Ever stumbled upon the perfect café, sequestered deep in the quietest corner of a buzzing city, and just had to share the secret? Ever wanted to be part of that secret? Travelistas Lynn Lau and Abby Bender combine their journalism and travel experiences to bring readers Notes From A Café: Travel stories from the deep end, a refreshing cure to the usual stodgy travel resources. Notes From A Café revolves around the love of travel, with articles covering countries from Belgium to Norway to Malaysia, along with tips and resources to fellow travelers interested in the non-touristy side of exploring the world.
Celebrating the joie de vivre of traipsing the globe, Lynn and Abby feature their stories and secrets under headings such as "Voyage Vignettes" (focusing on the thick and thin of personal travel accounts), "Foreign Foibles" (cultural gaffes and taboos), "Travel Tips" (a grab-bag of information and suggestions for travelers), and "Roaming Reviews" (frank guides on true must-see's and definite stay-away-from's).
A random selection of our articles:
Keeping in theme with Abby’s article, one handy tool to make sure you know where you’re going is the ever-simple pen and paper.
Keep the slimmest pocket-sized notebook handy for when you’re at the Metro/RER station, trying to buy train tickets, or when you absolutely, positively need directions and the only person you can communicate with alternates between made-up sign language and wry laughter. If you know the bare basics of the language, but for some reason suffer a mental short-circuit or can’t find the precise word you need, remember, the language barrier needn’t be an obstacle. It can be a starting point.
» Read the rest of Oh, And You Can Doodle With Them During Dull Moments, Too ...
“You are here all alone?” the young man staffing the funicular ticket booth asked me.
When I nodded, he made a face that all Europeans know how to make from birth: sadly pursed lips, head tilted a smidge to the side, eyes slightly lidded and looking askance at me.
“It is sad to travel alone. It is best to have someone to share the experience with. And Heidelberg, alone …” He slid me my ticket and winked. “Next time you are here, come find me. I will take you out and show you the town.”
I glowed as I traipsed up the steps, reveling at how nice Germans were and how lovely the boys could be, and wasn’t it grand to be a fabulous young thing on a trip?
As I settled myself into the funicular caboose, my thoughts turned from meeting up with the nice young man (which I might have done, had I not been leaving the town that afternoon) to the subject of traveling alone. Before I’d left for my trip, friends had exclaimed: (1) “Won’t you be afraid to travel alone?” or (2) “Won’t you be awfully lonely?”
To which I always responded (1) no and (2) definitely no.
I’ve hardly ever felt lonely while traveling alone. I revel in the freedom of waking when I want, seeing the sights I want, getting lost and backtracking again and again whenever I want. To stand and gaze at a shop window for five minutes at a time, or flurry through the passageways of celebrated art museums and stopping at what I want to see, without having to acquiesce to group tastes.
No, the only times I’m lonely when traveling by myself are mealtimes.
Not so much during lunch – lunches are hasty meals by nature. I often find myself skipping lunches altogether while traveling. It’s easy to grab a sandwich or an ice cream if hunger bites too deeply, and I can see and accomplish so much more when I don’t have to stop for an hour or two in the afternoon.
Dinner, however, is a different ballgame. Evening meals are intrinsically social events, great family repasts where all gather around the table to celebrate after a long, hard day and savor the evening, gastronomically and communally.
Let’s face it: if you’re eating dinner alone, the societal expectations of camaraderie and companionship make you feel like a pariah.
» Read the rest of Eating For One: How to Dine Alone ...
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Shall I sing you a tale of great derring-do
When pickpockets three I did bravely subdue?
(Well, maybe “subdue” is a word too extreme,
But hear out the story; you’ll see what I mean!)
I was living abroad when, wholly by chance,
My brother’s glee club was on tour in France.
I packed up my things, met Father and Mum,
And drove to the north to have us some fun.
At Omaha Beach, where so many fell,
The glee club boys sang of faith and farewell.
Then onward through Caen and Sainte-Mère-Église
In weather so scorching, we prayed for a breeze.
And, then, off to Paris! La ville des lumières!
The Louvre, Eiffel Tower, and ladies so fair!
Since I knew the town, I worked with pride
Playing the role of translator and guide.
» Read the rest of Pickpockets, Beware! (or, My Subway Adventure) ...
When I sat down for breakfast on my first morning in Paris, Brigitte fanned a heaped collection of brochures and coupons on the dining table. “Do you know where you want to go?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,“ I said, and immediately launched into a whole stream of locations. Well, more of a gushing torrent than a stream, I should amend. I knew exactly where I wanted to visit and what activities I wanted to indulge in, complete with preferred order and ideal time, not to mention grouped by arrondissement.
(I would love to tell you that I’m far more casual now, but a few days ago Tonje took a look at my list of Belgian must-see’s and responded, “Good lord, woman. You do know we’re only going to be there for a week, right?”)
One place I knew I did not want to go was the Eiffel Tower. I know it’s the very symbol of the city—and it was rather charming to watch it buzz with flickering blue light from my bedroom window at night—but it was more than a little too touristy for me. Visiting a sight just for the sake of saying you have is fulfilling an obligation to others, I think, instead of to yourself.
Still, I wanted to get a panoramic view of Paris. One option was a hot-air balloon ride I had learned about.
“The hot-air balloon is tied to the ground the whole time,” Brigitte broke the news to me. “But if you want a 180-degree view of the city,” — she pulled out one of the brochures on the table, a twinkle in her eye, and laid the brochure beside my plate of pain au chocolat — “you should go to the Samaritaine department store.”
Located at the very heart of the city, I learned, right next door to the Louvre and facing the River Seine, La Samaritaine lets you do some old-fashioned shopping, but more importantly, lets you view Paris all you want from its rooftop. All for free.
» Read the rest of La Samaritaine ...
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Java Cat 3918 Monona Drive Madison WI 53716 (608) 223-5553 |
A girl worth her salt would brave the elements for a scoop of truly good ice-cream. For a taste of dreamily divine gelato, however, she would travel the globe. Gelato, far denser than regular ice-cream because it contains less air, can have either a dairy base (milk, cream) or a non-dairy base (soy milk, water). For this reason, it can even be enjoyed by the lactose-intolerant without losing any of its flavor. Hey, try finding soy ice-cream that dances on the tastebuds just as heavenly—it is still very much a hit-or-miss mission.
Abby, in covering Rue de Buci, has already let you in one of the best places to enjoy gelato to your heart’s content. One might not guess, however, that delicious gelato can be found not just in Europe, but even right in the American Midwest, of all places. More specifically, at Java Cat.
Photo from Java Cat
» Read the rest of Java Cat: Enjoying Gelato in the Midwest ...