Traveling Girl With a Glass

This was the view from the plane as we landed in Singapore yesterday …. the port is essentially the world’s staging area for shipping, those are all cargo ships. I find that hard to wrap my brain around (in addition to the fact that it’s tomorrow here) – goods bound for countries all over the world are waiting in containers stacked on HUGE ships here in these waters, pending delivery to the rest of the globe.

That sort of sets up the vibe here. Singaporeans have a quiet confidence about them… they are fiercely proud of their country and they seem to have a grounded knowledge of how important it is. They are also uniformly welcoming and friendly and… I’m struggling for the right word here… maybe caring? They seem almost unusually concerned about tourists and truly want to make sure you are safe and happy here.

I’ll give you an example that put a big smile on my face yesterday. In all my travels, this has never happened, and it happened twice my first day here. Upon sitting down at the bar on the rooftop at Marina Bay Sands for an early evening drink, I was offered a newspaper. “In case you might be bored”, said the smiling hostess, who then sent a colleague over to chat with me for a few minutes and see if I had any questions or if she could help me with anything. Then again at dinner, at the bar at Waku Ghin, a Michelin started Asian-fusion restaurant in the MBS complex. Along with my beautiful first course and wine came two magazines. In case I might be bored. I thought that gesture was so sweet and charming, all the more so because I already had something to read and didn’t need it.

And really. With this view? How could I be bored.

I’m feeling so engulfed by this city and so curious to see more that I’m about to forget to tell you about the flight. Singapore airlines totally lives up to the hype, and the flight was as much of a pleasure as an 18 hour flight could possibly be. If you ever find yourself wondering if business class on an Asian or middle-eastern airline is worth it, trust me, it is. Between the comfy bed and using Timeshifter (that app I wrote about in the last post), I’m shockingly un-jet-lagged on my second day here.

An interesting little side note about the flight attendants – I chatted with the flight manager for a bit (I think I was the only passenger still up), and she filled me in on their absolutely gorgeous uniforms. The colors are representative of their rank: green and blue are younger, newer, lower ranking attendants (I forget in what order), Red is a step up, and purple is the flight manager. They were designed by Pierre Cardin 50 years ago and haven’t changed since. I took a photo of these two ladies at the gate before we left LAX:

So back to Singapore.

I arrived at my hotel around 9 am, and thank heavens had thought ahead to make a spa reservation since my room wouldn’t be ready until after noon. So I had myself a little steam, a massage, and lunch and a glass of wine by the pool, then voila! Room was ready. I unpacked, showered, and decided to head to Chinatown. I’m so glad I went there first – it’s such a cool juxtaposition of old and new, temples in the foreground and skyscrapers in the background everywhere you look.

I wandered around in the sweltering heat and humidity for a couple of hours, then took a break for a truly terrifyingly painful foot massage. I’m getting braver as I travel more, and more willing to seek out the more authentic, the local spots. Easy to be brave, I might add, in a city as safe as Singapore. So I wandered down a side street, up a super sketchy staircase, and found myself in a foot reflexology place and in the capable hands of a tiny and freakishly strong woman who turned my feet to mush. It was awesome.

The subway system is ridiculously clean and easy to use, and this sign made me laugh:

First, a snack gets you a $500 fine? Second, durian fruit is so popular here that they have to ban it. Durian is the foulest smelling thing you can imagine… I had been told about it, but had never actually smelled it until I ran across this stall in Chinatown. I could smell them ten feet away:

It took me until the walk back to the hotel later after dinner to figure out what else is different about Singapore. It’s super clean, yes, but more than that….it’s almost eerily quiet. No horns, no sirens. For a city this size, and to someone from the US expecting the noise level of, say, New York, it’s weird. And nice.

I’m finishing this post on Friday afternoon, after an amazing lunch that I’ll tell you about tomorrow. I’m off to have dinner at a hawker center – that’s what the big street food centers are called – with a friend of a friend. Told you, everyone is about one or two degrees removed from this place somehow.

Not bored, 😊

Traveling Girl

Mark Twain. The pre-Anthony Bourdain travel evangelist.

Not only do I subscribe to the above, I find I need regular doses of travel. It’s like a part of my well-being and mental and spiritual upkeep.

So I’m getting itchy to go somewhere again… it’s been four months since NYC, after all. In that time I’ve managed to be sick for the better part of a month (good lord there are some nasty viruses going around this winter – take your vitamins), adopt a puppy, host my family for Christmas, and get foot surgery.

