Well Read (and Drank) Weekend #8

This week's book has served me well so far: The Good Beer Guide to New England.

How is screwing in a canoe like American beer?  It's fucking close to water. 

But not the craft beer of New England!  These past two weeks I've dove into the New England beer culture head first.  The Good Beer Guide to New England is a great beer-tasting companion.  

First on my beer tour is Brookline--no breweries here, but 2 beer tastings which I happily, and a tad tipsily biked in between.  Last weekend was a perfect day for biking and beer.  My favorie find?  A chipotle beer from Cisco Brewers on Nantucket and a mango-tinted IPA from Mayflower Brewing Company.  The Wine Gallery provided a great location for the local beer and cheese tasting.  The venue has a built in tasting room and a "wine jukebox" where you can spin a crazy looking contraption and make your own tasting any day.

 My own neighborhood of Boston is home to the Sam Adams brewery, but I haven't been there yet, so I'll leave a review of Sam until another day.

My first stop outside of Boston was the Beer Works while I had to kill some time out in Lowell.  I sampled a bit of quite a few brews, but settled on one (I was working, after all)--the Boston Garden Golden.    Lowell was a suprise.  Once the 3rd largest city in New England, Lowell's decaying factories and poverty problems are what it's known for these days.  Certainly, with with different weather, the city would have been more depressing, but as it was the river and falls I found gorgeous.  I spent a nice afternoon at the brewery where there was, thankfully, great internet connection.

Next stop: Cape Cod!

Mass Backyard and Abroad

This past month I've had the chance to travel a bunch over New England, mostly for work with a tad bit of fun squeezed in.   

Follow me as I travel Massachusetts this week for work, armed with a bunch of meetings with great Toxics Action Center members (have you donated yet?) to meet with and the Good Beer Guide to New England. 

 

Is Settling Down, Settling?

These past few months I've settled down in Boston.   I hate to use the word 'settled'.  It sounds as if I've given up my travel dreams.  Or maybe regulated them to the dream realm.  Perhaps I did cut out a bit early from my leave of absence, but now that I'm back to the 9-5 (or 9-8 more aptly for the nonprofit world) I hold onto the thought that my 4 weeks vacation are there for the taking.  

Whereas some women wonder if they can 'have it all' and mean family, job, etc., when I think about 'having it all' and  I wonder if I can see the world and have a job that makes an impact on the issues I care about and allows me to hold onto meaningful ties with friends that I really value.  

This year is that test.  

It doesn't happen automatically.  You have to write vacation proposals and then advocate for them.  You have to throw yourself into your work to make sure it actually works.  Friends, even when they love you, are prone to forget to call, so you must pick up the phone and make the plans.  

So far, somewhat good?  There's still places I miss.  I still wish I was better at my job.  There's still people I wish I had brunch with every Sunday.  But I'm finding the balance.  I continue to find the community and beauty of Boston entrancing.  I learn more at work.  I buy plane tickets to see friends and arrange dinner dates when I sweep through their city.  

I don't want to settle, but I am settling down and letting the scale balance itself out to a comfortable place, a balance of travel, impact, and friends, that all might actually be good for me.

20 Tips

Well actually not 20.  Just one--but I made number 2! 

What am I talking about?  If you're a reader of Budget Travel magazine, you no doubt laugh at the funny top 20 tips from readers each month.  Most of them are hilarious little strange things that middle-aged travelers do to make themselves more comfortable while on the road -- like bringing hooks with you when you travel in case your hotel room doesn't have anywhere to hang your towel or save shower caps from hotels to put over your bike helmet when it rains.  Every once in a while you get a gem.  Mine was one of those gems.  

I'm tip number 2 this month in Budget Travel magazine!  Grab it on newstands or check it out online.  

For getting my tip featured I get a year's subscription to Budget Travel--not bad.  

What's my tip you ask?  

"2. Vacation education Anytime I plan a trip, I subscribe to blog feeds and news from the area I'm visiting. It helps me catch up on the culture and gets me even more excited about what's to come! Megan Stokes, Boston, Mass."

Here's a little how to do this.  

*Go to reader.google.com. 

*Sign in with your gmail account (or get one).

*Click on the add a subscription button and type in keywords like "Mexico" "Budget Travel" "Lativian News" or "Boston Art."  
*Visit the website whenever you want and new blog entries will show up in one convenient place to read them all.

If you sign up--let me know!  I really want to get some more folks on Google Reader.  There's a 'bookmark with comment' function that I love.  You can then follow your friend's articles that they like and comment on.  Pretty neat and a much better way to share interesting stuff than forwarding.  Check out the little box to the right that says "Megan's shared items," it's a sampled of my bookmarked articles from Google Reader.

