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:
Perhaps it’s because I spent the past two months breathing, sleeping, and dreaming the brilliantly satirical, hysterical, Tony-award winning musical Urinetown. Or perhaps it’s because I drink enough coffee daily to drown a horse. Whatever the reason, when I sat down to write this week’s update, my thoughts immediately turned to the topic of restrooms. Specifically, European restrooms. Even more specifically, pay toilets.
Oh, yes, you’ve heard of them. It’s hard not to. They’re a worldwide rage, an everyone’s-doing-it phenomenon, like Coach purses or skinny jeans tucked into boots (only not quite as glamorous). They’re the you’ll-never-believe-it groans spewed from just-returned-from-abroad American travelers. They’re the don’t-merit-their-own-bullet-point in your handy-dandy travel guide that quickly morphs into a now-I’m-stuck-with-a-distended-bladder-and-no-spare-change of many a traveler’s trip.
Not only are they ubiquitous, they’re discombobulating. What traveler hasn’t been momentarily intimidated before the little vest-wearing toilet maven, seated primly behind her little plate of change? Who glares at you while you dig through your pockets to find the correct fee? And then hands you a fistful of toilet paper after you’ve handed over your cash?
It seems so very foreign to charge for something as natural as using the restroom. Then again, you pay to eat, which is yet another natural function. Some would argue that, in principle, it’s the same mentality. Which is a logic I don’t agree with, even though water costs a truckload more in Europe than it does in the States. Whatever the logic, the fact remains: while in Europe, you will more than likely have to pay to pee.
» Read the rest of It’s a Privilege to Pee ...
No matter what you do or don’t bring, or how much time you have to pack, there are a number of things that can help keep your head on straight before a trip. In part two of the series, we take a look at another way to organize and ease the way. Slick like butter, baby.
All In The Books
Sometimes you have the good fortune of being able to rely on one great guidebook that covers anything and everything about the city you’re going to visit. Let’s Go: Paris is a terrific example of this—it contains concise profiles on each arrondissement, social tips, restaurant highlights, and even manages to fit a bit of Parisian history within its conveniently-sized pages.
If you’re venturing to a lesser-known area, however, chances are you’ll have to vary and diversify your choices—selecting certain pages from four guidebooks, picking out maps from the shelves, printing out sections from websites, even scribbling down random recommendations from friends. But you don’t want to be carrying that pile over, or be forced to rifle through them during your journey. In such a case, how does one keep all that together?
The key is to keep them together, preferably in an order that you know you’ll refer to them by. If you’ve borrowed the guidebooks from your local library, photocopy the relevant parts to keep. If you’ve already purchased multiple guidebooks, but not any one of those contains all the info you’ll need, then grab a pair of scissors and—brace yourself—begin cutting.
Relax. It’s only paper.
» Read the rest of Travel Checklist #2: It's All In The Books ...
One Sunday, as we were rumbling down the road in the red Peugeot on our way back home from the Amboise open-air market, Jennifer turned around and asked: “Hey … do you guys want to stop and see the Chanteloup Pagoda?”
I knew most of the hundreds of châteaux of the Loire Valley, but I had never heard of a French pagoda. Visions suddenly filled my head of dragon-emblazoned silk banners streaming from Gothic turrets, and manicured topiaries flanked by delicate, blooming cherry trees, and I knew I had to go see it.
As it turns out, the “Pagode de Chanteloup,” or the Chanteloup Pagoda, was built upon the remains of the château de Chanteloup, which belonged to the Duc de Choiseul, minster to Louis XV. Said Duke eventually offended the king in some way, shape, or form, as was wont to happen in those days, and Dukey found himself exiled to Chanteloup from 1770 to 1774. But his friends remained loyal to him, and in 1775, he directed his architect, Le Camus, to build the pagoda in honor of them.
(I’m assuming that the king had died, which made it possible for the Duke to build the pagoda and not get his head chopped off, but my guidebook falls short at this point.)
We pulled up to the deserted parking lot, parked the Peugeot, and tumbled out of the car, ready to take a quick trip to the Far East. But, horror of horrors, we discovered that the gate surrounding the park was chained shut … and the pagoda was closed for the season.
» Read the rest of Breaking and Entering ...
If you’re visiting Vancouver and the sheer sense of city life starts to wear you down after a while, flee up north for a soothing retreat. That is to say, enjoy a good deal of repose — and green — at the Capilano Suspension Bridge.
It’s not something you can indulge in every day, certainly — admission rates are at least CAD$25, depending on the season — but it’s definitely a must-see, and you should certainly enjoy it at least once while you’re in the area (and if you live within Greater Vancouver, well, you really have no excuse not to go a few more times).
» Read the rest of A Little More Sway: Vancouver's Capilano Suspension Bridge ...
| Le Port du Salut 163 bis, rue Saint-Jacques 75005 Paris Telephone: 01 46 33 63 21 |
If, after enjoying the looming pillars and ceiling of the Pantheon, you’re in the mood for scrumptious sustenance, you’re in luck. Barely a hop and a skip away from the Pantheon is Le Port du Salut, a restaurant serving gourmet French cuisine at an affordable price.
I have to give major props to Abby for telling me about Le Port du salut. For around €17, you get a three-course menu, including choices in appetizer, main dish, and dessert — not to mention a refuge from the hubbub of the world outside. I savored the quiet as I sank into my seat, grateful for the waitress’s stealth as she went about the place. There was nary a clink of plates or a raised voice within the restaurant; in fact, it was as if everybody else had the same goal of seeking respite as well, and had found it here. The old-fashioned decor leaves the tables so close to each other that one can eavesdrop on one’s neighbors, but even the two men next to me merely murmured as they discussed business over their very long and leisurely lunch break.
And the food? Satisfying and certainly more than I was able to finish. By the time I left, I was refreshed and all ready for a new round with this fair city, though a bit sorry to have to leave my sanctuary. Le Port du Salut definitely gets a thumb’s up!
Directions, from the Pantheon: Walk away from the Place du Pantheon, up rue Soufflot. Turn left at rue Saint-Jacques. The restaurant will be on your left.