The puppy was especially big news. I lost my pug, Jake, a little over two years ago, and it was finally time to have another furry little sidekick. Meet Traveling Pug, a.k.a. Frank:

That’s seriously how he looks all the time. That expression. It’s as if he’s saying “where we going next?” every time he looks at me.

The foot is healing nicely and while I am now ridiculously out of shape for someone who ran a marathon a few measly months ago, I think I’m in decent enough condition to head to the other side of the planet on Tuesday and walk nonstop for a couple of weeks . Frank will not be joining this time, but he’s cool with that since I promised he gets to hang with his friends while I’m gone.

I’m heading to Singapore and Bali this time, and I am SO excited to experience these two amazing places…. the food, the culture, the architecture… I’m intrigued by it all. This trip came about in random fashion… just as I was wondering where I should go this year, some friends and fellow Hoffman (the personal development retreat I went to a little over a year ago in CA) grads invited me to come along to a Hoffman refresher weekend they are attending in Bali.

A weekend in Bali. Why not?

You connect through Singapore to get there, and obviously you don’t go to the other side of the world for three days, so this trip took shape quickly and I was instantly excited about it.

And I hadn’t even watched Crazy Rich Asians yet. Now I’m REALLY excited.

So I leave Tuesday, flying out of LAX direct to Singapore on an 18 hour Singapore Airlines flight. I used points to get myself into business class, and I’m honestly looking forward to the flight in the way that only a travel nerd could look forward to 18 hours confined to a small space. On one of the world’s best airlines, though… come on! It’ll be fun.

I’ve read reviews of the flight, gotten online and booked extra menu items (Singapore Airlines lets you do this – it’s called “Book the Cook”, and gives you all sort of regional speciality choices), and downloaded the whole first season of Jack Ryan.

On a friend’s recommendation, I’m also using an app called Timeshifter to try to get ahead of the jet lag. It gives you a schedule starting three days before your departure, telling you when to sleep, when to have caffeine, when to make sure you expose yourself to light, and when not to. It’s a pretty slick app, and I’m so curious to see if it works. I’m wearing sunglasses as I type this… no light allows until 10 am today. I’ll report back to you on how effective it is.

I’ll be in a Singapore at the Ritz Carlton (thank you, Amex Points) for four days and Bali at the Four Seasons Sayan in Ubud for a week.

Here’s a funny thing about Singapore: you know someone who has either lived there at some point or been there recently. I promise you do. Once I decided to go and let a few folks know, all of a sudden it turned out a college friend lived there for a few years, a good friend in Denver has a good friend who lives there now, and at least four or five people I would have never guessed have been there and had recommendations for me. I just love what a small world it is.

So I now have some fabulous restaurant reservations in both places, great activities booked, and my fingers crossed that the current weather forecast of rain the entire time I’m there changes. But it if doesn’t, whatevs. It’ll still be great.

More from Singapore in a few days….

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

Here’s what I mean by my title…. it was a totally amazing and fabulous and stupendously fun weekend, but as anyone who has run any sort of race, from a neighborhood 5k to a marathon, knows, when the people running in costumes start to pass you, you’re in trouble.

So when Superman and a gal in a tutu blew past me at mile 18, I had to question my race strategy.

But allow me to back up, give you some context, and tell you about the trip. SO many things went right last weekend that it’s really almost unbelievable. No flight delays, gorgeous weather on race day, and Traveling Sister and I both showed up in New York healthy, uninjured, and excited to run on Sunday. We had six friends in town with us, great dinner reservations, and tickets to Hamilton. I mean, really. Pinch me.

We were all at different hotels – Traveling Sister and I stayed at the Park Hyatt on 57th, which I would actually not recommend. I paid for it with points, so I wasn’t about to start complaining, but for a hotel that charges what it does, and has the reputation that it does, it fell way short. It’s gorgeous, but the tub in our room didn’t work, the phones didn’t work, and it’s noisy, even by NY standards.

What I loved there, though, were the people. The staff was unfailingly friendly and helpful, and the bartenders were entertaining and extremely knowledgeable. Even if they did let me order a $75 glass of champagne (ok, four. But two were for Traveling Sister) without notifying me of the price. I must have sounded just a bit too much like I knew what I was doing. Occupational hazard.