Well-Read Weekend #7

 

I think the sky in Boston knows when it's a weekend.  Every Friday afternoon rolls around and it decides to cut loose in celebration of the work week being over.  All winter this meant horrendously blustery snow storms every weekend.  The sky cloaked in grey, throwing gales of snow down like confetti.  Except for me this was no party.  People say they like the winter because they get to feel all 'cozy' when they go inside.  These people do not pay their own heating bill.  To get cozy I'd pile on two sweatshirts and wear my jacket while I ate dinner at home.

 

But now the sky is letting loose in a different way.  All week we had rainy weather, but on Friday--gorgeous.  It was as if the sky was obliged to do it's April shower thing all week and let loose as soon as the job was done. 

 

In honor of the beautiful sky, yesterday I spent the day exploring Brookline by going beer tasting to beer tasting by bike.  My guide along the way?  Not for Tourists. 

 

I highly recommend these books if they offer them for your city.   You'll know the ins and outs of each neighborhood better than a long-time local, be able to surprise your friends with the hippest bars in their neighborhood they didn't even know about and find where every swimming pool, skating rink and bowling alley is town.

 

This book was my bible in LA.   Well-worn and well-loved.  It lived in my bag or my car, depending on my mode on transportation and guided me straight to the best eats and bars in town (and around the confusing highway system). 

 

In Boston it's indispensible for biking around when streets double back on eachother (did you know Tremont intersects with Tremont?) and knowing the story behind the old amazing church you're staring at. 

 

Each guide really does a great job at being for the local.  All the guides show you where banks, book stores, bars, etc. are.  The LA guide also has a detailed one-pager on each mall and beach.  Boston has dots on each map to show you where donut shops and community gardens are.  (Interesting commentary on what's important for Angelenos v. Bostonians, no?)   LA's guide is large with a pull-out highway map.  That would never work in Boston, where you usually get around by foot or T, so it's guide is condensed and fits in a pocket.  

Right now you can great deal on the notfortourists website: buy a customized wall map of your neighborhood and get a free book!

More Beantown Steals

At the risk of turning this into one of those deal/coupon blogs, I'm going to share with ya'll the MassValue Pass.

I was lured into visiting the site by their colorful ads in Budget Travel mag.  But nothing hooks me like a good deal.

Download the MassValue Pass here.  Especially for a mass resident, there's some good discounts here:

• * Buy one get one free admission at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Save $12)
• * Buy two tickets, get the third free for Ahla Brookline food tours.  (Save $44) 
• * Boston Bike Tours Discount -- they offer a brewery and beaches tour! (Save $8)
• * Boston by Foot by one Get One Free Tickets (Save $24)
• * 25% off Charles River Canoe and Kyak (Save $4/hr)
• * and 25% off some crazy thing crazy thing called Boston Interactive where they send you on a scavenger hunt around Boston neighborhood's sending clues to your iphone (god knows how much this costs--they've use improv actors!)

I'm mainly bookmarking these for my own use, but join me if/when you're in town!

Well-read Weekend #6

So far I've managed to keep myself apart from the Italy craze.  On my last Europe trip we skipped over the country entirely since it's in such an inconvenient place--jutting out into the water protected on to by the Alps.  (slight sarcasm there) I haven't read Under the Tuscan Sun or felt any deisre beyond 'graci' to learn the language.  Folks oooh and aaah over Italy and I'll counter with my love for the Eastern European capitals or Spain.  

But when a friend whose opinion you trust hands you a book and says you must read it, you read it.  This is what happened with Four Seasons in Rome by Anthony Doerr.

At the face of it, Four Season looks incredibly cliche--new parents with twins from Iowa move to Rome.  They live out the stresses of being parents in a foreign city.  What struck me at first from Anthony's stories is that I do not want to be a parent.  It seems like hell.  Wailing constantly, the toothing children sweating from the summer heat don't sleep through one night.  If and when I go to Rome I am definitely going childless.

But then as Anthony and his wife slowly get over what seems like the horror of child-rearing and get into the groove (and a babysitter), Anthony's recondite perceptions are fascinating.  He gleans the deepest truths from his everyday experiences with the city, his children and his stuggles writing.  He connects his life with those of thousands of years of Romans before him.   He draws strange parallels of his observations with those of Pliny the Elder's as he reads Natural History.

The city ceases to be a cliche of Romans and cathedrals and more of a year long meditation on the generations before and to come and what we think of the world.

Since reading this book I've rented A Roman Holiday and made pasta primavera, so I'm afraid I've fallen from my pedastool above fads.  Perhaps Rome is more than a fad, no?

Deals on Local Restaurants - Wherever Local is for You

I still can't believe that this is even real.  I am always looking for new impressive gifts to send my parents that don't actually require packaging and mailing them myself.  And since I'm a procrastinator--something that arrives in one's e-mail inbox is even better.  A couple years ago I googled "restaurant gift certificate" and found www.restaurant.com. 

