29 December, 2007 | 10 Comments

I arrived back in London today. What an ordeal! I never thought I’d make it. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have kissed the ground upon arrival.

I was supposed to fly back to London straight from Charlotte on US Airways, but there was a maintenance problem with the plane — rumors spread through the boarding area that it was the engine or the door or the radar. A part had to be flown in from another airport and we had to sit in the waiting area as the hours ticked by very slowly. We were supposed to leave last night at 8:00 p.m., then it was pushed back to 9:00, then 10:00, then 11:00. I began to think the flight would be cancelled. At least they gave us meal vouchers , which I blew on tea, mints and bottled water. I’d already had a two-hour drive from Asheville to Charlotte in the rain and fog and was not feeling peppy.

During the delay, I was quite shocked at the behavior of the British passengers. I would say the passengers on this flight were probably split 50-50 between British and American and the Brits totally lost it! Now listen, I am the first to point out the embarrassing way that Americans behave, so I’m not being biased. One British guy was screaming at the woman at the boarding gate and was actually arrested by airport police and taken way. Many of his fellow Brits were complaining extremely loudly, bitching and moaning and exclaiming things like “I hate this city!”, “I hate this airline!”, “I’m never coming here again!”, “I need a drink!” They were sitting on the floor and rolling around. They surrounded the ticket desk, demanding to be put up in hotels in a very nasty way. I sat next to one British woman who told me that the engine on the plane was ruined and that if we took the flight, we’d effectively be “committing suicide.” You know, I hate flying and I really didn’t need to hear stuff like that. I can be quite pessimistic but even I’m not that bad.

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25 December, 2007 | 4 Comments

Merry Christmas from North Carolina! Here are a few pics from my travels so far…

20 December, 2007 | 5 Comments

Here is the second-annual Anglofille Birthday Self-Portrait in Mirror Obscured by Camera. Yes, I know it’s an orange and over-processed photo and I look slightly crazy and my hair is wet, but I like to shake things up. It’s also a day early, but after this post I’m signing off for a week. I think at this point in 2007 we’re all sick of hearing from me and I’m kinda sick of myself too, so a break is in order.

Yesterday I landed in the wondrous city of Philadelphia, of which I saw the airport, bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-95, the Ben Franklin Bridge and that’s it. I was promptly whisked away to the wilds of New Jersey by my dear friend and boy toy William. I’m relaxing at his place today and we’re going out for Mexican food. Ahhhhhh. I also get to sleep in his guest room, which has more books in it than the British Library.

Tomorrow we head to NYC to celebrate my birth, that glorious event. I’m actually very excited about New York. Normally the thought of it just stresses me out, but not this time. While there I need to visit my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn to do some research for my novel and then we’ll hang out in Manhattan and paint the town red and stay in a mid-town hotel that got reviews on Trip Advisor with headlines like “Never Again!”, “My Trip Was Ruined!”, “Not Bad If You Have No Standards.” I can’t wait.

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19 December, 2007 | Comments

I jumped across the pond today. For the whole flight from Gatwick to Philadelphia there was sunlight and bright blue sky out the window, plus the most heavenly clouds. It almost made 8-hours of Christmas airline travel misery bearable.

I haven’t visited the motherland in sixteen months. Will be traveling around a bit. More soon!

31 October, 2007 | Comments

Until the conference last week, I had never been to Oxford. I didn’t realize it was so close to London — the train from Paddington takes a little less than an hour. My schedule was pretty full, so there wasn’t much time for sightseeing. Still, I climbed Carfax Tower and the tower of University Church (that mostly involves a very narrow stone staircase, requiring one to hold onto ropes) to get a glimpse of the spires around the city. The colleges are beautiful and very Gothic-looking; I was lucky to be there at the peak of autumn, with the lovely golden trees and a light fog in the mist.

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27 August, 2007 | 6 Comments

“Have you ever tasted a Whitstable oyster?”

