Feeling Luxembourgish

General Patton, Goldblum’s jazz, and wandering through the Gibraltar of the North

There’s something about losing footage of a trip that teaches you how to savor every imperfect, fleeting moment. My GoPro decided to have a meltdown somewhere between Esch-sur-Alzette and Luxembourg City, and honestly? It felt like a betrayal. The tiny SD card flatlined, taking with it priceless clips of soaring church bells, a crowd of unapologetic Jeff Goldblum fans, and the meandering corridors of the Casemates du Bock. But memories—those stubborn things—cling tighter when technology fails you.

Here’s how Luxembourg burned itself into my brain, SD card be damned.

Wandering Through Luxembourg City

Luxembourg City is the kind of place that feels like it’s whispering its secrets as you walk—old stones underfoot, their stories seeping into your step. With free public transportation to ferry you through its layers, the city becomes a collision of past and present, a tiny cosmopolis where Gothic spires shadow contemporary cafés. We found ourselves starting at the Place d’Armes, the square brimming with life, French chatter blending with the harsher edge of Luxembourgish. It’s a soundscape that feels both familiar and elusive, a linguistic dance where German precision meets French flair.

From there, we wandered toward the Grand Ducal Palace, an architectural confection that feels less like a seat of power and more like a fairytale waiting for a camera. Around every corner, the city unfolded like a novel left open on a windowsill. The Adolphe Bridge soared above the Pétrusse Valley, its arches timeless, yet tethering the city’s halves together as if to remind it that strength lies in connection.

Down in the Grund—a quiet labyrinth carved into the limestone cliffs—you can walk centuries back in time. Silence speaks loudly here, the air heavy with history, echoing the Casemates du Bock above. It’s a city within a city, where light filters softly through the gaps, a kind of whispered twilight. And there, winding past its ancient walls and lush greenery, you begin to feel Luxembourg’s heart beating in its duality—serene yet vibrant, old yet restless.

What struck me most, though, was how Luxembourg’s identity feels carved from multiplicity. The passing conversations around us switch effortlessly between French, German, and Luxembourgish. The wine, particularly the crisp Elbling, mirrors the region itself—refined yet grounded, unapologetically unique. Luxembourg isn’t a place that demands attention, but rather one that earns it. It’s a kind of city where the beauty isn’t splashy but understated, stretched taut between stone walls, Michelin-starred meals, and quirk-filled corners. It’s a city that is certainly built for wanderers—the ones who know that the best souvenirs are the stories you bring home.

The Grave of a General

*The gravesite of General George S. Patton*

You can’t visit Luxembourg without walking through its history—or rather, its battlefield. After exploring the old town of Luxembourg City, we drove back to the airport to rent a car the second day in order to visit the Luxembourg American Cemetery. Crisp white gravestones stood in impossible symmetry, framing a silence so heavy it felt alive. At the center of it all lies General George S. Patton Jr., defiant even in death. His grave sits ahead of the others, commanding the scene like a chessboard king.

Standing there, looking at his marker prior to Memorial Day, I couldn’t help but admire the boldness of the guy. Patton wasn’t someone you’d describe as gentle. He was fire and fury, a strategist who saw war as both hell and a stage. Paying respects at his grave felt humbling—not because of his military triumphs alone, but because it reminded me that giants stumble, too.

The cemetery feels both intimate and overwhelming, a paradox Luxembourg seems to specialize in. Each stone felt like a story, written and finished too soon. I could almost hear Patton’s ghost barking orders, only to break the moment with some off-color joke about civilians taking selfies at a cemetery.

As an Iraq War Veteran myself, visiting this site felt like a pilgrimage to honor those who came before me. It was a reminder that the weight of history is carried not just by the famous generals and politicians, but also by the everyday soldiers who fought and died for their country.

The site of Patton's grave also serves as a reminder that war has consequences beyond just those involved in the fighting. It's a stark reminder to always strive for peace and diplomacy first, rather than resorting to violence and conflict.

Visiting this cemetery also gave me perspective on the sacrifices made by previous generations in service to their country. It reminded me to never take our freedom and democracy for granted, as they were hard-earned through the blood, sweat, and tears.

