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:
“I don’t have to do anything, do I?” Tonje wrote. We were going to Brussels for a week, and one couldn’t miss the note of trepidation in her e-mail.
“Nope,” I replied, inserting a little wink, “I’ll take care of it.” The consequent relief on her end was unmistakable.
Traveling to a new destination is exciting and all, but the thought of having to actually plan what to do and when is enough to dissuade most people from forming an itinerary. “We’re just there to have fun,” they protest with an airy wave of the hand. “We don’t want to have schedules.“
True, it doesn’t do to have constricting deadlines — you don’t want to feel you’re on an organized tour bus, after all. However, having even a skeleton-frame outline will save you headache on your trip, be that headache a small twinge (endless back-and-forths on “so what do you want to do?” “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”) or a whopper (winding up on the other side of the city after the last train has left).
You don’t have to make a huge “divide and conquer” battle plan. One quick, easy way that I use to rough out my itinerary is to divide a small piece of paper into two columns: Must See on the left and Good to See on the right. The left column is for places and things that get you excited and you simply can’t miss out on (ergo the title, “Must See”). The right column is for things that sound interesting or places that strike your fancy, but not so high on the priority list.
When you’re reading guidebooks or websites on your intended destination, and happen to come across a description of a sight or location that sparks your interest, note it down in either of the two columns. Obviously, you leave out anything you don’t care about or ranks too low on your priority list.
How do you tell the difference between a Must See and a Good to See? A Must See gets you excited and telling people, “I can’t miss out on that!” A Good to See sets off the mental thought, “That’ll be good to see,” i.e., “Wouldn’t mind missing it if we don’t have time, but still, would be lovely to go.”
I’d mentioned before to list these on a small piece of paper. The reason is so that you can be quite discerning in your choices, and won’t be tempted to overburden your travel with excessive things-to-do.
Once you have your lists done, you can start grouping them by location. That way, it can be a simple walk to get from place to place, and your trips by bus, subway, or the metro are vastly reduced. The main focus of each group should be the Must See’s, so don’t have three Good to See’s to one Must See in any group. When I went to Paris, I arranged my places of interest according to arrondissement, and it was a great deal more relaxing and organized knowing that even if one of those places turned out not to be interesting at all, I can just stroll over to the next item on my list and the afternoon wouldn’t be a total bust.
Happy planning!
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 ...
It had been a blast visiting my friend Tonje, but now it looked like my trip was going to round off in a sticky situation.
My return flight was through Vigra airport. However, Tonje and I were miles away in Volda, and though Norway might be a good ol’ pocket-sized country, the keyword here is “pocket-sized.” It doesn’t have airports in just any which city. The main method of transportation is by bus. We’d have to take a bus from Volda to Moa, and then transfer onto a second bus that would shuttle me the rest of the way to Vigra. Collectively, a five-or-six-hour journey.
Hey, we decided, no problem. All the more fun and countryside to see before parting.
The problem was, when Tonje checked the bus schedule, there weren’t any buses between Volda and Moa on the day I was supposed to leave.
Mental note: Never choose Sunday as a departure day again.
» Read the rest of A Detour to Ålesund ...
The first time I went to New York City, I hated it.
It was a bitterly cold January. Jessica and I were staying with her cousins in Philadelphia, and after the hoo-ha of New Year’s had blown over, we decided a day-trip to New York was in order. I actually looked forward to it. Let’s put it this way: when you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, you’re either trying to recover from poor arch support or you’re brimming with anticipation. My arch support was fine, so there you go.
Jessica particularly wanted to see the Statute of Liberty. I really had no inclination to see the Lady, to tell the truth. Okay, she carried a torch. And there was that toga. I still get a kick out of that bit in Ghostbusters II, when the team enlists Lady Liberty’s help to defeat Viggo and his river of slime:
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Wonder what?
“What she’s got underneath that toga.”
Classic Venkman.
But other than that, it did not pique my interest at all. There were streets to walk! Shop windows to goggle at! Don’t make me go to a statue, for crying out loud!
We went to the statue. “For the view,” Jessica insisted cheerfully.
» Read the rest of Behind the Burnish of the Apple ...
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 ...