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:
There’s no doubt about it: I’m not a girl who can function on a mere couple of hours’ worth of shut-eye. I need my beauty sleep. This includes when I’m traveling. Heck, especially when I’m traveling. When you’re zipping in and out of time-zones, the last thing you want to do is put up with a sleepless flight for 19 hours straight. (Tip: When traveling on flights, it helps to rearrange your sleep patterns from the start so as to reduce jet-lag.)
But if the person sitting next to you has her reading light on — determined to finish that Stephen King novel in her hands — or if that passenger at the far end of your row thinks it’s just peachy to have the plane window shades up when everyone else is trying to sleep, what can you do?
» Read the rest of Packing Essentials #3: Shutting Out The World ...
“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 ...
This week, we feature an article by guest writer Sabrina Gaylor, who traveled to Iceland this past summer. Here she shares the mesmerizing sights of her visit.
Lupine by Akureyri |
As amazing as Iceland is, it’s just one of those countries that gets overlooked or bypassed for more traditional vacation spots. I had the good luck of getting a chance to tour the country this summer, which I jumped at because the global warming crisis means that Iceland may not be the same in the future. My tour guide told the group as we passed Vatnajökull, the majestic largest glacier in Europe, that it was receding at a steady rate and soon would be gone.
Even if Iceland is just the white-outlined dot on the map next to Greenland, it turned out to be a much more diverse country than I’d thought. Reykjavik itself was very hip and urban, but close enough to the water and to national parks that it was possible to get away. The rest of the country was filled with bleak, endless, rocky plains and fields of moss-covered lava, volcanoes, eerily blue lakes, small villages nestled in between the mountains, and hillsides covered in waterfalls and lambs. At some points, we drove over unbridged rivers.
But there are perils of traveling through very rural areas.
» Read the rest of A Whirring Tour of Iceland, by Sabrina Gaylor ...
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 ...
The window of my room, out of which I often hung various dripping items of clothing. |
Once I decided to live abroad, I set out to do the research. The Bell-curve emotional roller coasters that you’ll ride during your stay. The myriad of cultural and gastronomical differences. Culture shock – and the hush-hush unspoken-of reverse-culture-shock upon re-entry. I read the books. I talked to those who had been there. I took notes and trained, and, when it was time to go, I was ready for everything and anything.
Except laundry.
After the first week, and one day awaking and finding no clean socks in my drawer, I girded my loins for the inevitable task of doing laundry (something I am not good at even in my home country).
And, as it turns out, when doing laundry in a foreign country, make certain you first have a Ph.D. In physics.
» Read the rest of Laundry Lessons ...