I gladly paid the $10 for a $25 restaurant gift certificate to be sent to my dad.  He then was able to browse and pick out a hot new place in Philly and have dinner on me.  But now they send me these discount codes so that you can literally pick up a $100 gift certificate for $12.

There's a just a few catches--most have some restrictions on them.  Like you have to buy 2 dinner entrees or it's not good on Friday.  Be careful about large gift certificates; they have high minimum spending limits.  

The worst is probably being a bit embarresed when you hand over the printed out gift certificate.  Buy hey, a deal is a deal.

Try it yourself!  Here's how it works.

Go to the www.restaurant.com website.

You can buy a specific restaurant certificate, but I recommend you just go to buy a gift certificate and then send it to yourself.  You then can use portions of the total amount anytime you'd like by signing in to your account.

At checkout enter 'FEAST' into the coupon code box.

Wah-lah--70% off already discounted gift certificates!

You'll thank me for this one.

Happy Easter!

Has spring finally arrived in Boston?  While it's another sunny, gorgeous day, the temperature is decidedly winter.  Oh well.  

Today I celebrate the holiday by eating carrot cake, doing a big spring cleaning and watching Jesus Christ Superstar. 

Well-Read Weekend #5

I continued on my spanish kick this week, devouring yet another Gaudi book. Perhaps I do regeret leaving Spain so early. I also just got done with my second flamenco class. Flamenco, I've learned, is not just looking angry and stomping your feet--it is a complicated combination of head turns, skirt work, heel-tow, hand twisting, and body angling. I'll need to practice a bit.

What was easy however, was reading The Gaudi Key by Esteban Martin and Andreu Carranza.

I remember longingly picking up the book at FNAC, a giant department store in Barcelona that was a fun way to kill time without spending any money. (It also has an interesting Socialist history if you read the wiki article.) I say longingly not because I couldn't afford the book, but rather it was only out in Catalan, and later Spanish. I had already started on my Gaudi obsession trying to visit every building he had created in the city.

Finally the book has come out in English, and armed with my library card, I had it delivered within a week to my branch.

The Gaudi key has some serious flaws. It reads much like a mystery novel and lays the religion on pretty thick. I'll blame the lack of poetry on the translators. (How many Catalan to English translators exist anyway?) I'll blame the religion on Gaudi's nature. In any case, it was not too hard to swallow all the God talk when it came alongside the fantastical secret tunnels and objects hidden in Gaudi's works. I lump it all in to fantasy.

The book might be a bit hard to follow for one not familiar with Gaudi's works. But for one who is, it was really exciting to follow along the couple's mission as they raced through the streets of Barcelona to each of Gaudi's buildings decoding the mystery of the knights. Toward the end I pulled out my picture books of Gaudi's architecture and a google map of barcelona and tried myself to decode the symbolism and riddles.

I'd recommend for other lovers of Gaudi, otherwise the book is just a confusing Catalan copy of the DaVinci Code.

Well Fed Weekend

No, you are not misreading.  This, my friends, was a well fed weekend.  You'd think, 'Oh, tapas.  They're so little, so they must be so simple to make.'  Wrong.  I spent hours on Friday evening cooking a tapas masterpiece.  Notice, I did not say slaving in the kitchen.  This cooking, was pure joy--chaotic, messy, noisey, multiple burners going, wine already uncorked and mad dashes to the store to pick up missing ingredients. 

What resulted from the chaos was a table jam packed of little plates of food--patatas bravas, tortilla espanol, olives, cheeses, bruschetta, pa amb tomaquet.   All tied together with lots of wine and about 20 cloves of garlic.  I did manage to layer in some well-readness: my friends and I all exchanged books.  I've got some great new travel literature to review for future entrees.

The only meal until late at night the next day was the chocolate and dip tasting over at the Boston Cheese Cellar.  I spent the day trying to work off all the carbs I had indulged in the previous day--a bike ride through the Arboretum and a flamenco dance class at the Brewery complex.

Finally at night, my couchsurfing guest, room mate and I ventured into the North End for some real Italian.  We were able to find a place with no wait (and no waitstaff), thus prices were low (for the North End).  

I'm still trying to recover from my well fed weekend.  Next weekend--back to the books.

Beantown to Big Apple

As I resolved, I did get out on Saturday.  I hit up my favorite diner, Veselka, walked a lot and helped document a lindy bomb.  Lindy bombs do the opposite of real bombs--they draw people to them and create fun.  All you need are a bunch of crazy dancers who like to show off, a boombox with batteries and a way of sweet-talking security so they let you do it.  

