12 posts tagged “travel”
I just bought a round trip, non-stop flight from Paris to New York for 334€, or less than $498. That is an unbelievably good deal. In September I flew through Reykjavik, on a really nice flight with Iceland Air, and thought that $515 was fantastic, but this is ten times better since I don't have to stop.
I am very, very excited. The assistant headmaster at my school, who is awesome, gave me the green light to take an extra week of work off before winter vacation in February so that I can extend my time in New York. I really wanted to go for longer than just 13 days or so, and now I'll be there for a full 18.5 days! I'll have to make up the hours, of course, but I have plenty of time to do so.
Mark your calendars, 'cause I arrive February 15th and leave on March 5th. There will be a BIG party for my 30th birthday. My birthday itself is the 19th, which is a Friday this year, but it's Presidents' weekend. At least, I assume it is cause it normally is. That means that it's more likely my New York friends will be out of town, but also more likely my non-New York friends could make it in.
Regardless of if I have the party the day of or the week later, I am super-excited that I'll be able to celebrate my birthday with my family this year. I haven't done so since I turned 26, and it's been a bit sad and difficult each year. And it's especially nice since this is such a big landmark year. I still can't believe I'm going to be 30.
I realize that my grammar is not quite up to snuff in this email, which is hopefully permissible given that it's almost 2 am. I just wanted to get it out there that I'm heading back to New York in 3 months and 1 week. Or exactly 100 days. Let the countdown begin!
In other news, I just got back from 10 days in Krakow (liked it) and Budapest (LOVED it), am heading to London (whee!) on Friday, and oh, I think I might have a boyfriend.
Very very early tomorrow morning I am hopping on a plane to Krakow. I will spend four days/three nights there, and then take the night train to Budapest. I'll have six days in Hungary, that I'll split between Budapest, Eger, and maybe Sopron.
This is my first long trip since last February, when I went to Andalusia. I've been wanting to go do Krakow and Budapest for years now, so I'm pretty excited. I'm a bit nervous about the weather, cause it's supposedly very very cold for the season, but there's not much I can do about that. If there's sun, it'll be fine, but the Krakow forecast is for rain with highs in the low 50s. Eek!
While in Krakow I'll spend a day at Auschwitz, which I expect to be pretty difficult. I have no idea how I'll react once there, but I know it's something I really want to do, no matter how hard it is.
I'm also going to visit Wieliczka Salt Mines, which I've been wanting to see since reading the excellent book Salt: A World History last year.
I have two guide books for Krakow, one French and one American, but welcome any and all suggestions for places to eat, visit, shop, etc. I'll be there October 25th in the morning to October 28th at night, when I leave for Hungary. Let me know if you have tips!
So this is now the second time I’m writing this post, as the last time (5 days ago) it was erased before I could save it. I HATE when that happens. I think I’ve learned my lesson. Since vox sucks, I’m going to write my posts in Word and then transfer them over. I’ve been meaning to switch from vox to another platform for, oh, about two years now, but find the whole idea daunting.
Anyway. Back to the story.
After leaving the house in Apt, I took a train from Avignon to Bandol. My parents’ friends Elise and Henry, who are doing a home swap, picked me up at the station. They were spending the day there, although they’re based in the Var. I changed in the street, and went swimming in the most beautifully temperatured water ever. We went for a free wine tasting in town, and while Bandol is very famous for its reds, I didn’t particularly like them. I did like what came next, though: fireworks!
Elise, like me, is a huge fireworks fan. There was a pretty
great show, including lots of pinky purples that you don’t see often, and even
a ring of fireworks that surrounded the full moon.
The next morning, after sleeping at their house in Pierrefeu, we hopped in their car for a trip to Cannes. Along the way, we stopped for a seaside lunch near Frejus. I had a pan bagnat, which, although not entirely authentic, was quite tasty.
