My rental car unknowingly moves through Bruges, or so I hope that is where I am. I am lost. The small streets of Bruges weave around countless canals. To say that I am confused would be an understatement. The city looks a lot like Venice, except in Belgium form with waffles, fries, chocolate, and beer on every corner. If Bruges looks dreamlike from a car window, I can only imagine how it feels without the separation of glass. I have to find my hotel.

Bruges boasts a 2,000 year old history when Gallic-Romans settled here. The history of Bruges is without question centered on being a trading city and port authority. During the Middle Ages, the city was the most important trade center of north-west Europe. The name alone means landing stage in Old Norse. This afternoon, Bruges is my landing stage.

After asking around where my hotel is, I at last check in and lug 50 pounds of luggage up a narrow flight of stairs. It is time to explore Bruges. Heading out, Bruges does look more like a dream city. The streets are covered perfectly in cobblestone, orderly and clean. Swans elegantly glide through the canals as tourists join boat tours of the water passageways. I would make fun of these people with their cameras and wide eyes, but I can’t. They look so happy, so in awe of what they are experiencing. Frankly I look just like them despite that fact that I was born with abnormally large eyes that always look wide eyed.

I stereotypically wave back at those tourists on those small boats. Why is that? Why is there always that person on the boat waving at people on the street? I guess they are so pleased they are moving through water and you aren’t that they might as well be friendly about it.

I reach the Burg Square, the heart of administrative Bruges. The Gothic town hall is the true gem of this square, being one of the first monumental town halls in the Low Countries. I continue onto the largest of Bruges’ town squares, the Market. Expansive and idyllic, the Market Square is wrapped up in commotion today.

Workers set up a concert stage for some musical act that will perform tonight. What a setting for a concert. The belfry town looks down on the large space with probably the best seat in the house. Medieval houses line up as though they too are waiting patiently for the show to commence.

I continue wandering, not knowing where or how to get back to my hotel. This could be a bit of a problem as the sun sets. I decide to calm my worry about being lost and rather embrace the feeling with a can of Hoegaarden and some French fries. In my mind, few things in life can’t be solved with beer and French fries. Uncomfortably full, I think I have the motivation now to head back in for the night. I wander some more down side streets. I cannot find a single street in Bruges that is out of place or not worthy of a picture.

Upon returning home from Bruges, I sat around the dinner table with family discussing what is the most beautiful city in the world. Most said Paris, but I shouted out every Italian city I love. I’m biased there of course, but then I thought of Bruges. While that question cannot be determined with the saying of one city, Bruges is definitely high on my list of visually one of the most beautiful cities  I have ever seen or have been hopelessly and beautifully lost in for an afternoon.

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When you travel with someone crazily intent on knocking off all the countries in Europe, you can bet even San Marino is on their list. My traveling companion today is that said person, almost unhealthy focused upon having his feet stand in every country in Europe.

Most people have never even heard of the Republic of San Marino. It is easy to see why. San Marino is the third smallest state in the world. You could miss the country and not even know it, being only 61 square miles in area, only one-third the size of Washington D.C. Landlocked by Italy, San Marino’s foreign policies align with the country, reasoning that most must just think it is another hilltop Italian town.

However, historically speaking, tourists should be making their way to San Marino. San Marino is the oldest republic in the world. Supposedly Christian stonemason Marinus founded the republic in 301 A.D. Situated in the Apennines, today San Marino is independent, democratic and neutral.

My country crazed friend and I drive into the minuscule, forgotten republic. He almost squeals in excitement that the road signs have just changed color, an indicator that we have entered a new country. As we park the rental car, San Marino looks down on me from above. Like all things in life, you must work to reach San Marino. I begin to use those leg muscles in lunge-form to reach what has to be a panoramic and impressive view.

Sloped cobblestone streets lead up to an open piazza. Palazzo Pubblico appears almost fake, more like a toy castle found in a Legos set. The Palazzo looks at me in Neo-Gothic style. I only gaze at the Lego Palazzo for a moment, as the view to the left overwhelms and impresses. San Marino watches the rolling green hills of Italy from above. I capture the delight of my friend gazing out on this view, that look of contentment, that “Yes!”, another country to check off the list.