Amidst the rise of oligarchy and authoritarianism in the United States, visiting General Patton almost felt like a séance, a plea for guidance and inspiration to stay vigilant in protecting the principles of our democracy at the precipice of WWIII. As I stood at the gravesite, I couldn't help but think about how much more work there is to be done in order to protect and defend these core values. In our ever-changing world, it's important to constantly reassess and challenge ourselves to do better.

As we walked away from the cemetery, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for all those who have served before me. Their bravery and sacrifices have paved the way for future generations to live in a free and democratic society. It also made me reflect on my own role as a US citizen abroad and a war Veteran, and how I can actively contribute to preserving and strengthening our democracy.

General Patton's gravesite was not just an ordinary tourist stop, but a profound reminder of the values that we should continue to uphold as individuals and as a nation. It serves as a testament to the enduring legacy of those who have fought for the ideals and values now under attack in 2025, such as freedom of speech and equal rights for all.

Jeff Goldblum Takes Esch-sur-Alzette

A Jeff Goldblum concert, you ask? Yes. Live jazz from the guy who made chaos theory sexy in Jurassic Park. Esch-sur-Alzette, Luxembourg’s industrial second city, is where it all went down. The town has that charming mix of grit and surprise, like an artist who still bothers with a day job.

Esch-sur-Alzette lies tucked into the southern corner of Luxembourg right at the French border, a place where its industrial roots blend seamlessly with an unexpected artistic flair. Driving south from the polished elegance of Luxembourg City, the landscape changes; the pristine streets and glassy modernity gradually give way to rolling hills and the quiet charm of a town a little rougher around the edges. It’s not a long drive, but it feels like crossing into another world, one where the air carries whispers of iron works and distant laughter. And while the detour might seem out of place on a European itinerary, we knew from the beginning—it was Jeff Goldblum who had lured us here. The concert was our north star, a beacon pulling us into Esch-sur-Alzette’s soulful mix of shadow and light.

*Earth Girls Are Easy (1988) solidified my “type” without question*

My obsession with Jeff Goldblum began the moment I first watched him in Earth Girls Are Easy. His quirky charisma, effortless charm, and uncanny ability to turn even the most eccentric characters into compelling figures left me utterly captivated. Let's also be honest here, the man aged like fine wine. From that moment, I was hooked, devouring every film and appearance he graced, whether it was his iconic role in The Fly, Vibes, Independence Day, The Big Chill, Jurassic Park, or his quick-witted interviews and jazz performances in recent years. His unique blend of intelligence, humor, and unpredictability created a magnetism that I couldn’t resist.

Alex and I often joke about our celebrity hall pass list, and how mine has a problematic age gap.

*My celebrity crush (Jeff Goldblum) vs. Who I married (Alex in his early 20s)*

"He's so much older than you! You’re going to cash in your hall pass on a retiree?!" Alex would laugh at my Goldblum fangirling.

"His wife is my age, there's still a chance!" I'd retort with a wink.

But all jokes aside, I admire Jeff Goldblum for more than just his good looks and charm. He's also an incredible actor, musician, and overall entertainer. From his early days in theater to his current roles in blockbuster films, he has always brought a unique energy and charisma to the screen.

Upon arriving at Rockhal in Esch-sur-Alzette, Luxembourg, we were greeted with the familiar sound of jazz music. As a huge fan of jazz, I was thrilled to learn years ago that Jeff Goldblum not only acts but also leads his own jazz band, The Mildred Snitzer Orchestra. Watching him play piano and interact with the audience between songs only added to my admiration for his talent and passion.

Goldblum took the stage like he owned the place, oozing charisma in his usual offbeat manner. Between piano interludes, he’d riff on the absurdities of life and playing cinema/music trivia with the crowd, his wit as gleaming as his black-rimmed glasses. Sure, the music was great—smooth, soulful, like a martini in June—but what really got me was the man’s presence. He embodied something I wanted to take home with me, even more than the expensive Luxembourg gifts in my carry-on bag. Here’s a guy who knows he’s eccentric and unapologetically leans into it. Who else could casually schmooze with the crowd in between melodic piano pieces without breaking a sweat?