We made it to Cannes, where I checked into a hotel that they had reserved for their daughter, Amanda, who arrived later that night. I settled in while Elise and Henry went on to check into their swanky digs, at Cannes’ most famous hotel, the Carlton. We met on the beach for an evening dip and enjoyed the calm before the madness of Cannes at night.
It ended up that none of us liked Cannes. And I think that’s
putting it lightly. Both Elise and Henry had been there when they were younger,
but apparently things have changed. The hotel was SO tacky. Considering the
outrageous prices for their rooms, you’d expect decent service, or at least
breakfast included. But instead you’re nickel and dimed for every little thing.
Even sitting on the beach in front of the hotel isn’t free!
While the fireworks were great, the rest of Cannes is totally not worth it. One of the hotel’s guests, the prince of Saudi Arabia, had parked some of his cars. These included a SOLID GOLD FERRARI. At least, according to the front desk clerk it was solid gold. It certainly looked possible.
There was also a Lamborghini that was in some kind of matte plastic, so it looked like a toy car.
The women all looked like they charge by the evening, and we saw some truly ugly, ridiculously expensive things in hotel’s stores. There were 24-karat gold-covered alligator clutches, gold-tinted mink throw blankets, and men’s watches big enough to serve dinner on. The bathrooms were really out-dated and in need of renovation, although there was a maid who went into the stall after me and folded the end of the toilet paper into an attractive V. Very important.
The main reason we were in town was for the finals of the Cannes Fireworks Festival. That night was France’s entry, which was just outstanding. It was set to music, which I didn’t think I’d like. But it was awesome. At one point I looked over at Elise, Henry, and Amanda, and all four of us were sitting on our lounge chairs with stupid smiles on our faces, jaws hanging open. The fee to sit on these lounge chairs included a glass of champagne and a small plate of pastries. It was really lovely.
A thirty-minute train ride later, and I was in Nice, where Pauline and Patrick met me at the train station! We went for dinner in Vieux Nice, which is beautiful. On Sunday Pauline and I went to the market to shop for lunch and dinner, and then I went to the Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain, or MAMAC. They have a great permanent collection, but I particularly loved the Robert Longo exhibit. His black and white works are really powerful, and it’s kind of overwhelming to see how much he can do with only two colors.
I walked back through Vieux Nice, which was even more beautiful in the late afternoon sun. It really looks like Italy. If you had dropped me down in Nice, without telling me what country I was in, I would definitely have said Italy. The architecture, the colors of the buildings, even the ice cream was Italian!
Speaking of ice cream, I’ve very glad I took Patrick’s suggestion of going to Fenocchio. The orange blossom was scrumptious, but the honey with pine nuts was a bit too strong on the honey flavor. Not a big deal, though, as there are dozens of other flavors to try! Next time I’d get jasmine or rose. Yum.
That night we had dinner of the balcony, where we spied on the neighbors and chatted until bedtime.
The next morning I took a one-hour bus ride to Vence, a beautiful medieval hilltop town. It’s incredibly well preserved, but a bit touristy.
It looks exactly like what you think a medieval town should be, but with an artistic bent: there’s a Chagall mosaic in the cathedral, a 500-year old tree immortalized by Soutine, and a chapel entirely designed by Matisse. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the Matisse chapel, otherwise known as la Chapelle du Rosaire, so I only got a couple of outdoor shots:
While waiting to get in, the clouds started rolling in for the mother of all summer storms.
Supposedly it never rains in Provence during the summer, but in my 9 days there I experienced two huge storms. I had to catch a bus back to Nice, in order to make the last train back to Paris, so I had no choice but to walk 20 minutes in the rain to the bus “station.” Also known as a bus stop. There was a shelter, but the roof of the shelter was missing, so it didn’t do much good. It was actually pretty funny to see people go into the shelter, realize that they were still being rained on, and look up really confused. My purse was so soaked through even my wallet was wet! And let’s not talk about the state of my underclothes. NOT the right day to wear a white shirt. Ahem.