But hey, we were in New York and we’re only going to do this race once. And it was damn good champagne 😃

Dinner Friday night was at a fabulous Greek restaurant called Avra, which was even better than my other favorite Greek place in New York, Milos. We had amazing seafood, great Greek wine, and it was a loud, fun, terrific dinner for the eight of us.

Saturday everyone went their separate ways – Traveling Sister and I went to the race expo to pick up our packets, and then had tickets to Hamilton for the matinee. As you know, I saw it in Chicago, but TS had not seen it, and there’s nothing quite like seeing a play on Broadway, is there. It was FABULOUS. Dinner Saturday night was pre-race carbs via sushi at Nobu 57. Then we were off to bed early for our 4 a.m. wake up for the race.

We set three alarms. All unnecessary as I woke up at 3 a.m. anyway.

So here’s the deal with the NYC marathon that’s totally different from any other I’ve ever run or even heard of: they have to get everyone over to Staten Island before the first racers start, and they have to start everyone in waves because 50,000 people run this thing. So that means we were on the Staten Island Ferry at 5:45 but our wave didn’t start until 10:40. It’s a brutal way to start a race, but honestly the ferry ride at sunrise might have been my favorite part.

As an aside, the security for this event was something to behold. There were police and Coast Guard boats around the ferry, bomb sniffing dogs patrolling the start area where we waited, NYPD everywhere, and apparently divers under the bridges and two thousand snipers on rooftops around the city. It’s a shame that that sort of massive presence is necessary, but New York does not mess around with its security and it was comforting.

So we arrived on Staten Island and we waited. For almost four hours.

The weather was chilly, but thank heavens it wasn’t raining. Which it did every other day we were there. Sunday was literally the only sunny day. Can you imagine if we had had to wait that long in the rain?? I know people who have done it, and I’m thrilled not to be one of them.

So we bundled up in old clothes (you toss them in Goodwill bins when your wave is called), brought an old blanket to sit on, snacks to eat, and we waited. Everyone walking around in mismatched old clothes, sweats, bathrobes and the occasional costume has the effect of making the whole place look like a tent city full of crazy people. So you make friends, chat up some of the other crazy people, and the time really does fly by.

When they call your wave, you then walk about a mile to the foot of the Verrazano-Narrows bridge, they blast “New York, New York”, everyone sings along, and you start off at a slow jog as the crowd starts to push on to the bridge. I’m sure it’s a much speedier start in earlier waves, but the 10:40 a.m. wave was a relatively chill group… people filming the start, stopping on the bridge to take photos… it was funny.

I love the signs people hold up at marathons, and I think it’s fun to look for funny ones. The first sign I saw coming off the bridge read “YO! Welcome to Brooklyn”. Much friendlier than the old guy standing on a corner in the Bronx about 20 miles later yelling “Get the hell outta the Bronx! Go back to Manhattan where you came from!” (He was kidding. I think.)

In Brooklyn we were treated to a tour of some great little neighborhoods, lots of music, super fun crowds (lots of drunk brunchers, they were hilarious), and a full on gospel choir at Emmanuel Baptist Church. Brooklyn is also where is made my fatal strategy mistake. I let adrenaline and ego take over and I left TS at mile 7 and took off, trying to make my goal of breaking four hours. But I’ll get back to that in a minute. I was good for another 11 miles.

I’ll tell you what. There are maybe few things on earth as exciting as coming off the Queensboro bridge into Manhattan at mile 16 of this race. The bridge is long, quiet, and lonely, and then as you approach the bottom you start to hear this ROAR… you round the corner, and there is just this wall of people screaming and cheering and it makes you feel like you are possibly the coolest, fastest, best runner ever.

I want to hold on to that feeling for the rest of my life. The pain of that race was totally absolutely completely worth it just for that moment.

I saw two of my friends at mile 17, jumped up and down and waved at them, and then promptly started to cramp at mile 18 because I had been going too fast (for me, anyway. I am not, as a rule, fast. So I knew better. Sigh.) and didn’t drink enough water. I’ll spare you all the details as it’s not really all that interesting, but suffice it to say the thanks to my ego, the last 8 miles were pretty damn slow. Which is how I got passed by Superman and tutu girl.

BUT. Seriously, who cares. Don’t get me wrong, I cared a lot in the moment, and when I figured out that I wasn’t even going to break FIVE hours, I had a full on pity party for a few minutes.

I might have cried.

