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:
“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 ...
There are multiple comic book conventions that take place throughout the year, from MoCCA in the East Coast to APE in the West, but any true-blue comic book fan knows that when it comes to the con, you’re talking about unmistakably one: Comic-Con. Whether going by the name SDCC (San Diego Comic Con), CCI (Comic Con International), or just plain Comic-Con, this is the place to be.
Having grown from just being about comic books to featuring kid cartoons, hit TV series, and blockbuster movie previews, the con receives attendees from all over the world and reaches across demographics. And how. According to its website, last year saw a turn-out over 104,000 people crowd into the San Diego Convention Center over the course of four days: artists, actors, directors, exhibitors, and regulars alike. Comics will always be at Comic-Con’s very base and foundation, but really, if all you need is pure entertainment, head on down to the convention center every July for Comic-Con weekend.
Mind you, hotels fill up fast around these parts, and rooms don’t come cheap. When you consider that over 100,000 people attend the event, and that the organizers only hold at most a few hundred area hotel rooms at a discounted rate (with free shuttles to the con), you’re in for a fight if you attempt to look for a room close by a month before the con. Book months ahead of time where possible, and split the cost with friends. Whatever money you end up saving, spend it at the con—hey, you know it’s inevitable.
Don’t be afraid of looking for accommodations outside the main downtown area for a good rate—the trolley will be your good friend. Just make sure the place you choose is at least decent and reputable; safety comes first. You can find out more about the hotel in question through reviews from TripAdvisor and Expedia.
Speaking of transportation, where possible, use the city’s public transit system or walk. San Diego being a popular destination, most locations are usually within good reach of one another. If you happen to stay at a participating hotel, or within walking distance of one, you can get a free shuttle ride to the con just by wearing your Comic-Con badge. Avoid the stress of driving—even if parking fees don’t wind up gnawing insistently at your ankles, the traffic getting to the con center can be horrendous. Saturday is the peak day for such. I remember taking a shuttle regularly to the con last year — on Thursday, it was an easy 15-minute ride. On Saturday, it turned into a 45-minute wait due to the sheer volume of vehicles on the street.
This Thursday through Sunday is when hoardes of fans, artists, costumed folk, and the general public invade San Diego for this year’s ritual event. Whether this is their first time at Comic-Con or their seventh year straight, most have a rough checklist of what they want to see or get. A fresh Flight anthology, perhaps, or sitting in on a Stargate Q&A panel, or catching a sneak preview of an upcoming movie (viva le Stardust!).
If you’re going to Comic-Con, don’t forget this other checklist as well.
» Read the rest of It's Cool To Be Geek: Surviving Comic-Con ...
I stepped off the train into a Christmas card. Or as my fellow passengers on the train to Siegen would say, “eine Weihnachtskarte,” or that’s what they would have said, were they not glaring into the feather-light snowflakes tumbling out of the dusk and frosting the quay.
Before I had boarded the train for my Christmas vacation (Weihnachtsferien) in Germany, Tobi had informed me that while there would be snow in Siegenland, it always fell steadily, never too quickly, and always in an amount that was manageable. How very German, I thought, for in my mind, Germans and Germany were the epitome of the engineering philosophy, marvels in regimentation, beer, and leiderhosen.
And, also, Christmas. After all, most of the beloved aspects of an American Christmas – Christmas trees, Saint Nick, and the Christmas Pickle (well, beloved in my family, at least) – originated in Germany. When Tobi had recommended that I spend my Christmas abroad with his family, I agreed immediately. Seeing as my bloodline is almost half German, I thought it only fitting.
From Paris to Köln on the TGV, and then from Köln to Siegen, I imagined the welcome that would await me once I arrived in the land of my ancestors: Tobi waving merrily as the train pulled in to a station frosted in a picture-perfect dusting of snow while a brass band played Stille Nacht in the background.
The snow was definitely there to greet me, but not Tobi. I clutched my duffel bag and tried to look coolly Parisian while all around me rose, not the sound of Franz Gruber’s famous melody, but the buzz of the rich, buttercream-thick, absolutely incomprehensible German language. Fortunately, Tobi appeared almost immediately, his father in tow.
“It has snowed about a foot,” Tobi said, bundling me into the VW. “All the highways were blocked. It is a crisis.”
» Read the rest of Weihnachten nach Siegen ...
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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Boom Chicago Leidseplein 12 1017 PT Amsterdam The Netherlands Tickets: +31 20 423 0101 |
As Michelle, Molly, and I were relaxing over a Guinness at an Irish pub with our Mike’s Bike Tour group), our guide, Egg, pointed to a glowing sign across the square.
“See that?” he said, gesturing to a sign that read Leidseplein Theater above an orange and red swooping blob. “That’s Boom Chicago. It’s an improv comedy troupe from America that’s been here for about ten years. They perform every night, and if you get a chance, you should go. They’re really great.”
As we discovered, “great” is an extremely tame term to describe this gem of a theatre.
Photo from www.boomchicago.nl
» Read the rest of Amsterdam Lesson #3: Boom Chicago ...