I did manage to make the train back to Paris, although I wish I could have stayed longer in Nice. I snapped a picture of the beach at 6pm, and you can see how packed it is.
That doesn’t appeal so much, but the water looked beautiful. I would happily have spent a morning exploring the hills surrounding the town, and then an afternoon on the beach. And maybe another day trip to Grasse, for the perfume museum. If Pauline stays down there, I will happily invite myself back for another long weekend.
So, that was the end of my time in Provence. There are many more towns and cities I would have liked to see, including Marseille and Aix, but I had packed my bags for a three-week stay in one spot, not for hopping from place to place. I had my computer, and three weeks’ worth of books and toiletries. Everything was just too heavy to be practical, which is too bad. But Provence isn’t going anywhere. I’ll be back.
I went to Lisbon for a long weekend a few weeks back, and met a guy in my hostel. We hit it off, and spent the whole time together. Aaron took two months to travel around Europe and take a break from his normal life in northern California, where he's going through some changes. Now that he's back to the usual, he's kind of taking stock and considering a greater shift.
So we just got off the phone, and he asked if I think it would be crazy for him to sell all his shit and move to Berlin to get a bartender job. I said no, but you're talking to a girl who sold all her shit and moved to Paris for a teaching job.
And then I realized, wow. I did that. I sold all my shit: bed, bookshelves, couch, rugs, kitchen appliances, electronics. I boxed up books and vintage dishes. I gave away bags of clothes. I bought a one-way ticket. I live in Paris.
This might seem incredibly obvious to you. I have, after all, lived here for over two and a half years now. I am in my fourth Parisian apartment. But every so often I'll have a moment where it hits me: Oh. Right. I live in Paris. Huh, how'd that happen?
Aaron asked if the romance has worn off, if I regret my decision. But I really don't. I love that I can go to Portugal for the weekend. I love that in the past week I've been to one of Napoleon's castles and the cathedral where all the monarchs of France are buried. I love that I buy my produce in a market from the 1700s. I just, every once in a while, wonder how I got here.
The last time I felt this way was about six months ago. I was in Monoprix, buying groceries. I had chosen some spices, to help with my advancing cooking skills. And as my cart was rolling up the automatic ramp next to my escalator, I looked over and saw my bags of flour and my jars of spices and the new cake pan I was buying. And something about the spices, their longevity, made me aware that I'm building a life here. Cause you don't buy oregano unless you mean it.
Thursday was my birthday, and despite my worrying it was a wonderful day. I was really, really sick for about 10 days beforehand, and had been concerned that I would spend my whole birthday in bed. But I guess my lungs got the message, and I was up and about.
On Wednesday night Lauren, Pauline, Anna, and I had a celebratory dinner, followed by homemade birthday cake at Anna and Pauline's house:
Last night I met up with Steve, Lauren, Sam, and others at a bar in the 5th that has a real guillotine in it. That was a bit strange . . . Not the company, which was a lot of fun, but rather sitting next to a killing machine. It had been a long time since I'd socialized, due to my nasty cough, and the time went really quickly. I have to make a mental note to get out more in March.
I leave tomorrow afternoon for a week in Spain. It's my birthday present to myself, and I'm really looking forward to it. I've been wanting to do this trip for about two years now. I'll be traveling in Andalusia, visiting Cordoba, Granada, and Seville. The weather is sunny and warmer than Paris, so I plan on soaking up as much vitamin D as possible. I'm going alone, and staying in youth hostels, so wish me quiet nights and hot Spanish men!
I've just discovered my new favorite bedtime snack. I warmed up some milk, grated fresh nutmeg into it, and then added a small spoonful of lime blossom honey. Yum.
I picked up a few new tutoring clients this week, which was really very needed. Hopefully by the middle of February (ie right when the next two-week vacation hits) I'll be a bit more comfortable with the amount of hours I'm working. I've been babysitting a lot the past couple of weeks, which is great for some quick cash, but I still need more hours to feel comfortable.
