was also fantastic, especially with kids. The replica Dutch East India Company ship alone is worth visiting — you can climb all over it and immediately understand how terrifying long-distance sea travel must have been centuries ago. The museum also had a ton of hands-on exhibits and activities for children.

Then we went to the science museum, NEMO, which was incredible. Easily one of the best science museums we’ve visited. We spent hours doing experiments, testing engineering concepts, and playing with all sorts of real-world investigations. It’s basically designed to let kids touch everything, which makes it way more fun than the average “look but don’t touch” museum experience.

And finally, the Van Gogh Museum. Incredible. Seeing the sunflower paintings in person was surreal. You never realize how textured and vibrant they are until you’re standing a few feet away from them. The museum does an amazing job walking you through Van Gogh’s life chronologically, so by the end it feels less like you visited an art museum and more like you spent a few hours inside someone’s mind.

Sadly, day two also featured another disappointing lunch — this time a hot dog from a stand outside the train station. Amsterdam may not be winning us over on quick meals.

But the weather has been perfect, the people have been unbelievably friendly, and the city somehow manages to feel historic, relaxed, and alive all at once. We absolutely love Amsterdam.

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I have two very different memories of getting sick in Europe.

The first was in 1999.

I was in Germany with my parents, and all of us developed sinus infections at the same time. I cannot remember ever feeling that miserable. We went from pharmacy to pharmacy, learning the hard way that European pharmacies don’t stock the same medications Americans rely on. There was no NyQuil. No magical cold-and-flu aisle. And although I’m fairly certain we needed antibiotics and real medical attention, we never managed to see a doctor.

It felt helpless.

Fast forward twenty-five years.

This time, I was the mom.

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The Travel Pivot

The trouble actually started before the sickness.

We boarded our flight in Houston without a single hiccup. Not late. Not rushed. Everything smooth. And yet, midair, we received notice that we would land in Frankfurt an hour late — just enough to miss our connection to Venice.

Lufthansa offered to reroute us through Vienna, landing in Venice close to midnight.

That sounded miserable.

We were dreaming of that first Italian dinner — candlelight, pasta, something celebratory. So, from 30,000 feet, I did what I do: I pivoted.

I found a flight to Milan and booked a driver to take us straight to Venice. It wasn’t cheap. It wasn’t convenient. But it got us there — and honestly, it made for a memorable start to the trip.

By the time we arrived at The Gritti Palace in Venice, we were exhausted but relieved.

And then Josephine said she was cold.

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UGH, It’s Not Jet Lag

Of course she was cold. It was freezing outside.

I ran her a warm bath.

She got out shivering.

Not dramatic shivering — uncontrollable, teeth-chattering, in-tears shivering.

Jamil and I told ourselves it was jet lag. Travel fatigue. A long day. We bundled her up and headed to dinner anyway, thinking if we could just get some pasta in her, she’d sleep like a dream.

We barely made it through appetizers.

She was throwing up in the bathroom before the entrees arrived.

We abandoned our plates and rushed back to the hotel.

Her fever was 103.
Her throat hurt.
This wasn’t jet lag.

This was strep.

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How Much Has Changed Since 1999

Here’s the good news: access to medical care abroad has changed dramatically in the last two decades.

Telemedicine is incredible.

Instead of wandering city streets searching for the equivalent of NyQuil, we opened our laptops.

We tried one service first — AirDoctor — and it was, frankly, not great. The physician wasn’t especially kind and didn’t seem to fully grasp what was going on.

But then we tried DoctorsinItaly. And that changed everything.

We were connected with Dr. Thor Ferreira da Cruz, who was calm, thorough, and reassuring. He assessed Josephine quickly and confirmed what we suspected. Antibiotics were arranged easily. The entire process — consultation included — cost less than 30 euros.

Less than 30 euros.

On Day Three, Jamil started showing symptoms too. Same diagnosis. Same efficient care.