We wander around San Marino, noticing an array of gun shops. Strange and out of place, everything else here is still picturesque. Continuing to wind up through the narrow streets of San Marino, there are no cars or loud noises. Just people strolling around, admiring all those guns, or rather the atmosphere.

Near what seems like the top of San Marino, several towers still stand guard. The Guaita Tower, Cesta Tower, and Montale Fortress bear medieval birth dates. The views and atmosphere alone must have needed protection from those barbarians trying take all of this away.

It is dinnertime in San Marino. The sun is just reaching my favorite point of the day, not quite sunset and not quite afternoon. We find a restaurant on top of the world it would seem and of course what else could I order but pizza. That is after all what I would order in paradise. I throw back a European Coke, taking that “ham it up photo” in pure delight that I have found the top of the world.  Thank you country crazed friend for not allowing me to overlook San Marino.

If you would like to contribute to the “Where are you going” segment, please email whereareyougoing at suzyguese dot com.

On the western outskirts of Graz, Austria, Schloss Eggenberg can be heard squawking for attention. Peacocks roam the palace gardens and grounds screeching in loud high-pitched tones. I squawk back to see what these birds will do. I guess I must sound a lot like a peacock as a few of Schloss Eggenberg’s birds respond to my ear covering song.

On a partly cloudy day in Austria, I lay down on one of Eggenberg’s many benches scattered throughout the gardens. The grass is unbelievably green, making the sky even bluer. A few sounds of thunder ominously grumble, hinting at rain heading towards the castle. The universe and elements are present, just as Prince Hans Ulrich von Eggenberg intended when he commissioned the castle’s construction in 1625.

Eggenberg sat as chief minister to Emperor Ferdinand II. The Schloss was designed to express the powerful rule of the Eggenberg family. However, Eggenberg wanted the castle to showcase a comprehensive architectural allegory. Along with architect Pietro de Pomis, Prince Hans Ulrich laid out the plans like a mathematical and allegorical scheme. The idea was to create a cosmic harmony during an era of chaos.

The harmony is ever-present as I gaze up at the baroque structure. Creamy whites and oranges stand out amongst the greenery that surrounds. Upon entering the structure, a courtyard opens up to the sky, forever hinting at who rules this castle. The four corners of Schloss Eggenberg face in the four cardinal directions of the sun, with the sides of the palace corresponding to the time of day. The floors carry visitors in hierarchical order with everyday life on the ground floor leading up to the ideal world on the highest floors of the castle.

It is the setting of Schloss Eggenberg that brings me harmony on this late afternoon. The gardens look more like a landscape painting jumping off the canvas. A Rose Mound winds up to a small gazebo type covering with a romantic bench. While not a part of the original design, in 1835 Jerome Herberstein constructed an artificial hill lined with roses. Today 300 historic roses, 400 conifers, 2,500 shrubs and 4,000 bulbs make up this artificial hill, offering a view at the same height as those ideal world floors of the castle.

I am reminded on the Rose Mound that seemingly the ideal world can be created in the form of rose bushes on a hill. A few of my friends, those shrieking peacocks, block the path back down from the mound. It is almost as though they do not want me to come down from such great heights. Frankly I would not mind staying on top of the world surrounded by roses, but those thunder grumbles are now producing rain and I must come down.

I looked today with rose-colored glasses at Schloss Eggenberg. While peaceful and ideal there are still those reminders the glasses must come off. One of which, those squawking peacocks remind me to leave. I am on their turf.

If you would like to contribute to the “Where are you going” segment, please email whereareyougoing at suzyguese dot com.