But then I looked around at the blind runners (there were actually a lot of them with guides at this race), the people running in memory of someone, the older runners who were clearly in way more pain than me and f-ing doing it anyway…. and I remembered to be grateful. How amazing to get to do this AT ALL. To be healthy, to be able to afford to come, to be protected by thousands of police and public service people while we ran, to have friends there cheering us on. I mean really, who the hell did I think I was crying about my pace.

Plus, you know, there’d be wine at the end either way. 🍷

All I had to do was finish.

I saw more friends at mile 20, somehow missed the crew at 24, and finished in just over five hours. And Traveling Sister, younger and wiser with her race strategy, finished cramp-free just a few minutes behind me.

It was starting to get dark and cold by the time I wound my way through the park to get my poncho and meet our friends, so they all immediately wrapped their scarves around me ❤️.

We had our celebratory dinner at Dirty French, an outstanding French restaurant recommended by several foodie friends, and it was just awesome. Lots of food, lots of wine, leg cramps gone, and surrounded by 7 of my favorite people on earth. And did I mention it was also my birthday? Seriously, it was. What a gift that day was. I went to bed so overwhelmingly happy I could have just hugged everyone in New York.

Monday most of the crew left, and TS and I slept in and then made our way south to have lunch at a terrific all-organic, super yummy little cafe called Two Hands. Then we went and got foot massages in Chinatown – I highly recommend this for anyone that runs the NYC marathon. Great call to do that. We rounded it all out with a great dinner and live music at Red Rooster in Harlem. Do yourself a favor and get your ass to that restaurant next time you are in New York, it was such a treat.

On the plane on the way home now. Holy cow what a trip. I’ve never felt so good and then so bad and frustrated and then elated and grateful and just heart-bursting inspired in such a short period of time.

My favorite sign I saw?

“26.2 miles. Because 26.3 would be crazy”. HA!

Thank you, Traveling Sister, for taking me up on the idea to do this.

Thank you, amazing friends, for being there with us and giving us one of the best weekends of our lives.

Wishing you an open heart to take in all the love that’s around you all the time, even when you don’t hear cheering fans. Imagine that the ROAR is just around the corner.

Until next time…. cheers!

Traveling Girl

Sigh.

Like all good adventures, summer flew by and I’m not sure where it went. I feel like I was in Amsterdam yesterday, and yet I went hiking in the mountains this weekend and then leaves are already turning.

BUT. Fall is absolutely my favorite season – crisp air, bright leaves, warm sweaters…. maybe from my years of living in the south, where summer can lull you into a humidity induced trance, I feel like I perk up in the fall. I feel more alive, more alert… it’s as if suddenly we can all breathe deeper.

Plus my birthday is in the fall, so maybe a love of this season has been ingrained since cupcakes in third grade, who knows.

A parallel plot line for Traveling Girl this summer has been preparing for this year’s birthday – I’ll be running the NYC marathon with my sister. Meet Traveling Sister:

It’s worth noting that while I simply lucked out and got my name pulled out of a hat for my entry, my far more noble (and younger and taller and faster…but I digress) sister is running to raise money for a very cool charity called Team For Kids. If you’d like to donate to the effort, the link, which will also tell you more about the amazing programs this organization creates for kids, is HERE. If for some reason my hyperlink skills are rusty and that didn’t work, it’s http://www.runwithtfk.org, click “donate”, “search member”, “Charlotte Coleman”. On younger and taller and faster and more noble Traveling Sister’s behalf, thank you!

About running….

Running is a multi-faceted thing, and it fills for me that space that everyone has that calls out for something to flow into. It could be hiking, painting, cooking, gardening, whatever…for me it’s running. It’s calming, energizing, level-setting and mind-clearing. Most of all it makes me feel strong. Strong enough to handle the curve balls that I never seem to see coming. Strong enough to sit with discomfort and pain and know that if I just keep doing my best, tomorrow will be better. Strong enough to know when to push harder and when to rest.

So that last one’s a perpetual quandary, isn’t it. Give me a few more pages and I can link that single struggle to nearly anything. When should we push harder? When should we back off, give our bodies and our minds and our love and our energy a little space? Push too hard and you end up with bronchitis in the middle of the summer (check). Rest too much and you won’t meet your goal. Know what I’ve learned? Pushing too hard is easy. It’s the backing off that takes skill and heart and strength.

I saw a great quote this morning that reminded me of that delicate balance: “I used to say ‘if you will take care of me, I will take care of you’. Now I say, ‘I will take care of me for you, if you take care of you for me'”. Can I get an amen.