That is the first line of Sarah Water’s novel Tipping the Velvet (a wonderful book!). Yesterday I tasted a Whitstable oyster, the most famous in England. Actually, I tried an oyster for the very first time ever. I’ve never been tempted to try an oyster — they look disgusting. I love shellfish, but oysters? No thanks. However, I was in Whitstable, so I thought it was the perfect time to lose my oyster virginity.

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3 June, 2007 | 2 Comments

Thanks for all of your feedback to my post on daytrips! I now have some great ideas. Below is a roundup of what was recommended, with links to info about each town/region. [If I get more recommendations, I'll add to this post.]

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1 June, 2007 | 9 Comments

Now that it’s June 1st, it’s unofficially summer. [I can't believe it's June 1st already?] I need to make sure I get out of the city once in a while. Coming from Paris, I am reminded that London is just so massive and sprawling. Paris, by comparison, is a quaint little village. While I prefer the quicker pace and excitement of London, it’s a bit of a transition going from a more laid-back lifestyle to such urban intensity.

If anyone has any suggestions for daytrips, please let me know. I mean, besides the obvious ones — Brighton, Oxford, Bath, etc. I’m looking for places not too far away by train. While I am open to all ideas, I’m not necessarily looking for lots of sightseeing. I’m really looking for pleasant places to walk around aimlessly, where there is natural beauty and/or maximum quaintness. I like looking at flowers and trees and the sea and rolling hills. And of course, the sun and the clouds. I’m a big sky junkie.

I prefer to go by train. I don’t have a car (obviously) and I’m not a big fan of buses/coaches. Any and all ideas welcome!

19 April, 2007 | 15 Comments

Okay, this is a mega-rant against Eurostar. You have been warned. I wrote them an e-mail upon my arrival in London, after I had been subjected to one of the worst travel experiences of my life. Today I finally received a response from them, which was a joke. So in light of that, I thought you might enjoy reading this little doozy that I wrote when I was fresh off the train last week and still suffering from post-traumatic shock.

In my post on Friday, I alluded to my horrific send-off from Paris. That was all thanks to Eurostar and Gare du Nord (the train station in Paris). I had heavy luggage, as you know. There were NO trolleys (luggage carts) in the entire station. Apparently, they were all being used, though I didn’t actually see many people pushing them around. My taxi driver walked around the station to try to find me one (yes, I swear he did) and he was very pissed that there were none to be found. So I had to cart my luggage around by myself, which was nearly impossible. And this involved going up and down escalators a couple times all the while being harassed by gypsies begging for money.

None of the Eurostar employees I encountered bothered to help me at all. They didn’t bother to help me find a trolley, they didn’t call a porter to help me — zilch. Not only that, they appeared to have complete contempt for me and all their other passengers. Their attitude was like this: You want to take the train to London? Well, Eurostar is your only option. If you don’t like it, tough.

I really can’t begin to describe what this was like. For example, I was waiting to check-in and my suitcase fell over. A Eurostar employee was standing there with his arms folded, doing nothing (as usual). He was perhaps six inches from me. He saw I couldn’t handle my baggage alone but he just looked at me. It was surreal. Another passenger walked up and he immediately helped me. Isn’t that what normal humans do? I asked several Eurostar employees for help. Most just stared at me, looking right through me as if I were invisible. One guy said he was helping someone else and walked off. Another guy said there was nothing he could do — it was a holiday week because of Easter, the train station was crowded and everyone was busy. Busy? I don’t think I saw one Eurostar employee in Paris actually doing any work. In fact, this is what a classified ad for a Eurostar job could very well look like:

Do you enjoy standing around and doing nothing?

Would you rather spend time chatting with your fellow employees than working?

Have you perfected a look of complete uselessness (facial expressions and body language)?

Are you generally ill-tempered and rude?

Can you look at people who need assistance and completely ignore them, all the while secretly delighting in their pain?

Has anyone ever told you that you might be a psychopath?

Are you an asshole?

If you answered yes to all these questions, Eurostar wants YOU! You have a fabulous career ahead of you in our Paris offices.

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3 February, 2007 | 4 Comments

I wrote a post about Italian men right after I got home but forgot to post it! Oh dear. Well, here it is….