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If You Ever Find Yourself in a Pickle

If you’re traveling in Europe and need a doctor quickly, I cannot recommend Dr. Ferreira da Cruz highly enough. He can assist patients in any European country via telemedicine. Just go to DoctorsinItaly.com and book an appointment. 

I don’t have to tell anyone that the food in France is phenomenal, but the quality and variety of ingredients make me wax poetic. I want to tell you all about each and every dish, but the details don’t really matter. What matters is how it affected Josephine and us.

In Houston, Josephine is quite adventurous, but there are very real limitations on what we can and do purchase. I can search all day for razor clams, but I’ll be lucky to find them – and if I do, they’ll be in a can. I can serve her exotic-ish cheeses from our best cheese shops, but I won’t get my hands on a real Comté. And in France, they just take the seasonality and variety for granted. Fascinated, we dove in headfirst, and we  tried it all (okay, Josephine still said no to mushrooms and jam of any kind). So, I’m just going to share photos of what we ate, and if you have questions about where to eat, I can make a zillion suggestions.

Not every unforgettable travel memory comes from a cathedral, a museum, or a centuries-old ruin.

One of the biggest highlights of our time in Provence came from something completely unplanned and wonderfully modern: a day spent climbing, jumping, swinging, and flying through the trees at Bollène Aventure.

Lost in the Woods (Or So It Felt)

Getting there was part of the adventure.

As we drove farther and farther off the main road, the landscape changed quickly—dense trees, winding turns, no buildings in sight. At one point, I genuinely wondered if we were headed to the wrong place entirely. There were no cafés, no crowds, no obvious signs of civilization. Just forest.

It had that slightly ominous, are-we-sure-about-this feeling—like the opening scene of a movie where you’re not quite convinced everything will turn out fine.

And then suddenly, tucked deep in the woods, we arrived. Harnesses. Platforms. Laughter. Relief. What felt like “Deliverance” two minutes earlier turned out to be one of the best days of the entire trip.

A Different Kind of Provence

After days immersed in Roman bridges and ancient stones, Bollène Aventure was the perfect contrast. Set entirely in the forest near the town of Bollène in the Vaucluse region, the park feels wild, physical, and refreshingly uncurated.

The experience centers on parkour-style movement, high ropes courses, climbing elements, and zip lines, all built high among the trees. The moment we arrived, Josephine’s eyes lit up. Helmets went on. Harnesses clicked. Any lingering jet lag or museum fatigue disappeared instantly.

Climbing, Jumping, Flying

The ropes course was substantial—suspended bridges, swinging logs, ladders, and platforms high above the forest floor. It required balance, focus, and a little courage. Watching Josephine move through it with determination (and visible pride) was one of those moments that stays with you long after the trip ends.

And then there was the zip line.

Strapped in, she stepped off without hesitation and flew across the clearing, laughing the entire way. No phone. No posing. Just pure exhilaration.

Fun for the Sake of Fun

What made Bollène Aventure so special wasn’t just the activity—it was the feeling. Being deep in the woods. Using our bodies. Breathing hard. Laughing loudly. Not learning anything in the traditional sense, and not needing to. And although she’s an amazing sport about all my touring and shopping, Josephine really needs this kind of activity, too – sweaty, chaotic, joyful. Honestly, we all do.

As anyone who knows me is well aware, I am obsessed with Greek and Roman history. And Provence (or Transalpine Gaul, as it was known in ancient times) is a perfect place to see an amalgam of Roman history and modern life. On our recent trip to Provence, we made it a point to take Josephine to the region’s most extraordinary Roman archaeological sites—not as a formal history lesson, but as an invitation to experience the past with her feet, her eyes, and her imagination.

She climbed, ran, touched ancient stone, and asked questions. And in doing so, she absorbed something far more lasting than dates or names: the understanding that we are simply walking where people have walked for thousands of years.

Pont Julien

Near Bonnieux, Vaucluse

The Pont Julien may be modest compared to other Roman monuments, but it was the site Josephine fell for first. Located just outside the village of Bonnieux, this beautifully preserved Roman bridge dates to around 3 BCE and once carried the Via Domitia—Rome’s vital road linking Italy to Spain.