AND I want to have some leeway to spend money when I'm in Spain for a week! I really should reserve my hostels . . . anyone have recommendations for Seville, Cordoba, and Grenada?
I’m writing this on my third flight in three days, heading back to New York. I can’t believe I’m still functioning, much less in a really good mood and awake. (NB: It took me several days to get this online, but I did write it on the airplane).
Greece was amazing. I expected to like it, but I didn’t think I would love it as much as I did. I came home (to Paris) feeling completely re-energized and re-fueled. So often we need vacations from our vacations, and come home feeling depleted: over-sunned and not ready for the real world. But this time, I came home ready.
Santorini was beautiful, and the bookstore was a lot of fun. The first 10 days or so were fantastic, and I was really into the whole communal lifestyle. But after that, when more and more people were using the same toilet and kitchen and energy, I needed a bit of alone time.
So I found ways to escape: spending hours on Katharos Beach, reading by the Castle, or even just heading up to the terrace for the sunset. I left feeling like I’d accomplished a lot, relaxed and worked and ate and played and learned, and met some amazing people while doing it.
When Pauline and I left for Crete, I think both of us assumed the highlight of our trip would be Knossos. Instead, I think she’d agree that it was the low point. But we LOVED Crete. Thursday evening we took a high-speed boat into Heraklion (ugliest city EVER):
ate seafood at an outdoor ouzerie (grilled octopus, fried sardines, and something else) while the cars sped by, and headed to Knossos in the morning.
What a disappointment.
I was expecting something like Pompeii, which I suppose is completely unrealistic. But still, we were so confused about what we were looking at that the whole trip felt a bit pointless. With barely any signage and most of the complex closed off for renovations, it felt like we were just wandering around piles of stones, with random, overly bright reconstructions thrown in every so often. Boo.
Back in the city, we decided to go to the Archaeological Museum, so that the city wasn’t a total loss. And that was a good idea, as the museum is currently closed for renovation so there is just a small building with highlights that was small and well curated.
Once in Rethymno we settled into our hostel and headed out to get the lay of the land. What a pretty city. It’s very touristy, but still quite nice. The Venetian influence is obvious in the old town, and our dinner by the fortress, overlooking the port, was fantastic. We had octopus in vinegar, cheese croquettes, and seafood risotto. After a free dessert and two free servings of dessert wine, we were stuffed full.
The next morning we woke up at an ungodly hour, and caught the 6:30 bus to Margarites, a small village about an hour outside Rethymno where they specialize in pottery. We arrived in the village at 7:45, with nothing open. We found one taverna where the woman served us a simple breakfast and said we could use the table until 10, when presumably the rest of the town would wake up.
Since the town is written about in guidebooks, and known for its ceramics, I was expecting the prices to be high, or at least normal. But instead, the first store we went into had a wine pitcher and six cups for 6€. Total. Pauline and I looked at each other and were like, fuck. We don’t have room for everything we’re going to want to buy. We could have each afforded to buy a whole table setting for four, if only we had room . . . Next time.
I did buy myself a small bowl (3€), and a few gifts. But ceramics are a hard thing to travel with, especially since I knew there would be three flights before anything reached the recipient. That’s a lot of opportunities to break, crack, or crumble.
We walked about a kilometer outside town to meet Manolis, the famous septuagenarian potter who still uses the original techniques, i.e. no electricity. His work is definitely a bit rough, but he’s hysterical. He spoke to us in German (Crete was heavily occupied, and destroyed, during WWII), and kept exclaiming “America! America!” and then hugging me. A few times I had to turn my head to avoid his kisses landing a bit too near my lips, but he was adorable and so proud of his work and his studio. Pauline and I both left with big smiles.
We had lunch overlooking a lush valley, with a breeze coming off the sea, and drank lots of Zeus juice.
The next morning, Saturday, saw us bussing it to Chania, another Venetian port town and our favorite of the three cities. Our hotel was pretty rocking, despite the asshole of a manager (sorry, P., it’s true), and we vowed to take advantage of the air conditioning, balcony, and huge beds later on. But first, we had to explore.