Here's some of the dancers in Grand Central Station:

And Times Square:

Well-Read Weekend #4

Well this weekend I'm in New York, and doing more social things like hanging out at a friend's house and making mac and cheese for them and playing Wii instead of reading.  I love traveling, but I've been on the road for a week now and sometimes, even when in an exciting place like NYC, you just want to turn on the television and east some mac and cheese.  I once spent an entire weekend in Paris and the only museum I went to was the Catacombs.  My friend and I spent the day cooking a big dinner for her 6 room mates and then played Risk in French.

And it was great.  Today I'm resolving to get out of the house and with my current budget I'm going to be limited to doing  as much free stuff as possible.  I'll make an exception for Veselka, my old Ukranian diner I used to wait the graveyard shift at freshman year.  Then I'm off to dance in Grand Central Station.  But there's one thing you definitely need to catch when in NYC: art.  Here's a new edition of a book I loved back when I lived in NYC, was poor and looking for culture:

Public Art New York by Jenifer Phifer

Some of the best art in New York is not hanging on the walls in the Met--it's in the streets (and bars and lobbies) of New York.  I picked up an older version of this book in the library and spent a week wandering through the nooks and crannies of NYC to find great art.  

Bank and hotel owners were once great patrons of the art.  Architects of apartment buildings were fans of surrealism.  This book is a great way to find about 2 centuries of art that are mosaics laid into the hotel lobbies and paintings hanging in bars.  It also has some great background and history on how the art got there.   You'll feel a little funny staring up at an Alexander Calder mobile in the Chase Bank as business people rush around you, but you'll also feel a little like you know a secret they don't know.  

Some of my favorites:

A Picasso sculpture in an apartment complex in NoHo

A Maxfield Parish in the St. Regis Hotel Bar

  Framing Union Station in the 14th St. Subway

All absolutely free!  Enjoy!

Far and Away in Budapest

My recent travels are limited to New England, which exudes a charm of its own, for sure, but nothing gets me going like a far away locale.  A friend of mine is headed to one of my favorite cities in Europe, Budapest.  Here's my recommendations for her and anyone else who's headed thataway.

I once had an Italian corner me at a party and for nearly 20 minutes sang the virtues of Prague.  The 'song' went something like this.  "I ate like a king every night for change - Prague.  The gothic, cobbled streets were magical to explore - Prague."  And so on, every verse ending with a Prague chorus.  (For best results, draw out Prague with a rolled-r and a breathy gue.  Add in an Italian accent.)  

Perhaps it was like that a decade ago when he went, but now Prague, while charming, is no longer the secret capital of Europe.  The word is out; it is crowded and expensive.  Worth a trip, yes, but not the magical mecca of the East (Europe) it once was. 

Instead, if you want magic, go to Budapest.  (To say it like a local - Budapescht.)  It probably also helped that I made the trip at the end of October, when whatever crowds had been there had dissipated.  Budapest is actually downright cheap: try €6 for a bed in a hostel downtown.  Dinners for just a few euros and attractions for the same.  Its accessible: Budapest has the oldest subway in continental Europe, an extensive trolley system (great way to see the city) and buses for all other corners.  Here's my picks for a trip:

The Grand Hall Market

Luckily, this place is seeing way better days than under communist rule.  There's 1 paprika stand for every 2 vegetable stands.  Most stand owners won't speak English, so be prepared to use motions, Hungarian or German.  I picked up some great paprika and vegetables here and kept my costs low by cooking half my meals at the hostel.   Mmmm, vegetarian goulash.

Városliget:  The City Park

Here you'll find examples of each kind of Hungarian architecture and the statue of Anonymous.  Literally, this guy is called Anonymous and he apparently is some monk that wrote the only history of their country.  They take his book as truth--nuts!

Hero's Square

Best seen with a tour guide to explain all the history you're seeing.  I recommend Absolute Walking Tours.  Pick up a coupon card for them at the tourist center.

Kerepesi Cemetery

Absolutely gorgeous.  I recommend going as the sun is setting for the best spooky effect of the light on the art deco graves.  Make sure your camera battery is charged!

The Children's Railway

Probably the ultimate off-the-beaten-track sight.  Take a subway to a bus to a cog-railway.  Walk up a hill.  You'll reach a miniature train station run by children.  It was started by the communists, but the Hungarians still love it.  The ticket sellers are kids, the conductor is a kid, and they're all dressed up in little uniforms taking their jobs very seriously.  Go, seriously.

The House of Terror

Hands down the best Nazi/Communist museum in all of Europe.  Artsy, thought-provoking and downright horrifying.  

Coffee Houses

There's many here in Budapest.  Budapest was one of the first places in Europe to get the coffee craze when they were invaded by the Turks.  Today Budapest has a fine tradition of coffee houses, where the intellectuals of the day gather.