So. So far so good, six weeks out. I’ll leave for NYC on November 2, and the race is on November 4. I couldn’t be more excited to be part of such a huge and extremely cool event, and I even have some amazing friends who are making the trip to come cheer us on.

Wishing you the skill and heart and strength to make space when you need space and rest when you need rest.

More from the Big Apple….

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

This trip felt like it went by in about ten minutes… isn’t that always the way with vacations.

Last we chatted, I was heading to dinner with some friends who happened to be in London, and what a treat it was to have company for the evening! We met for drinks at One Aldwych and then walked to Hakkasan, which was was absolutely terrific. Tucked back in an alley and underground, all dim blue lighting and a sort of funky soft house music… I felt like I was entering the Matrix when we walked down the stairs. The kind of place that makes you wish you had packed something leather to wear.

We all shared plates – vegetable lettuce wraps (sounds totally boring I know, but they were absolutely delicious), steamed sea bass, and fried rice were favorites. I honestly didn’t think Chinese food could be so good. And all paired with a great rosé. Thanks, friends, for joining me! Traveling alone can get, well, lonely sometimes, and our dinner was such fun and felt like a big hug.

A note about that. There are a few things I’ve realized on my solo trips that are worth mentioning, for anyone who is considering it (and I absolutely think you should):

1. When you’re traveling alone, you end up moving at a faster pace without even realizing it, mostly because you’re not stopping to discuss or make decisions with anyone else. This means you will have walked 15 miles and be dead on your feet by 3:00 pm every day if you don’t take extra breaks. Yes, I know sitting and having a cup of coffee or tea or glass of wine alone feels awkward. Do it anyway. Or take a short 30 minute nap – I did that nearly every day on this trip. And had the coffee and glass of wine too 😊

2. Take every opportunity for connection with people that is presented to you. Go out of your way to visit or meet up with friends, sit at a bar instead of a table when you can, chat with the people sitting next to you. You’ll have plenty of alone time, don’t worry about that. You’re used to guarding your alone time in your life at home – you need to do the opposite on the road. Sometimes it takes me a day or two to remember to flip that switch.

3. Be prepared to change plans, skip things, add things in, and give yourself little creature comforts. Do not force march yourself through a guidebook. I always have a very detailed itinerary going into a trip, about half of which I will end up changing (either by choice or by screwup, haha).

About number 3. Yesterday is a great example. Having stayed out really late with my friends, I slept in a little, but still decided to go on my planned run through Green Park and Hyde Park. I’m so glad I did! I ran by Buckingham Palace, Kensington Palace, and I didn’t even realize there was a Christo installation in Hyde Park until I rounded a corner and saw it. I mean, wow:

It’s really hot in London right now, and I ran a little further than I meant to. I…. might have take a cab back to the hotel. Yep, that might have happened.

I was completely beat when I got back, but running is such a great way to see a city, I’m still glad I did it. I decided not to decide on the rest of the day until I could cool off and have lunch, so I showered and took myself to a little wine bar that Justin at Tavernetta in Denver recommended, Compagnie Des Vins Surnaturels:

It was so lovely – all pretty little French dishes in a gorgeous, hidden, sun-dappled little courtyard that I would have never found without the recommendation and a lot of walking in circles and peering into alleyways.

Well then, of course, I wanted to try Justin’s other recommendation, so my early afternoon turned into a wine bar tour of the West End. Noble Rot was just as much of a treat:

Thankfully I’ve done all the London must-dos before, so I didn’t feel badly about spending extra time resting my tired legs in the shade with some wine instead of walking back by the Tower of London and the bridge and all that. Plus, I have a feeling I’ll be back in London….

Dinner was another fabulous one, and actually at the hotel: Eneko, owned by the same chef who owns Azurmendi, my favorite restaurant in the Basque region of Spain. I LOVE Basque food and wine, and Eneko did not disappoint. Potato omelette, rice with clams, braised pork cheeks, and charred broccoli, all delicious, and I was so excited to eat that I didn’t take a photo of any of it 😂

I was lucky enough to get one ticket a few weeks ago to the play Kinky Boots, so that topped off my night. It’s a super cute and fun and happy play, definitely recommend it.

So now I’m home, and thinking about how nice it would be if I built some of that same flexibility into my “real” life. Not that I’ll be spending my afternoons in wine bars (much), but calling an audible here and there might do me good.