After a scant 3 hours of sleep, we were back to the bus stop. Me and Cretan bus stations are very good friends. I made it to the airport, and on to Athens. Which I loved. Everyone I’ve spoken to has said that the only thing worth seeing in Athens is the Acropolis, and that the rest of it is dirty and ugly. But I loved it.
I walked through the flea market:
and found the sandal place that everyone talks about, Melissinos the Poet Sandal Maker. It’s now in its third generation, and has shod the feet of everyone from Jackie O. to the Beatles to Sofia Loren. They have a sandal “menu,” and rough sizes ready. When you choose your model and size, the owner cuts the shoe open and fits it precisely to your foot. I bought two pairs (the John Lennon and the Plato), for 25€ each. For hand-made, custom-fit shoes. Score.
Next I went to the Central Market, which was unfortunately closed for Sunday. But the taverna recommended by Lonely Planet was open, and man, was it good. My waiter even offered to store my water bottle in the fridge to cool while I ate.
I visited the National Archaeological Museum, and was completely blown away by the Mycenaean exhibits. My feet could only take so much, and I knew I had a lot of walking ahead of me, so I kind of raced through the vases and sculpture, and headed to the Acropolis.
I have to admit, I got a bit choked up when I first saw the Parthenon. I didn’t expect to be so moved by it, as I’m not a huge Greek history buff, but the history of the place just moved me. It would be fantastic to see it once all the restoration is finished, and the scaffolding removed.
I walked around the whole Acropolis for a while, and really got shivery when I saw the Theater of Dionysus. I mean, drama was born there! In that spot! Euripides and Aeschylus and Sophocles all sat there and had their plays performed there and DRAMA WAS BORN THERE. Fucking awesome.
I doodled through the Plaka, remembering how much fun it is to travel alone. You meet so many people! I met New Yorkers and Frenchies and Canadians . . . people just talk to me when I’m traveling alone. I also found myself at an awesome crossroads. Standing in one spot, I took these two photos:
That’s part of why I loved Athens so much. In some cities (Berlin and Brussels, to name a couple) the mix of old and new just doesn’t work for me. But in Athens, the city has a life and an energy and is so very walkable that I definitely want to go back.
So, there’s my month in Greece. I want to say more about Santorini, but it’s so hard to describe three weeks . . . So here are just some of the moments I remember best: the boat trip I took with Anna, Tim, Quinn, Claire, and Erin. Or sitting in hammock chairs eating ice cream with Nerea. Seeing Pauline complete her film festival. Falling asleep and waking up surrounded by books. Taking silly pictures with Colleen. Hosting contests with the customers. Creating stop-action films over the course of a night. Completing the hike from Oia to Fira. One-upping Catherine with dirty comments, and mortifying Pauline in the process. Going drunk cliff jumping at 3am in Ammoudi. Seeing the sunset again and again. Speaking French and Italian and English, all in the space of 30 minutes. Watching crocodile porn, all piled into beds late at night. Eating on the terrace, surrounded by candles and stray dogs. Thank you to Atlantis Books for making it all possible.
Here, for your viewing pleasure, my three weeks in Santorini:
For the past three weeks I've been in Oia, a small town on the Greek island of Santorini. More specifically, I've been living and working at Atlantis Books. I've had a fantastic time, and have tons of pictures of the fun: fires on the terrace, jumping off cliffs at night, boat trips around the island, and much more. I can't quite believe that the three weeks are up already, but I don't feel sad. I have a feeling I'll be back here . . .
In about an hour, Pauline and I are leaving for Crete. We'll spend four days there, and then I'm off for a day in Athens, before catching a flight back to Paris. Then I have about 30 hours in Paris, before flying to New York for nine days.