Statue Park

When Eastern Europe was liberated from Communist rule, most cities did the cathartic thing and smashed the commie statues to bits.  Not Budapest, they took all the statues to the outskirts of town and made the Statue Park.  It is on the side of the road, completely unkempt and overgrown with weeds.   Fitting and fascinating.

Bathhouses

Speaking of cathartic recommend doing the baths at least once during your stay.  The Gellert Baths are the fanciest, art deco ones with beautiful tiled rooms, but my favorite is the people's bath house, Szechenyi.  You'll find the Szechenyi bath in the city park.  It's huge, with several outdoor pools.  Make sure you catch the old men in speedos playing chess poolside, book yourself a massage and wait in line to stand under the spouting fountains in the pool.  Get used to seeing lots of skin.

Lastly, make sure you stop by a City Spy recommended hostel and pick up a hard-copy of a Mr. Gordonsky's City Spy Map.  I found these little guys, to be the best maps and have the best reviews of food and hangouts across Europe.  

Well-read Weekend #3

Another Saturday, another trip to the library. This week, my stack of checked out books has gotten quite large. It's the trap of the 'hold this item for me' button. You see, the Jamaica Plain library branch is quite small. It's a place that exudes literary magic--old, old fiction paperbacks and dated non-fiction. A sizable travel book collection and a curious shelf on JP history. It's all housed in a building that I'm sure was once some one's home with dark wooden paneling and high ceilings. It invites you to pull up a chair.

But then there's the other several dozen branches out there. All connected online, you can surf them all at once, create a saved wish-list and with one click the book you desire is whisked right to your branch. You get a call when it arrives. I recommend seeing if your library does this.

It's dangerous to have so many books at one's fingertips. I get greedy, and then stressed as the due-date approaches and they are yet to be read.

Here's one such stress-inducer that isn't quite done yet:

Gaudí: A Biography by Gijs Van Hensbergen

What is Barcelona without Gaudi? Just another Valencia with second-rate paella. Gaudi not only puts the facade on Barcelona, but infuses it with soul too. His ideas of Catalan nationalism and his helping birth the modernista movement is what creates the Barcelona of today.

To think that his architecture was laughed at back in his day: "I don't know whether we are graduating a genius or a fool," declared his patron upon graduating him from architecture school. Famous Barcelonian resident, George Orwell despised his buildings. Today he is revered. There's even an effort to have him sainted.

Though little records remain of his life, author Hensbergen does an amazing job at piecing together the information we have left, weaving it in with the politics and cultural revitalization of turn of the century Catalunya. The result is a deep delving into the brain of one of the greatest architects of all time and a picture of the shaping of the pride of a nationless state. There's a lot of guessing of the part of the author as to what made Gaudi such a devout Christian, vegetarian and celibate, but he walks us through all his reasoning and evidence of his answers.

If going to Barcelona, it is best to know a bit about the man at the forefront of the Catalan spirit and so many spots on your tourist map. I highly recommend as a read for those on their way to this modernista beacon.

Haven't been to Barcelona and want to know what all the fuss is about for Gaudi's architecture? A simple google image search of 'Gaudi' will give you the answer.

Well-read Weekend #2

It's another well-read weekend.  Of course there's something special about curling up in a blanket next to a fire when it's snowy outside, sipping a hot-chocolate and reading a good book.  There's something even better, though, about sunbathing on your private deck, the long-awaited spring sun warming you, reading a good book.  

So that is what I did today.  Now that the sun is once again out, the snow, come on Monday, was gone by Sunday, ao I had another chance to enjoy being outside.  I hopped the bus to "Rahsi," what the locals apparently call my new favorite hood, Roslindale.  I've become a regular at the cheese shop.  I did my grocery shopping at the Village Market and picked up a fresh loaf of bread at the bakery.  While I waited for the bus I finished my latest travel read:

A Year in the World: Journeys of a Passionate Traveler by Frances Mayer. (go ahead, pick it up on Amazon used for $.01)

Frances is the author of several books about travel, including Under the Tuscan Sun, which catapulted herself, and the rustic region in Italy to fame.  It must be strange to have a movie made of your memoir, with the leading character using the same name.  The fame has gone a bit to her head.

The book is a straightforward, poetic account of a year of her travels through Europe, Morocco and Turkey.  Her rich, vivid descriptions of the luxurious meals tantalize my tastebuds and her dramatic rendering of the landscapes and water surrounding far-away lands take my soul's eye there.  I skip her just as lengthy descriptions of English gardens, one of which is enough to give me a picture of what the dozen or so flowerbeds she visits might look like.

I sympathize with her drive to find the local, the authentic, the back-door experiences, that any traveler seeks out, but her fame and wealth taint the authenticity of the experiences.  How many of us can stay at a different British country-side cottage every other night, taxi around Greek Islands, go shopping for 3 Turkish rugs to ship home, or get comped into a Mediterranean cruise to lecture on travel?

