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’m an overpacker. I freely admit it. It’s been my experience that, whatever I decide not to bring, I will invariably need. If I don’t pack my umbrella because the weather report said it would be crystal-clear-sunny, it’ll pour three out of the five days I’m there. If none of the restaurants specified fancy dress in the Fodor’s listing and I leave my skirt at home, I’ll be invited to the opera. It’s just the way of the world.
I don’t mind lugging around extra items if I know I’ll use them. It’s another thing entirely when I’m lugging around all these items and find out later that I’ve forgotten half of the really important things that one needs on a trip, like shampoo and a toothbrush and such.
This usually happens in some level or another whenever I go on a trip, but on my latest trip to Germany, I took this ludicrousness to a completely new level.
In justification, I was attending a wedding, which required makeup, hair-care detritus, fancy dress and heels, and presents. The space on my carry-on was reserved solely for a pair of crystal candlesticks and the first two books of Stephen King’s The Dark Tower. A curling iron and hair dryer take up a lot of space, don’tcha know.
When my connecting flight got delayed, ensuing a flight switch and a day’s layover, and my checked bag became lost in Luggage Hell, a blinding illumination came to me:
I was the quintessential Don’t Bee.
» Read the rest of Don’t Be a Don’t Bee Like Me ...
So you’ve got your toiletries all packed and ready to be checked in, but what do you do when you need moisturizer on the plane itself?
TSA guidelines require that all carry-on gels and liquids fit in a quart-sized zip-top baggie. I confess, I used to fill this baggie to the brim, resulting in one airport security agent fondling it quite closely. What can I say? One needs hand-sanitizer, lip balm, eye-drops, and skin moisturizer, among other things, if one doesn’t want to end up dehydrated from that recycled air on planes. And let’s faced it, though they may be travel-sized, those containers still contain bulk.
But I’ve found a way to slim down that plastic baggie! For my upcoming international flight, I gathered the sample packs of skin-care products I had accummulated in the past. People, you know what I mean. These are sample packs you find at cosmetic counters, at your local community pharmacy, even at places like Whole Foods on occasion. You invariably grab one or two, and either use it immediately or toss it into a drawer.
Well, if you’ve saved a bunch of these, now is your time to use ‘em. Simply dropped them into the baggie. They use up far less volume than a travel-sized container, meaning you can use the extra space for other liquid/gel products you’d like to bring. And the samples can be easily discarded once they’ve done their job. Each sample usually contains two or three uses’ worth, so even tossing three into your baggie will be more than enough for your in-flight needs.
An opportunity to travel light yet sensibly? I’ll take it!
I could tell you about our getting lost on our first day in Seattle—well, not so much lost as misdirected, because all we did was take the wrong bus and wind up on the other side of town—or about how Pike Place Market was a riot of shops and senses, in a way reminding me of the low-cost shopping complexes back in Malaysia. But you know what the real highlight of the whole trip all was? When I held an absolutely fetching white-chested caique on my fingers and blew on her tongue.
Blowing on Katie’s tongue
Photo by Seow Yin |
Seow Yin and I had emerged from Pike Place, and decided to stroll over to a small park nearby for a breather. The bright sun and hot temperature defied April’s alleged “spring” qualities, and drew people out into the open as if by osmosis. Or like a well-sprung trap, depending on your frame of mind. So, scattered about the park were students, drummers, and casual tourists amidst tubby pigeons looking for a snack.
Seow Yin had finished taking obligatory photos when I noticed there were other kinds of birds in the vicinity, and not of the pigeon variety either.
» Read the rest of Katie the Caique ...
If I could keep but one memory of the Abbey of Pontlevoy, it would be this:
» Read the rest of Elysium Fields ...
Oh, the humanity.
When I lived in France and sat down to luxurious dinners of foie gras, fresh herbed salad, aged cheeses, and to-die-for desserts, sometimes I would sit back, close my eyes, and think … I could really go for some chicken tenders.
No matter how cultured I try to act or what affectations I put on (or how much I really, really like chevre or a chilled Vouvray), I’m a corn-fed Midwestern girl at heart. And, even though gastronomical adventures through another country are exciting, sometimes all you want is a taste of home.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, my plight was all-too-easily assuaged. Throughout my travels, I noticed an assortment of “American” restaurants sewn into the tapestry of the European landscape. McDonalds. Starbucks. Pizza Hut. I think I even saw a Chili’s in Switzerland.
Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but tho’ the spirit is willing, the flesh is all too weak. I succumbed to my most base desires from time to time … and would pick up a quarter-pounder with cheese from ol’ Mickey D’s.
Guess what, folks? Eating at these “American restaurants” reminds you why you didn’t miss the food in the first place.
And never did I realize this so sharply than I did in my recent trip to Germany, where, against all better judgment, I took a detour from the beer gardens, wiener schnitzel, and bratwurst to visit the Heidelberg Hard Rock Café.
» Read the rest of Just Say No to Heidelberg’s Hard Rock Café ...