French men are flirtatious, but Italian men leave them in the dust. They just flirt so unashamedly. Once I was standing on a street corner in Florence, waiting for the light to change. This guy walked up next to me, stopped, lit his cigarette and then said, “Hello, dahling.” Then he just walked off. Very impressive. Another time, a teenage boy walked up to me and said, “Hello Miss, what is up?” Very hard not to laugh at that. It was bizarre how many times men on the street would say things to me in English. How on earth did they know that I speak English? I never said anything to them.

I already wrote about my encounters with the lusty receptionist at my hotel in Rome. One night I was sitting in the lobby doing a few e-mails. I was wearing my glasses and had my hair in a ponytail. What’s wrong with that? He begged me to take my hair down and remove my glasses. Actually, he began to remove the elastic from my hair before I’d even answered him. He then proceeded to tell me I was attempting to hide my beauty and that I didn’t want anyone to notice me. He then told me that I was not to come back to the lobby like that again! I normally would have told this guy to mind his own business, but I was sorta stunned at his forwardness. And then I began to wonder if he was right about why I sometimes dress the way I do.

The most colorful encounter I had was with a guy named Antonio. I transcribed my conversation with him because, you know, it was deliciously corny.

…chitchat…

Antonio: “Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you back in England?”

Anglofille: “I’m not English.”

Antonio: “American?”

Anglofille: “Si.”

Antonio: “Oh, I love Americans! They are so much more expensive.”

Anglofille: “Expensive?”

Antonio: “No, uh….expressive.”

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31 January, 2007 | Enter your password to view comments

29 January, 2007 | 5 Comments

Now now, there’s no time for tears…

I had an internet connection while I was in Florence, so I posted a couple things while I was there. But I have a bit more to say. I know, shocking. I want to tell you about a few of my favorite Florentine things…raindrops on roses, marble gods, jewelry.

My Favorite Rear View: Il David

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to feature more male nudity on this blog. To that end, I managed to semi-salvage the photo of David’s glorious tush that I mentioned a while ago:

This is the best I could do. When I took this, I was chatting with an American woman who just kept looking at the sculpture and saying, “He is so hot.” Is it normal to be turned on by a statue? Don’t get me wrong – I love staring at the rear end of a 17-foot man as much as the next gal, but lust? It just seems…wrong.

My Favorite Kitsch: The Hotel Lobby

Do the owners realize how tacky this is? Obviously not. I stayed at the Hotel California – and yes, that song was in my head every time I walked through the door. It’s a fabulous budget hotel located in the center of Florence, right between the Duomo and the Accademia (David). And there’s a free continental breakfast (just called “breakfast” on the Continent?). They give you a plate heaped with croissants and pastries. They just plop it down on the table right in front of you, as if this is some sort of normal breakfast eaten by normal humans on a daily basis.

Heavenly.

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24 January, 2007 | 5 Comments

I think I need to finish up my posts on Italy. I know it’s old news by now and no one probably cares, but it’s the middle of bleakest January and I for one would like to reminisce.

So today, it’s all about food (with lots of photos!). After living in Paris and visiting Italy, I’ve come to the conclusion that food in the English-speaking world tastes like garbage. I’m not even sure why we bother to eat. I’m serious. When world cuisines were handed out centuries ago, we got the shaft. And I blame the English for this culinary disaster, since America didn’t even exist.

While I think French bread and pastry is unparalleled, I much prefer the cuisine in Italy overall. It’s friendlier to my high-maintenance digestive system and isn’t so rich and heavy (plus, it’s a lot healthier). Authentic Italian food is not smothered in globs of melted cheese, unlike what often passes for Italian food outside of Italy. And there are plenty more vegetarian options. Proscuitto is a menace though – good grief, they add it to everything!

So here’s a trip down culinary lane. I desperately miss the food in Italy. Ever since I got back to France, I can’t stop eating sun-dried tomatoes. I crave them constantly.