It's not so much that it's wishful thinking, but rather, I'd rather skip the lofty tourist experiences.  Mayes looses most likability when, during her most stressful part of her journey, she misses all the taxis back to her cruise ship, being forced to walk 3 miles and take a bus back to the ship. 

Her passion wins you back over when she recalls lines from Greek Poet, Alexander Matsas as she stares out over the sea on the island of Crete or richly-details the cooking of food in Lisbon.

All in all, an enjoyable read for foodies, history and poetry enthusiasts, and gardeners.  Skip it if you're looking for adventure.

Snow Day

When you're grown up snow days don't mean the same thing.  Trade in that sled for a shovel, the hot chocolate and snow pants for coffee and a slushy commute.

I got a glimpse into how nice the city will be when spring decides to finally hit Boston.  This weekend I slipped on my much neglected tube-top dress and pedaled around Centre street to do brunch, hit the library and check out the growing multitude of second-hand stores on the main drag. 

Today it's 10-13 inches and back to the wool coat.  :::sigh:::

Well-read Weekends

Weekends are not typically the day you start resolutions. Mondays are more apt for those kind of things, but who's got time to blog on Mondays, but professionals. As we know, I'm not quite there yet (or rather a continent or two away), so I'll start on Sunday. Introducing . . .

I've been through many literature phases from historical to sci-fi, to even dabbling in a bit of biography. My recent love are travel books. Let's hope this one isn't just a phase. Every weekend I'll review a recent book I've read; it could be travel literature, a guide book, or even a book that's so much about a place that the setting is almost it's own character. I've amassed a decent collection of books of this type so far, but the Boston library is my new literary playground, so I'll be sure to include some new gems from there too.

This week's pick:

My French Whore by Gene Wilder

I picked this up in a small book store in Aspen. Reading a book by Gene Wilder was intriguing and the small size was perfect for packing in my already over-stuffed suitcase.

The story goes like this: Paul Peachy's work and one-sided marriage in Minnesota leave him empty, so when the chance to enlist in World War I comes, he does. He's shipped off to France and ends up impersonating a famous German spy. He eventually fulfills the exciting life and love he's always wanted--something he never would have found if he had stayed at home in Minnesota.

The hilarity and heart-felt feelings that come from Paul Peachy's tale, you would recognize from Wilder's acting. You can imagine a young Gene Wilder playing the character of Paul Peachy the whole story, which makes reading The French Whore almost like watching a film.

But I digress, this is a travel book review. The book does a fantastic jobs of caricaturing the characters of different countries--Germany, France, US--in a way that doesn't make them just stereotypes. And who can't relate the confusion of a traveler getting way in over his head on his first trip to Europe--and falling in love with a foreigner.

A short read, but a sweet one that I whole-heartedly recommend you pick up to carry around in your over-stuffed bag on your next trip. It'll be worth the space.

Best Places for Being Bougie in Boston

I filled this weekend with good wine, modern art and lots of cheese.  I kicked off my bougie weekend with a wine tasting in the South End.  The Wine Emporium had a bubbly wine rep and a good deal on 3 bottles.  (Good thing too because we finished them all the next night.)

Saturday I shared my new favorite nook of  Boston with Chris and Colleen--Roslindale Village.  We started at the Boston Cheese Cellar, a food store you actually want to be smelly.  Chris gravitated to the stinky, strong British cheeses.  Colleen tested all the French selections.  I nabbed some more Spanish cheese to go with my membrillo and some holy swiss.  

Next stop was Fornax Bread Company for fresh bread then Tony's Italian Market for buffalo mozzerella, gnocchi and prosciutto.  Last, we swung by the Roslindale Fish Market, which was stocked with giant slabs of fish, gallon jugs of olives and curious cans of greek specialties.  I picked up some stuffed grape leaves and Socrates soap.  

We then proceeded to cook and eat for several hours.  Cheese plates, gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce, squash tortelli with sage.  And 7 bottles of wine.  (To be fair, there were 8 of us.)

Sunday more cheese with breakfast then off to the Institute of Contemporary Art for Shepard Fairey's first museum exhibition.  The museum is a gorgeous one, a glass, boxy structure that juts out over the Boston harbor.  The exhibit was a raw, beautiful and thought-provoking one.  After seeing so much of Fairey's work - clean-lined posters, stenciled graffitti in NYC and Andre stickers on phone poles - it was great to see the layered, textured and larger than life art in frames and good lighting.  The rest of the museum was quality, though small.  

I'm wrapping up my weekend finally fininshing up D.H. Lawrence's Women in Love.  

Tomorrow I think I might have to eat burger king, watch a reality show and drink a bud just to balance this all out.