Wishing you a summer full of adventure and flexibility –

Until next time…

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

I’ve now gotten that advice several times. First in Amsterdam, while biking, and then walking in London. The gist, as I understand it, is this: understand the rules, look both ways, and then just go… the system works if you let it… quit being timid and hesitating and gumming up the works and making everyone around you look out for you.

It’s sort of like skiing – the more confident you are and the more you just lean into it, the easier it actually is. Or sort of like life, don’t you think?

I arrived in London late yesterday afternoon, my flight from Amsterdam delayed. A couple of notes of things I should have known (or at least looked up ahead of time, for Pete’s sake):

1. Gatwick airport is not actually all that close to London. Half of you probably knew this and I feel like I should have….Thank goodness for the nice man next to me on the plane who warned me off of a taxi (£100 and at least an hour) and pointed me to the train (£12 and 30 minutes).

2. The train system and the Tube are super easy once you know where you’re going and which line to take. Had I taken 2 minutes ahead of time to download the London Underground app on my phone, I could have saved myself a few flustered moments in the station.

But all’s well that ends well. I had 10 minutes when I got to my hotel, the lovely One Aldwych in SoHo, to freshen up before I needed to head out to grab a bite to eat before the show at Ronnie Scott’s jazz club . I went ahead and got myself over to the area of the club and found a terrific, very authentic Peruvian ceviche bar right across the street (one should not, in general, plan on eating in jazz clubs, though I will say the food at Ronnie Scott’s didn’t look half bad). I had a glass of rosé champagne and toasted my arrival London 🍾

The show at Ronnie’s was Keyon Harrold, an American trumpet player. He’s no Chris Botti (but he’s 20 years younger and really… who is), but he’s creative and energetic, it was a fun show, and the venue is fabulous. I highly recommend it if you are in London and enjoy jazz.

This morning I walked to Kings Cross station to catch a train to Welwyn to meet up with some old friends for lunch. While in Kings Cross station, of course, I had to go by platform 9 3/4. It’s hysterical and really cute to watch all the kids pretend to crash themselves into the wall for photos.

On to Welwyn…..I met Tony and Carole on a hiking trip in Peru 3 years ago, and they are such a treat. Tony retired at 59 (they are in their seventies now, and in terrific shape…. just like my parents, who even have a few years on them) and they have traveled the world. Tony told me today he has a philosophy: that life shows you two doors. 1) Come over here and sit down, or 2) Get off your backside and let’s go. So you can see why we’re friends. I want to be them when I grow up 😊. Carole made lunch and Tony made stiff gin and tonics, and visiting with them made my day.

I hopped back on the train to London pretty quickly in order to meet up with friends here who happen to be in town, but our meet up time has been delayed a bit…. so I’m now sitting at Brown’s Hotel having what, as far as I can tell, is the only healthy afternoon tea spread in London. They traditionally consist entirely of gluten and dairy, which leaves me with just the caffeine and the alcohol… not that I am necessarily opposed to that, but a little sustenance would be nice. Enter the “Tea-tox” at Brown’s: tea and champagne with fruit, little gluten free sandwiches, and other loveliness.

My friends and I are going to a Michelin star Chinese restaurant for dinner – I’m intrigued! It’s called Hakkasan, and I’ve heard it’s amazing. Or, as a woman I met at the jazz club said last night, “oh it’s very swish“.

Looking forward to another outstanding evening in London. Let’s all endeavor to be more like Amsterdammers, Londoners, and Tony and Carole…. don’t hesitate, just go. Door number two looks very swish to me.

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

Dear readers:

Something(s) you should probably know about me as caveats before taking my travel advice:

1. I have a truly terrible, completely faulty sense of direction.

2. I inexplicably mix up dates. I have no idea why…I double check things and it still seems to happen.

3. I can’t do math in my head (if you happen to be a client reading this, please pretend I did not just admit that. I swear am a whiz with an HP-12c 🙂)

It’s really amazing, given the above, that my travels have been as successful as they have been and that I’ve managed to see as much as I’ve seen. As you might imagine, numbers 2 and 3 above have over the years led to quite a bit of wasted time and money. So it shouldn’t have surprised me when the nice man at the bike tour company didn’t have my name…. and it turned out that I booked my countryside bike tour for last Tuesday.

What’s surprising, flaky as I have been on this trip, is that I haven’t walked into a canal or gotten hit by a tram. So I decided to take the latter as a win and just wing my day.