But beyond his artistic abilities, what truly struck me about Jeff Goldblum was his genuine kindness towards his fans. After the concert, he took time to take photos and sign autographs even though his security team was hounding him to wrap it up. Despite being exhausted from performing for hours, he still had a big smile on his face and made sure each of us felt appreciated. It was evident that he truly values and enjoys connecting with the audience in a way that doesn’t come off as superficial or glib.

This experience made me realize the power of genuine kindness and how it can leave a lasting impression on those around us. Jeff Goldblum's presence not only made my night, but also inspired me to be more intentional not only in my own creative projects and reminded me that kindness costs nothing, and can change someone's day or life in an instant for the better.

By the time the encore rolled around, even the most skeptical among us were hollering for more. Forget artisanal souvenirs; I left Esch-sur-Alzette drunk on riffs and existential banter.

However, before we left Esch-sur-Alzette, we stumbled upon a taco truck on the grounds of the University of Luxembourg across from Rockhal. It was a surprise to find such delicious and authentic tacos in this small European country, but it just goes to show that you can never judge a book by its cover. While eating al pastor, a concert in the converted factory was blaring above us amidst pyrotechnics and kaleidoscopic lighting. Listening to what sounded like industrial metal meets Middle Eastern chill lounge while outside a taco truck at the French-Luxembourg border made me pause and appreciate the unexpected quirks of traveling.

*University of Luxembourg: A university campus that goes hard.*

The Gibraltar of the North

In between visiting General Patton and swooning over Jurassic Zaddy, we really enjoyed meandering through Luxembourg City’s old quarter, often dubbed “the Gibraltar of the North,” is a labyrinth of stone fortresses, secret tunnels, and views that pull you out of yourself. Above it all runs the Adolphe Bridge, giving you a postcard-worthy view of the valley and its scatterings of medieval dreamscape.

The Casemates du Bock are the city’s pièce de résistance. Imagine descending spiral staircases carved into the very rock, each step whispering stories of sieges and survival. My GoPro’s betrayal hit hard here. This was footage worth losing sleep over—steep alleys that gave way to breathtaking terraces, where Luxembourg’s patchwork of history unfolded. Roman ruins sat snugly alongside Baroque facades, like a gathering of ancient pen pals. It’s the kind of place that makes you painfully aware of your own smallness, without rendering you insignificant.

For all its medieval grandeur, Luxembourg City isn’t stiff. It’s the kind of place where locals sip peach schnapps in shadowy cafés while visitors gape at fortress walls. The air smells faintly of rain-soaked stone and bakery sugar, an intoxicating mix that makes you linger longer than you should.

We stopped for coffee (because coffee is mandatory, much like gravity), and it struck me then how much Luxembourg defies easy categorization. It’s a capital city that feels like a village. It’s elegant but unpretentious, historic yet utterly alive.

A Love Letter to Imperfection

Maybe it was the adrenaline from too much espresso, or maybe it was the devastating beauty of the place, but Luxembourg forced me to slow down in ways I hadn’t expected. Losing all that GoPro footage felt like a gut punch at first, but as the trip unfolded, I found myself caring less about preserving the perfect snapshot and more about the imperfect memories. The moments framed by nothing but my own eyes - and a few smartphone captures, thankfully.

There’s an unspoken poetry in impermanence, in letting some experiences live only in muscle memory. Luxembourg exists in those half-captured flashes—a laugh shared in Esch-sur-Alzette, the chill of stone steps under my palm, the ridiculous thrill of hearing Jeff Goldblum scat-sing his way through the tunes of the Mildred Snitzer Orchestra.

Some places you visit. Others, like Luxembourg, stay with you because they refuse to be pinned down. It’s a country you feel more than you understand, and maybe that’s the point. Not every story demands a fancy camera or excessive tech; sometimes, etching it into your soul is enough.

Wandering Through Luxembourg City

The Grave of a General

Jeff Goldblum Takes Esch-sur-Alzette

The Gibraltar of the North

A Love Letter to Imperfection

Waltzing Through Vienna