Diving into JP

I finally end up moving to a sweet apartment in Jamaica Plain and then I leave to travel more. Then the cold weather got a grip on me, giving me bronchitis and strep throat. Okay, maybe those were more my doing than the weather. Finally the past 2 weekends I had a lull in my busy schedule and recovery to finally take advantage of my new neighborhood.

At first I resisted the mass exodus of nonprofit workers from Cambridge to JP. I like cities, I like culture and JP seemed more of a place to settle down with a family. You can see how skewed my sense of what is 'suburban' by the fact that I judge seeing 10 trees and 1 baby stroller as being suburban. At face value Cambridge seems way hipper. Filled with glasses-wearing intellectuals, stores like Urban Outfitters and bars like the Cantab, you'd just assume this is where cool people like.

Au contraire, however! JP is as hip as it gets. Perhaps it was the down-to-earth nature of the residents that fooled me. I wasn't used to niceties after NYC, LA and Miami after all.

Around since 1630, JP is filled with lots of old buildings, local business, and plenty of colonial-cozy bars. It's got a sizable gay population and artists. Though I've heard it called up and coming, it's still pretty cheap and the orange line is quick.

I've spent my last few weekends reveling in what, up until now, I resented--snow.

My neighborhood is equipped with a free skating rink. For $2 skate rentals you can whirl around on the ice and watch a crazy skate show from the local urban youth. (Who knew they like skating?) I joined the community pool, a mere $25 annual membership and loved the warm water after spending the morning biking around in the cold.

Last weekend's topper, though, was the Franklin Park Snow Festival. We seemed to be the oldest non-parents around as we watched about a hundred kids barrel down a hill on toboggans. We contributed a pretty scary-looking snowman to the snow crowd and warmed ourselves inside on free hot chocolate.

I'm excited to see what else JP's got to throw down before I start traveling again.

Squished States

Florida and California are sunny paradises that seem to go on forever, but it's fun being in New England where's a short drive to your next-door neighbor states.  Friday I offered up my car for a group drive up to Portland Maine to a friend's 30th birthday party.  I couldn't imagine anywhere having more snow or being more cold, but there they were, giant 5 foot piles of frozen white stuff.  

Next was Providence.  I had driven down to Ikea and figured, well half way there, might as well call my friend.  My friend, whom I hadn't seen in years, was, thankfully, not doing anything, so I sped right down to the Ocean State.  The city was absolutely adorable.  Hilly roads, small little streets, cute New England houses.

Despite the car fatigue, today I drove a load of co-workers up to Concord, New Hampshire for a staff meeting.  My day was spent in meetings, but I ventured out to a cute little co-op that served a mean cup of coffee, of which I imbibed several throughout the day. 

In each case, my experience was limited to basically seeing the people that I had come to see and not exploring the city.  Heck, I've barely had a chance to explore Boston, but each little state capital left me with the impression that in New England, small and quaint are beautiful.  Neon is completely unnecessary when you've got little capitol buildings with shiney gold domes.  

Sick

This city is kicking my ass.  First bronchitis now strep--I've been sick since I got here.  I think I'm allergic to cold weather.

You Meet the Nicest People on Vacation

My eyes open slowly a giant wall-window lets in the bright, bright sun.  If it weren't for the immediate pain that surges through my temples, I'd think this was paradise.  

Through the window there's a pool with jets streaming over a waterfall.  A couple sit in the hot tub and a long bar winds around to a door to the outside world.  

The outside world doesn't seem to exist.  The sun is so bright that nothing can be seen through the door.  Over the walled yard are a few palm trees swaying in the wind. 

I've spent myself again this weekend.  It was Aspen all over again.  Substitute swing dancers for environmentalists.  Sub beaches for snow.  My body can't really take so much anymore.  Too many hangovers--I think I'll swear off drinking (again) for good.

I spend the rest of the day alternatively laying out by the pool to faithfully work on my tan and dozing inside when it gets too hot.  Its so nice to feel hot again. 

After another exciting dance on Saturday, I finally talk someone into giving me a ride back to Miami Beach.  This time I'm not encased in a gated Boca Raton community, but in the Environment Florida staffer flophouse.  I head over to the beach, which is quiet and more ntaural then what I remember for Miami Beach.  When I've recovered again, I jump on the bus and head down to South Beach. 

When I jumped off the bus, the same feeling that overwhelmed me that I felt when I emerged from the metro in LA.  I felt at home.  

It's gotten worse.  The more I trave, the more pieces of me get left in each city.  I find things and people to love and I grow roots.  When I leave each piece of me I left behind tugs me back, so that now I feel happy and unhappy in each place.  Sometimes I feel that it's better not to travel.  Not to know who you're missing.  Never be able to close your eyes and feel the warm sand or see the view from the top of Mullholand Drive.  Not to know four walls that feel like home.  