Tonight, my feet have brought me to the streets of Cagliari on Sardinia’s southern coast. Cagliari, a port city founded by the Phoenicians in the 7th century B.C., remains the island’s capital, filled with a mixture of modern and ancient architectures. The city lies in the middle of the Golfo degli Angeli, in other words, the Gulf of the Angels. The heavenly aspect to Cagliari at first glance may seem hard to find with run-down buildings and moderately sketchy accommodations, but the angelic quality to Cagliari seems to be perched a flight of stairs above the town in the Castello neighborhood.

As I wander the streets of Cagliari in search of pizza, I use my nose to sniff out a hole in the wall pizzeria. Prices on this menu for an entire pizza run around 3 Euros. I am beginning to like Sardinia. With a Pizza Diavola and Sardinian beer in hand, I begin searching for that spot to enjoy dinner. I reach the old town, filled with restaurants and shops still alive at 10PM. I notice a set of twin staircases meeting up to a telling archway. This is where I will go.

I climb to the top of these steps only to find an expansive space with a view of the Cagliari port and coastline. A few overly affectionate Italian couples sit on benches in the park area, gushing over one another. I guess I will just cuddle up with my pizza and beer on a nearby bench.

Little do I know, but I have just stumbled upon the Castello neighborhood of Cagliari, a quarter dating back to the Middle Ages. The area sits on the upper side of the city, inside a casing of high ruined walls. These medieval protectors stand tonight to watch over me as I explore Castello. An open park of planted palm trees, benches and worn buildings surround as the golden lights of Cagliari serve as my lantern to see what I am eating. My stomach begins to fill. It is time to move.

I head deeper into this mystic quarter, meandering down silent and secluded side streets until I reach a truly impressive site. The Cathedral of Cagliari rests here in Piazza Palazzo. Dedicated to Saint Mary, the Cathedral was designed by the Pisans in the 13th century. The Pisan influence can clearly be seen, mirroring the churches found in Lucca and Pisa. The structure radiates soft white light, contrasted by the jet-black night sky.

On the steps of the Cathedral, my knees bend and I sit, ready to rest my aching feet. I pause for a few moments, trying to grasp how different and surreal this neighborhood seems, in particular, at night. I have found the Castello quarter by chance. Well, maybe it was meant to be.

If you would like to contribute to the “Where are you going” segment, please email whereareyougoing at suzyguese dot com.

What many of us forget about travel is our feet. Without the ability to move, travel would fail to exist. These places around the world we view most likely at a standstill. We are usually standing tall or with bad posture, viewing a place on foot. As a part of this travel site for 2010, posts of the week deemed “Where Are You Going?”, a place viewed on foot while traveling, will be featured, predictably every week. The goal of this segment is to expand the idea of travel, that no matter where your stinky, clean, pedicure, no pedicure, aching feet take you, places will always exist that have yet to be experienced by all. If you have a place that fits the above description, email whereareyougoing at suzyguese dot com to have your destination featured on this site.

At this very moment, I do not doubt there is at least one person viewing the town of Urbino in Italy from this vantage point. Urbino rests in Italy’s Marche region, seldom traversed by the guidebook crowd. The town faced numerous occupations throughout its history. The Etruscans, Celts, Gauls and the Romans all called the hilltop town home. Urbino fits the standard requirements for a perfect Italian village: old age, picturesque stone streets, and a church. The town even served as a renowned artist’s birthplace. Raphael was born in Urbino in 1483. With a famed university, a handful of museums and churches, Urbino has left nothing out for travelers.

Urbino does not have a train station taking you into the small village. Travelers can only go by car or bus, which could be why most people do not visit. The cities of Venice and Florence are much easier to reach, but Urbino brings a unique solace from this viewpoint just opposite the town.

In the dead of winter, the expansive green hill is windy and cold. However, you would never shiver once the unbelievable view of Urbino stares back at you. The snowcapped mountains behind the town yield a more perfect postcard image. The air is heavy. The view seems medieval with overgrown shrubbery surrounding the area. Looks over the shoulder may naturally come for fear some sort of medieval barbarians may be charging behind to take Urbino. It is easy to see why so many have conquered, lived, studied and visited Urbino. The view alone inspires, making Urbino my pick of where you should go this week.