That's right, I'm taking three flights in three days, and will be in five very distinct places within the space of one week. I truly hope my body can handle the constant change and grossness of airplanes . . . Although I guess if I've managed to not get sick while living in the (beautiful but rather) dirty conditions here, I'll be fine.
So, there you have it. Sorry this isn't more interesting, and sorry I haven't been writing for the few months. I just haven't quite felt like it. I'm trying to shake that feeling though. Check back to see if I managed. ;)
Happy June!
Now that November is behind me, I feel so much better. That whole month was just a wash, what with being sick, the strike, mountains of stressful paperwork and bureaucracy crap, and leaving my family and friends. I feel like I've gotten over the worst of it, and can now relax and enjoy being here.
This morning I woke up to my internet and phone working exactly when they were supposed to. This is a miracle. When I signed up I was told it would take 19 days, and figured that meant at least a month. But today was the 19th day, and I'm online! I'm so psyched about this, I'm practically giddy. This mean I am typing from the comfort of my couch, rather than standing in my freezing kitchen with the construction workers looking in at me--the only place where I was able to steal WiFi for the past three weeks. I can now call my friends in the States, download my TV shows (oh, Dan Humphrey, how I've missed you), and research travel options.
So things are good.
I'm going to Belgium for five days between Christmas and New Year's. I'll be visiting Brussels, Antwerp, Bruges, and Ghent. Planning trips makes me so happy. I also want to go somewhere for a few days in the first week of January. Ideally somewhere warmer than here, so maybe the South of France, if I can find a good fare.
I found out today that I have my medical visit on the 17th, which is an important step on the way to getting my Carte de Sejour. Now I'm going to scope out the stores on Rue du Four in preparation for the sales, on January 9th. We'll see if I can hold out until then . . .
This past weekend I flew to Los Angeles to see my grandparents. My mom is originally from LA, and her entire family--aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.--is still there. I try to fly out for a few days every year. While it's never exactly a relaxing vacation, it is nice to see all my relatives and stuff my face with my great-aunt's renditions of my great-grandmother's recipes.
This year's trip was originally supposed to happen back in July, but was canceled because my great-aunt got in a horrific car crash. Almost four months later, she's still in ICU. So it wasn't a good time, and luckily my ticket was refundable. I planned on flying out sometime this winter, but with my sudden plans to leave the country, it was now or never. All of this led to my being in LA for 50 hours.
I do not recommend flying that much in two days. I don't know how businessmen do it. My skull felt fused to my neck by the time I landed back at JFK. Still, it was a nice trip and I got to see almost everyone I wanted to.
Most of the two days was spent in Hancock Park, the neighborhood where my family lives. On Sunday my grandparents took me to brunch at Casa del Mar, a fancy hotel in Santa Monica. Besides visiting my aunt in the hospital, this was my first time out of the confines of the Orthodox Jewish world my family inhabits. And while in the bathroom, I looked up and saw Liz, a girl I was in a 3-person play with at Brown! We were Barbies. I remember that I was an anorexic Barbie turned activist, and in one scene I think I was on imaginary rollerblades. It was a bit of a strange play, but lots of fun. It ended with the 3 of us quoting "Phenomenal Woman" while trying not to laugh. Ah, student theater.
I thought this was coincidence enough, but there was more to come. After going through airport security, I realized that if I went straight to the gate, rather than read gossip magazines in Hudson News, I could probably make the earlier flight home. There was one seat left, in the middle of the third to last row. I decided to take it, thinking I would just listen to my ipod and read.
Making my way to the back, I saw that my seat was located right next to a screaming 4-month old. Thinking, "this was a mistake," I smiled at the young parents and happily accepted their offer to switch seats with the father so I could have a window several rows up. Next to Emily, who was in my freshman dorm at Wesleyan! Emily and I were part of the same circle of friends, but hadn't kept in touch over the past 7 or 8 years.
It's crazy how you really do always see someone you know, no matter where you go in the world. Granted, New York and Los Angeles are not exactly opposite ends of the earth, but I was still tickled pink by seeing old friends.