I found a restaurant in Florence called Lo Scudo that was my favorite. It’s right behind the Duomo. I had the best spaghetti on earth there. If I had the recipe for this, I’d be the most popular gal around:

I can’t even describe how this dish delighted every taste bud in my mouth. So much of the food I ate in Italy did that. While eating you just have to pause and savor it. Eating the food there and taking the time to enjoy it is just as important as visiting a museum or a church. When I traveled in Hong Kong and Thailand, I remember also feeling this way about the eating experience.

Here is bruschetta from Lo Scudo:

No cheese in sight! The toppings included a minced tuna steak that tasted exactly like ground beef. This is something I must try to find the recipe for.

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18 January, 2007 | 4 Comments

In every city I visited in Italy, there was at least one place that for whatever reason was particularly special to me. In Venice, that place was Isola San Michele (the last word pronounced something like mi-KELL-ay). This is an island about 5 minutes by vaporetto from Venice, an island consisting of a church and a huge cemetery – and that’s it. It’s a cemetery island, essentially, surrounded by tall brick walls and filled with cypress trees and countless graves:

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10 January, 2007 | Comments

I haven’t had a chance to write about my trip to Italy since I’ve been back in Paris and I’d like to do so here and there over the next few weeks. I’ve come to the realization that it will take me a month or more to go through all the photos I took, but perhaps this long-term project will keep the January doldrums at bay and help me relive my trip. I’m going to start with Venice and work my way back to Rome.

What stands out the most from my two days in Venice is the cold and fog. While Florence and Rome were tolerably chilly, Venice was freezing. It was that kind of bone-chilling cold that causes you to lose all feeling in your extremities rather quickly. I met many people who were woefully underdressed because they never suspected it would be so cold in Italy. Too bad for them.

And then of course there was the fog. On my first day, Venice was fogged in to such an extent that many of the vaporetti (water buses) weren’t running. Here’s a shot of the famous view looking out from St. Mark’s Square. As you can see, the lagoon and the other islands were completely swallowed up by the fog:

The next day, the fog had lessened considerably:

I had never expected to see a foggy Venice. I’d never even seen pictures of it fogged in or imagined it that way at all, so it was completely unexpected and strange. I met a few professional photographers from Brazil (hello if you’re reading this!) and they weren’t too pleased with the weather. I can understand that. The first thing you notice about Venice is how colorful it is – the buildings are painted bright pink and yellow and red; the water is a lovely shade of green. The fog and lack of sunshine sapped the islands of their rich color. But I wouldn’t trade my experience of Venice. It was wonderfully enchanting in the fog:

It was also a treat to see Christmas lights everywhere:

Walking around at night, I’d sometimes see a Christmas tree glowing in the window of a decaying yet elegant building. A lovely sight.

While in Venice, I did not go to one museum. After traipsing through Rome and Florence, I was museumed out. I skipped the Peggy Guggenheim Collection and the Accademia and the Doge’s Palace. Isn’t that awful? I did visit St. Mark’s Basilica and it’s very startling to see in person:

It doesn’t look like a Christian church at all, but rather something from the Islamic world, a reflection of Venice’s ties to the East.

I skipped the tourist attractions because I just wanted to walk around and see Venice itself, which wasn’t easy given the intense cold. But visiting churches and stopping for tea breaks frequently made it almost tolerable. To me, nothing in any museum could compare to the city itself and that’s what I wanted to experience. From Rick Steves: “[Venice] sits on pilings…millions of tree trunks driven deep into clay. About 25 miles of canals drain the city, dumping like streams into this Grand Canal. It’s a car-free maze of 100 islands — laced together by 400 bridges and a vast web of alleys and canalside walkways.”

Venice is such a wonderfully odd place, so steeped in history and myth and art and literature. It seems to exist just for tourists nowadays, which is probably for the best because it remains a preserved relic, like a living, breathing museum.

Since there are no motor vehicles of any kind allowed on the islands, everyone gets around by boat. There are police boats:

Water taxis:

I saw ambulance boats and even the UPS delivery boat.