The only solution is to travel more--to visit the places and people where the roots pull me.

Thank God for 4 weeks paid vacation.

I'm sitting at Tapas Y Tintos on Espanola Way.  I used to come here 2-3 times a week and I never had one visitor to South Beach that I didn't take here.  The manager and bartender both remember me.  My espresso martini tastes the same.  And when my friends arrive and we sit down for dinner and the flamenco I don't think there's anywhere else I'd rather be. 

I ask Adam to hire me to work in Miami again, half jokingly, half for real.  That dream will have to wait a year or two though.  

And who knows?  By then my heart may have taken root in Boston.

Almost Abroad

Just when I'm thinking I'm loving standing still, I start itching to travel again. My new posters just came in for my apartment--luscious Cote d'Azur landscape, a 1950's tourism poster for Mexico and a view of LA's cityhall from Olvera Street. I finally got my library card and found out that the JP library is known for it's travel section, so I picked up Mexico, A traveler's history and La Revolucion. I've subscribed to new travel blogs and obsessively ask anyone who's been about beaches in Mexico.

The time (or budget) for travel abroad hasn't come yet, but I figure Miami is darn close. Every year this weekend is the South Florida Lindy Exchange. Since moving I've gone from host to hostee, but it's so great to return to Miami and feel at home again. There'll be the normal dancing all night, but I'm most excited to feel the humidity again, to see my old bartenders at Tapas, to watch the sunrise on the beach, to chat with the characters on Lincoln Road.

I think it was my move to Miami Beach in the first place that started my wanderlust. I packed up everything, got dropped off in what was, granted, the same time-zone, but a 24 hour drive away from anything that I knew. Spanish was the first language. Palm trees didn't signal vacation, they were your landscaping. The clothing, scarce and the parties, huge.

For this northeastern girl, I might as well have been in South America. That's the thing about Miami, you're so close to dangling off the edge of America, that you may have well not be in America. The papers are filled with news of Cuba and even the tourists seemed to adopt their own special 'Miami' personality now that they were on vacation.

Bring it on.

Paht-holes

I actually saw a work men's crew filling in a pothole today on my main road in my neighborhood.  "Hey there!  Watch the paht-hole!" they cautioned as I crossed by on my commute.

I feel like potholes are the thing that cantankerous city-dwellers always complain about and never get fixed.  In New York City they certainly didn't fix them.  Most walkers never would notice since they're easy enough to see and walk around, except of course when they filled with rain water, but as a biker in New York you notice.   And especially when you're riding a 50's cruiser bike through midtown with an old-school basket holding your CD collection on the way to a gig.  And most definitely when you're a driver (though potholes paled in comparison to jaywalkers, one-way streets and cabbies).

Potholes are part of New York's charm.  It adds to the grittiness that New Yorkers love and see slipping away as 42nd street is Disnefied and Alphabet City is more and more Sesame Street friendly.  Ask a New Yorker why potholes don't get fixed and they'd probably tell you to love it or leave it.

But Boston tries to win you over.  Paving pot holes, genuinely apologetic voices from the train conductor when the train is late, countless community gardens, a dozen public ice rinks and folks that excuse themselves when they squeeze themselves next to you on the train.  I love it.  Have I become soft?  Jaded by the self-absorption of all the other cities I've lived in (probably deserved, I admit) and tired of the perfection of LA and the perceived-perfection of grit in NYC?  The laissez faire of everything in Miami?  The self-important politicos of DC?

Is it time for me to settle down?  I think I could not have picked a better place.  Boston is a city that actually wants you.  Their population has shrunk over the last century and the state laments the potential loss of a representative in congress this year.  So many things are meant for sharing here--the gardens, co-ops, large multi-bedroom apartments, zip cars, neighborhood associations. 

And with the disappearance of potholes in my neighborhood, I might just be getting a little comfy.

Survivor

Well, that's it.  I've survived another year.  I ended up living in 6 different cities and sleeping in 22 different beds, couches and futons.  

I had weeks where I dined in fabulous restaurants across the country on my dad's tab.  I had weeks where I'd eat sushi for lunch and dinner.  I also had weeks when I resorted to grits 3 times a day and a power bar for vitamins.  I danced the night away on the beach in Virginia and at house parties in Boston.  I watched the Sunrise in Miami and set in Santa Monica.  I had a live-in boyfriend and I had my Aspen flings.  I just braved 20 degree weather and a 20 minute walk to a New Year's party, though I preferred cruising along the Pacific Coast highway in Malibu last January.

This year was full of stark contrasts.  My life was taken out, flipped over, shaken around, and stirred.  And while it's clear that the scenery changed frequently and dramatically, it'll take some sorting out to figure out how I've changed.

Here's to settling down and figuring it out in 2009.