Day 20: The Kindness of Romanians

Tuesday was our travel day, but we didn’t leave until almost 5:00, so we had some time to squeeze a little more juice out of our time in Luxembourg. We slept in, then went to McDonald’s for breakfast (again, five euros instead of twenty—don’t judge) then headed to the Place de Constitution to meet up with the tour bus.

As with Rome, we had purchased a hop-on, hop-off tour bus ticket. There was slightly less to explore in Luxembourg City than in Rome, but the bus was still valuable. Our plan was to take the full tour (about 55 minutes), then on the second lap stop off at the Duke’s Palace and finish our sightseeing.

We learned on the tour bus ride that there really are two parts of Luxembourg City. The “old city,” where we were, was filled with the narrow streets and history of a European nation sandwiched between Belguim, Germany, and France. The “new city,” was home to Luxembourg’s burgeoning banking and financial industry.

While they took pains to communicate that Luxembourg was not a “haven,” tax and trade laws certainly make it advantageous for banks and financial institutions to do business in the Grand Duchy. In the last 50 years or so, over 200 banks have made their home in Luxembourg. The “new city” very much had the feel of the new and upcoming parts of any American city, with large office buildings being erected as far as the eye can see. One of the signature pieces of art in this area was a life-like statue of a banker, eight feet tall. The symbolism of this choice of subject, I would suggest, was not accidental. It’s not hard to see why Luxembourg has the second-highest GDP per capita in the world.

We finished our first tour bus lap and settled in for the second. Unfortunately, we discovered that while the Grand Duke’s castle was listed as a stop on the map, the bus didn’t actually stop there. Neither one of us felt like we really needed to see the bus tour a second time, so we decided to get off at the shopping mall (yes, the shopping mall, singular) to have lunch.

The mall itself was pretty impressive, the size of a full-fledged mall with the offerings of a Regency Court or similar high-end boutique mall. There was no Luxembourg equivalent of Old Navy, let’s just put it that way. We stopped at Quick Burger, which appeared to be the local fast food stop, to get lunch. We were treated with fountain soda with free refills and as much ice as we wanted—nirvana!

We got back on the bus and stopped at the central train station, which was actually closer to our hotel then where we started the tour. We looked inside the station—very nice, but very small, maybe a third of the size of what is now the Durham Western Heritage Museum in Omaha—then headed back to the hotel to check out. Our bags were waiting, and we boarded our taxi to the airport.

On the way, we struck up a conversation with Niklas, our taxi driver. He was Romanian, having been in Luxembourg for six years. He liked living there, although he did advise us that the weather we enjoyed was atypical—it usually was much colder and rainy. I joked with Mary Beth that her Luxemborgish grandmother was watching over us again, between the weather and arriving on the Grand Duke’s birthday celebration. Little did I know how prescient that comment would be.

As we drove to the airport, Mary Beth mentioned that we had tried to visit the American Memorial but were unable to do so. Niklas would have none of that, as the Memorial was very close to the airport. So instead of going straight to the airport, he took us to the Memorial. He said he hadn’t been there yet himself, so he got out with us as we went in and took a look around the grounds.

It was impressive, with maps of the Allied action in the area including the Battle of the Bulge, and a large monument to the fallen. But, of course, the true power of the ground was the cemetery, with thousands of simple white crosses marking the graves of the fallen American soldiers in the liberation of Europe from the Nazis. There are no words to describe that feeling of reverence and sadness, seeing those rows and rows of white crosses on a green hill under a beautiful blue Luxembourg sky, knowing what each cross means to the family of the soldier interred thereunder.

And the fact that our visit was made possible by a kind, thoughtful Romanian, made the visit all the sweeter.

We left the memorial and headed for the airport, getting ourselves checked in, buying a few last-minute souvenirs (because of course we did) and heading for Stockholm. We had a brief (40-minute) layover in Copenhagen, but after the crowd-sourced consensus from our “stay” in Amsterdam, I thought better of even asking the question about whether we can “count” Copenhagen as a place we had visited. Mary Beth did stop me from getting cash out of an ATM/Bancomat in Copenhagen for the taxi, reminding me that we were still in Denmark, not in Sweden, and I would be getting the wrong currency. I will confess, I never expected the phrase “oh yeah, we’re in Denmark” to come out of my mouth.

We arrived in Stockholm and collected our luggage. I got some cash for the taxi ride to the hotel, we found a cab, and we took the half-hour ride into downtown Stockholm. Now, the current exchange rate was about 6.72 kronars to a dollar, meaning that it was going to be really challenging to figure out  exactly how much something would cost. We got to the hotel, the Crystal Plaza (although I will be calling it Crystal Palace by accident, I’m sure) and checked it.

Everything the Park Inn was, the Crystal Palace Plaza is not. This place is very old, which can be seen as cool or challenging, depending on your perspective. The elevator had a door that opened outward, and an open gap where you went into the car. In other words, the wall just went whizzing by as the car was taken up the shaft. There was a warning not to put your bag near the ledge, in case it got caught and crushed you.

So, yeah, very charming, but not exactly hip and modern like the Park Inn.

We found our way to our room, and entered. And there’s really no other way to describe it—we’re staying in your grandmother’s attic. The room is small, maybe 15x30 (although in fairness, I’m not good with estimating dimensions). The outside wall is sloped in like, well, an attic. The slope is more pronounced in the bathroom, but it is definitely present in the main room as well. The light fixtures are circa Thomas Edison, except for the elaborate (wait for it) crystal lightpiece on the ceiling. So that’s where the hotel gets its name!

We somehow found space to put our luggage down, and went out to eat. We were hungry and tired, and surprisingly cold, as the temperature had dropped to the high fifties. We went into a place, asked if the kitchen was open (it was after 10:30 in the evening, even though it was just starting to get dark), and sat down when they said yes.

Turned out it was a pan-Asian restaurant, although we didn’t realize that until we got our menu. The food was very good (although more expensive than either of us realized when we ordered, of course). After dinner, we crossed the street to a 7-Eleven (because ‘Merica) to get a soda. As we looked down the street, we saw that a T.G.I.Friday’s was an option for dinner as well.

No wonder people don’t like Americans, we commented.

We walked back to the hotel and shut it down for the evening. Tomorrow will be our last day of vacation, with us returning home on Thursday. It’s entirely possible we might not leave the attic, given how wiped out we both are.