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:
Flight comparison sites have certainly helped travel! |
Major travel comparison sites, such as Expedia and Orbitz, have made it much easier for us common folk to become world-savvy travelers. No longer are we dependent on travel agents to compare flight ticket prices between multiple airlines—we can do it ourselves with two taps of a mouse! In fact, the last time I used a travel agent was seven years ago, in order to map out a route to Molde. If I were to make that same trip today, there’s no doubt I could pull it off without a third party, just by spending a litle more time in front the computer screen.
Yes, the Internet has made it vastly convenient for us to get our own flight tickets. But did you know that there are actually certain days of the month that are the best times to book those tickets?
» Read the rest of Mark Your Calendar: The Best Times to Buy Flight Tickets ...
Tomorrow I will be hopping onto a plane for Belgium, where I shall meet up with a good friend and indulge in as much chocolate and castles as possible. Considering I’ll be heading out of the country in 24 hours, you might understand my trepidation when I confess that I haven’t finished packing yet.
Granted, given my penchant for bringing only carry-on luggage, how much packing could I possibly do? It’s not as if I, say, have the option of stuffing a partridge and a pear tree into my wheelie. Then again, having a limit on luggage space leaves no room for error. That, ladies and gents, is the sticking point.
No matter what you do or don’t bring, however, or how much time you have to pack, there are a number of things that can help keep your head on straight before your trip. I know they do mine. In this first of the series, we see how being finicky can actually be a good thing.
» Read the rest of Travel Checklist #1: Keeping It Together ...
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 ...
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 ...
A year ago, I ran through some basic methods of surviving Comic-Con. If you’re heading down to San Diego for Comic-Con this July, Tom Spurgeon’s super-comprehensive list of things to do, places to see, and what to do about money is a definite must-read. The tips are wise, the links are handy, and the sense of humor in his list is wonderfully apropros:
“It’s a gathering of tribes. Strange, nerdy tribes.” (from “Five Things to Tell People On the Airplane”
Knowing that somewhere on the floor is a company that’s lost an intern over the weekend. Just lost them somewhere. (from “Six Small Joys to be Had Late in the Weekend”)
Don’t be shy about asking people who are dressed up in costumes to pose for pictures; the attention is frequently what they’re there for. Plus you may get the honor of addressing a grown man as “Lord Vader.” (from “Four Random Tips On Going To The Show”)