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:
Earlier this month, Tonje and I invaded—er, visited—Brussels, the capital of Belgium, and the capital of Europe, for that matter. When my co-worker first heard about our plans, her initial reaction was a puzzled, “What’s in Belgium?”
“Chocolate,” her husband supplied. “Belgian chocolate.”
“Oooh.” She nodded in understanding. “That’s right.”
It isn’t a major tourist destination, for sure. While getting ready for our trip, I’d scanned the local bookstore’s travel section. There were only four or five guidebooks that named a Belgian city, and out of those, only three contained anything substantial. Most guidebooks on Belgium will list a combination of any three of its cities—Brussels, Bruges Ghent, Antwerp, Waterloo—complete with maps. The reason for this is that, well, frankly, the place isn’t that huge. You can cover a lot of ground on foot, and these cities aren’t more than an hour’s train ride away from each other.
Nor is the country as jam-packed with tourist sights as its other European neighbors, so you should definitely know ahead of time what you intend to do and see in Belgium. Otherwise, you might wind up like the baffled lady who stopped us at the train station, just as we were to catch the next ride to the airport, and asked the loaded question of, “What is there to do here?”
Whether you’re planning an excursion to Brussels yourself, or are intending only a short stop before continuing on your way to Paris or Amsterdam, here are seven things you should know about this capital of the European Union.
» Read the rest of Seven Things You Should Know About Brussels ...
Most people, when they go overseas, tally the fantastic things they have accomplished during their stay. Such as how many chateaux they have visited, how much fondue they’ve eaten, or how many tchochkies they’ve purchased for Aunt Bessie.
Me, I tally pickpockets. Specifically, how many pickpockets I’ve beaten up. Don’t let my pretty face fool you—to date, I’ve come in contact with five pickpockets and beaten up all of them.
Actually, I’ve only beaten up two pickpockets. Well, really, I’ve only “beaten up” one. And I didn’t really do the “beating” part, because my black-belted beauty-queen friend was the one who threw the punch. But when my dad was mobbed by a gang of three pickpockets on the Paris metro, I stepped on one’s foot and hit him with an umbrella. Which half-counts.
Pickpockets happen. They happen whether you’re in Paris, London, Madrid, and anyplace in between. And, while every traveler has been warned at least five times to “keep your passport close!” and “split up your money in case your purse gets snatched!”, a lot of us come from nice neighborhoods in a country where the public pickpocket population is pretty … petite.
Yes, it is smart to have a money belt, passport pack, and all those other lovely contraptions that you can staple and glue to your skin to keep your valuables as close as possible. And always be sure to have copies of your passport stored in separate places—and distribute your credit cards, travelers checks, and cash into different pockets or bags to “diversify” your wealth and lessen the risk of losing everything.
But have you noticed that the native citizens of these countries don’t wear money belts? How do they keep from getting robbed blind every five minutes?
» Read the rest of How to Not Get Your Pocket Picked (and what to do if it happens) ...
Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée Rue des Sables 20 1000 Bruxelles +32 (0)2 / 219.19.80 http://www.cbbd.be |
It’s always seemed to me that European comics have a more tangible “feel” to them, in comparison with American comics. Not that it’s any surprise—after all, here comics are called the Ninth Art, lauded and studied in its own right. In Brussels, comic shops abound with gorgeous graphics and visceral images, not as something for “nerds” but as something to be marveled at for its artistry.
Well, I have to admit I’m a little biased, myself. . . .
Nevertheless, it goes without saying that the Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée—Brussels’s very own Comic Strip Art Museum—was a definite must-see for Tonje and I when we invaded the city last week. Stepping in, we were greeted by a red-and-white rocket from Hergé’s Tintin: Destination Moon, while a five-foot-tall Asterix model beamed from inside a glass case.
» Read the rest of Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée ...
This week, we feature an article by guest writer Emily Ding, who traveled to Stromboli, Italy. Emily notes of Stromboli: “‘Bigger than my body,’ John Mayer sang. Indeed. It was an exhilarating feeling, like standing on top of the world. Originally written on June 12, 2006 and edited for clarity upon return.”
I’m currently lazing around on Stromboli island, which is one of the islands of the Aeolian group above the Sicilian mainland. My two travelmates (Jo + CH) and I, we’ve been trying to kill time the whole day, pretty unsuccessfully. We’ve been in Stromboli since yesterday and we’ve basically seen most of everything we needed to see, but because the cheapest option to Naples is a 10 pm ferry tonight (which will get us there in the morning) we have to spend a whole day here, doing just about nothing. It’s rather painstaking, to be honest. It’s such a small town that we’ve walked the same route at least three times, and seen the same people over and over, even gone to the same café twice.
I bet all of the residents are gossiping about “those three Japanese kids.” Though of course we’re not Japanese, but everyone thinks we are.
» Read the rest of Scaling Stromboli, by Emily Ding ...
just a question of getting in the B&B that was the issue.
It was my first trip to Paris. I’d learned the language, planned my itinerary, gotten first-hand recommendations on where to go and what to definitely avoid. I even had the directions to my bed & breakfast down pat. By the time I’d gotten off the bus at Place de la Nation and confidently making my way toward my hosts’ apartment, I was proud of myself for knowing what I was doing.
Then I found myself outside the apartment, and realized that of all things people kept telling me about Paris, nobody said a word about how to open a door.
It’s always the little things.
Oh, there was a handle, all right, but the door was locked and so wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t a keyhole in sight, besides which my hosts had assured me a key wouldn’t be required there. There was a series of white buttons outside, and I initially took it to mean the same thing as in American apartment buildings—that each button was a buzzer corresponding to each apartment. However, not one of them was labeled with a resident’s name, and I wasn’t going to start buzzing everybody in the place and earn my hosts some very annoyed neighbors.
Well, okay, I did press a couple.
» Read the rest of After This, I Knew Everything Else Would Be Smooooooth-Sailing ...