What makes Pont Julien so magical for children is its accessibility. There are no ropes, no velvet barriers, no hushed tones. Kids can walk straight across stones laid more than 2,000 years ago, still bearing the grooves of ancient cart traffic. And until just recently, cars used it as a major thoroughfare. That’s how sturdy Roman architecture was. How will modern highways measure up in the eyes of history?

Pont du Gard

Vers-Pont-du-Gard, Occitanie

If Pont Julien felt intimate, the Pont du Gard was pure awe.

Rising nearly 160 feet above the Gardon River, this three-tiered Roman aqueduct once carried fresh water over 30 miles to the city of Nîmes. Built in the 1st century CE, it remains one of the most astonishing feats of Roman engineering in existence.

It was one of the coolest ruins we’ve ever visited. We didn’t really allot enough time to experience the park in full. As usual, we got there mid-afternoon. I think next time I’ll pack a picnic, so we can spend the day and wade in the water.

Absolutely — here’s a short, elegant entry you can drop into either post (or use as a standalone sidebar). It keeps the tone consistent and doesn’t overwhelm the narrative.

Orange: A Later Roman Theater and a Triumphal Arch

One of the most striking reminders of Rome’s presence in Provence is found in Orange, home to two extraordinary monuments that feel almost impossibly intact.

The Roman Theatre of Orange is among the best-preserved Roman theaters in the world. Its massive stage wall—still standing at nearly 120 feet high—creates an immediate sense of scale and permanence. Standing inside, it’s easy to imagine performances unfolding exactly as they did nearly 2,000 years ago. Even today, the space feels grand, dramatic, and alive.

Just outside the historic center (a bit of a hike but worth the walk) stands the Triumphal Arch of Orange, built in the early 1st century CE to honor Roman veterans and military victories. Covered in intricate reliefs of armor, weapons, and battles, it quietly marks Orange as an important Roman crossroads—less flashy than some sites, but still super cool and a lot easier to get up close and see than other similar monuments, like the Arch of Constantine in Rome. This one is just out in the open to see and touch, and we all were quite impressed.

Arles

Roman Theater, Arena, and Forum Remains

In Arles, Roman ruins aren’t tucked away—they are woven directly into daily life. Cafés sit beside columns. Children play near amphitheaters. Laundry lines hang within sight of ancient walls.

The Roman Arena, still used today for events, was a highlight for Josephine. She climbed the steps, peered into passageways, and imagined crowds roaring from seats that have held spectators for nearly 2,000 years. Nearby, the Roman Theatre offered a quieter moment—standing on a stage once used for performances long before microphones or electricity.

Arles beautifully reinforces the idea that history doesn’t end—it layers.

Glanum

Saint-Rémy-de-Provence

Set in a serene valley at the edge of the Alpilles, Glanum feels like a secret waiting to be discovered. This former Roman town includes temples, baths, fountains, and residential streets—all open, walkable, and wonderfully evocative.

What makes Glanum especially meaningful is its sacred spring, which was revered long before the Romans arrived. The spring was believed to have healing properties and drew people to this spot centuries earlier, making Glanum a place of worship and gathering well before it became a Roman settlement.

Here, Josephine wandered freely, hopping between stones and asking who lived in which buildings. The ruins are low enough for kids to feel immersed rather than overwhelmed, and the natural surroundings make it easy to imagine daily life unfolding centuries ago. She also got to watch some weird interpretive theatre in the round.

Glanum was perhaps the most powerful reminder that history is not abstract—it happened in places just like this, among families not so different from our own.

Why We Take Josephine to Places Like This

Traveling with children to historical sites isn’t about perfect behavior or memorizing facts. It’s about presence.

Sometimes, in our self-absorbed microcosms, we lose sight of the big picture. I want Josephine to be acutely aware that the world didn’t start with us. We are part of a very long human story, and maybe she can create something that people will look at in awe several millennia from now.

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