Though I visited in the off-season, Venice was packed. The vaporetti were standing-room only and the main paths from the train station to the Rialto Bridge and St. Mark’s Square were filled with bumper-to-bumper foot traffic. However, off the tourist beat, it was deserted:

I read in my guidebook that most tourists in Venice are like sheep and won’t wander off the beaten path. That was certainly true in my experience. And the backstreets of Venice offer hidden delights, like the chance to meet real Venetians and see their laundry drying:

When wandering around, you have no choice but to wander. Maps are basically useless. Venice doesn’t feature traditional streets (how they deliver the mail is beyond me). It’s hilarious to see tourists with maps trying to figure out where they are, on the verge of becoming hysterical. It’s not really possible to get lost in any serious way, however, because you’re on a rather small island. You end up going in circles most of the time and eventually you spot a landmark you recognize. That’s the fun, just getting “lost” (but not really).

In the more touristy areas, it was fun to window shop. There are elaborate masks for sale all over the place:

It’s tempting to buy one, but then you stop and try to think what you’d do with it once you get home. And there is glass for sale everywhere, like these glass flowers and beads:

And lots of tempting culinary delights:

[I have a whole posting on food coming up!]

I crashed at the Hotel Belle Epoque, one of the nicest budget hotels I’ve ever stayed in. I was actually quite shocked at how nice it was, given the price. The view above my bed:

The front desk staff isn’t the friendliest, but then you don’t need to spend much time conversing with them. The hotel offered a free breakfast that included hard-boiled eggs! Yay! [The only protein available in other hotels was yogurt and slices of ham and cheese, all off-limits to yours truly.] The hotel is just a few doors down from the train station, which perhaps isn’t as picturesque as other areas of town (though perfectly fine), but if you’re arriving late or departing early, it’s very convenient. And the train station offers a staffed luggage storage area where I left my laptop with no problems. [When I went to pick up my baggage, I witnessed a near-brawl between a customer and one of the baggage handlers. Oh how I wished I could have understood what they were screaming about! And the hand gestures were flying too, but I didn’t understand those either.]

In my next post I will write about my favorite place in Venice. Until then, here’s a photo of a balloon animal sculpture I spotted while riding down the Grand Canal:

6 January, 2007 | 6 Comments

30 December, 2006 | 7 Comments

[as the Italians call Paris...]

I had the most amazing time in Italy. My trip exceeded all expectations. It was magical. It was perfect. And I must thank the travel gods for looking out for me — I was healthy and safe the whole time. I wasn’t robbed or ripped off or treated in a mean way by anyone. I didn’t lose anything. I didn’t miss a train or a flight. I feel blessed.

I also feel nourished on every level. Literally, of course, because the food was fantastic. I also feel nourished as a human, looking at so much art and history and beauty. The people were fantastic and warm and gracious. I wish I could give Italy a big hug right now. Italia, I missah youah alreadeee!

Before I left Paris, I was soooo burned out. I hadn’t had a real break from my job in a year, I was sick and tired of studying French every single day for hours and I was coming off three and a half very exhilarating but difficult months. Add Christmas while being far from home and a birthday on top of that and you’ve got yourself a real angst-fest. I can’t remember the last time I felt so fried. The first two days of my trip, I had fun but still felt tense. I couldn’t relax. I began to worry that I’d lost the ability to ever really and truly relax at all. But then something happened. I switched off. I lost myself. I stopped thinking about home and stress and just let Italy wash over me. I entered this sort of euphoric traveler’s state, where all that matters each day is what you’re going to eat and what amazing sights you’re going to see and who you might meet. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been gone for at least a month — the fact that my trip was only 8 days long is unbelievable to me.

I highly recommend Italy in the winter. As I’ve written before, I visited Italy once before during peak season about ten years ago and had a miserable time. It was hot and mobbed and overwhelming. Italy in the winter is a much different place. There are fewer crowds, the locals are more relaxed and friendly because they aren’t being barraged with pushy foreigners and the cold was typically more bearable than being outside in the sun and heat all day (at least for me — I’m very sensitive to heat). The prices were also much lower. Of course, there are trade-offs — reduced hours for many sights, reduced daylight hours (which does force you to be more organized with your time), etc. But seeing Italy at Christmastime was particularly lovely and special.

I feel completely refreshed now as the year ends and we await 2007, which is just what I was hoping for when I booked this trip at the last minute (with so many of you encouraging me!). Sometimes you need to get away from home — even if “home” is a place like Paris. [BTW, the first time someone in Italy asked me where I live, I had no idea. My mind went blank. I ran through a list of cities in my mind before remembering, oh yeah, most of my clothes and books are parked in Paris right now. I guess, sadly, that I don't think of Paris as my home. I think it was good for me to get away from Paris too -- I think I'll appreciate it more now.]

Despite having such a great time, I was ready to come “home.” Eight days of intense, non-stop cultural and culinary stimulation is about the limit for me, I think. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. This week, I plan to write in more detail about my trip and try to organize all the photos I took. My Italian journey was one I’ll never forget. It has a place in my heart.

26 December, 2006 | 3 Comments

Photography is banned inside the Accademia, so I had to sneak photos when the guard wasn’t looking. If they really don’t want people to take photos, they need to think of a more threatening deterrent than having a 5′2″ lady screaming “No photos!” every five minutes. Ooooh, I’m shivering. I managed to get a photo of David’s backside, but it’s not a good photo. I’m not sure if I can salvage it, but his tush is so glorious I’ll keep trying…

26 December, 2006 | Comments

I had an interesting Christmas Eve in Rome. At one point I got lost trying to find my hotel, which was very strange because I have a good sense of direction. So I asked this guy sitting on a vespa to help me, then ended up chatting with him for quite some time. He was so cute! Why don’t I live in Rome? Sigh. I had dinner at a ristorante with a few Australian backpacker types who were staying at my hotel. They decided to skip going to St. Peter’s (our hotel was about a 15-minute walk from the Vatican) but I was rather curious. I didn’t have a ticket to go inside St. Peter’s Basilica, but there was a large crowd of people in St. Peter’s Square watching the mass on giant TV screens. I’m not Catholic and I don’t know Latin or Italian, so I had no clue what was being said in the mass. (However, hearing Jesus referred to as a bambino and Mary and Joseph as Maria and Giuseppe made me laugh.) But it was really a magical night because of the festive atmosphere and the surreal factor of standing outside St. Peter’s on Christmas, staring at Michelangelo’s dome and standing in the place being watched by millions of Christians around the world.

The photos I have posted do not in any way convey what it looked like in person. The Basilica is lit at night in such a way that it appears to glow. And the Christmas tree and nativity scene (called a presepio in Italian) were so lovely and grand. There’s a long avenue that leads up to St. Peter’s and walking that half mile or so with this sight in front of my eyes is something I will never ever ever forget for as long as I live. When I first saw it I exclaimed “Ohhhh!” It just came right out of my mouth.

Around 2:00 a.m. the mass was still ongoing, but I was froze solid and needed to head back to the hotel, where the receptionist greeted me with a big slice of panettone. I took one video and another video, if you’re curious. And here’s a video of “It’s a Wonderful Life” playing on my hotel TV. I really don’t know why I filmed this. I guess I was so excited to see it on Christmas, even if it was in Italian. Christmas isn’t the same without it!

25 December, 2006 | 2 Comments

On this luminous Christmas Day, the glorious Duomo of Santa Maria del Fiore…one block from my hotel in the historic center of Florence. Go ahead and hate me, it’s okay.

This afternoon I took the train up from Rome. It was mobbed with people:

This was my Christmas lunch, a panini and bottled water from the train snack bar:

Don’t feel bad for me, this was delicious. Seriously.

I walked around Florence late this afternoon and this evening. It’s thick with tourists, but there weren’t many townspeople in sight — it was as if they’d been abducted and all that remained were hordes of visitors carrying digital cameras and guidebooks. It was like stepping into a terra-cotta horror movie. Creepy. As I was strolling around aimlessly, I glimpsed the sun setting over the rooftops and began to chase after it — a Florence sunset! On Christmas! I must say, it was worth the effort:

After this, I ate some minestrone soup to warm me up, the perfect ending to a bizarre and lovely Christmas. Since I can’t be at home, I’ll settle for this. Yup.