I usually take decent pains not to look like a tourist, and by the number of times I’ve been asked for directions or recommendations in foreign countries, I’d say I mostly succeed. I’m sure my basic European-mutt heritage helps…. I tend to blend in almost anywhere. So imagine yours truly walking through the red light district, middle of the day, iPhone in one hand for directions, “Rick Steve’s Pocket Amsterdam” in the other. I’m so embarrassed I’m ordering a glass of wine right now to dull the sting of that image.

BUT. I took a great walking tour of the city (thanks, Rick!), it was another gorgeous day, and I ended up back in the museum district in time to go to both the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh museum. Both were outrageously crowded. As you know, I’m not a huge plaque-reader/museum-goer, and I also hate crowds. I don’t mind crowds where they’re supposed to be (concerts, train stations), just not where they don’t belong (grocery stores, museums). I literally turned around and walked out of the Rijksmuseum when confronted with crowds of screaming children, and I’ll admit I blew through the Van Gogh museum pretty quickly.

You know what, I’m on vacation. And on vacation, you should do the the things you want to do, not the things the guide book says you must.

THEN. Then I found the Moco Museum, a modern art museum in an old house just around the corner, currently exhibiting Banksy and Icy and Sot, all street artists. What a cool exhibit! And not crowded at all. I just loved it. Banksy, the famous British street artist, I knew. Icy and Sot were new to me – they are Iranian brothers who have been banned for life from Iran for their controversial art.

Here are some of my favorites from Banksy:

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And Icy and Sot:

Tomorrow I’m going to visit (and hopefully climb) the Westertoren Tower and wander the Jordaan neighborhood before I fly out to London. Just confirmed today that I’ll get to see two of my Hoffman friends there! Couldn’t be happier that it worked out.

I’m having oysters again as I write this…. they’re just SO GOOD… and heading to dinner shortly. Dinner tonight is at 212 Amsterdam, a “no table” restaurant. Meaning it’s all one big bar. Could there be anything better for a party of one? I think not.

Wishing you a sense of direction and a grasp of dates better than mine –

Cheers!

TG

Raise your hand if you’ve done this: you’re in the Caribbean, or somewhere where diving is popular, the person you are with is certified and wants to go diving, so you acquiesce and take the quickie swimming-pool dive course. How hard can it be, you figure. Next thing you know you are underwater freaking out and fervently wishing you had paid more attention to the dude in the pool.

Anyone? No?

Well imagine it anyway for me, then.

This is what taking a city bike tour in Amsterdam is like. In the best way – clearly, I survived it – but bike culture and road rules here are really something else. Just knowing how to ride a bike doesn’t cut it. There’s even a “bell language”. As explained by our guide:

One ring: hello, I’m here, excuse me

Two rings: get out of my way

Three rings: die and burn in hell, you idiot tourist

His words.

The Dutch, I have found, are not subtle. They will tell you very quickly what they think. About pretty much everything. They are also hysterically funny, friendly, and cheerful. Except for the octogenarian carrying groceries on her bike that gave me a crash course in cursing in Dutch while ringing her bell furiously at me when I cut her off. What do you imagine eight rings means? Oh, and no one wears helmets.

Cocktail trivia for you: the Dutch are now officially the tallest people in the world, there are a staggering number of Teslas here, bikes nearly outnumber people, and I haven’t smelled pot nearly as much as I do on an average day in Denver.

The city is gorgeous, and the weather this week is unusually beautiful – 80 and sunny every day I’m here. Add in the outstanding wine list at the little cafe at which I am currently sitting having a glass of wine and oysters (Brut de Mer in the Pipe) …. I just might not come home.

To catch you up, I arrived yesterday to my hotel around noon, a fabulous recommendation from a very well-traveled friend. It’s called The Conservatorium, and is an old bank-turned-music school-turned-hotel. The lobby is gorgeous, the rooms are lovely, and the breakfast is delicious, but my favorite thing might be the violin chandelier:

My room wasn’t ready, which was probably good…kept me from napping…so I walked to have lunch at Ron Gastrobar. I love the story of this place – the chef GAVE BACK his two Michelin stars in order to turn his restaurant into a more casual place where his friends would come eat with him. The food was outstanding – I had barbecued sea bass, roasted cauliflower with brown butter, and truffle fries. And a glass of wine, of course… (or maybe two)

After a late and long lunch, I wasn’t super hungry for dinner, so I had oysters (oysters here are fabulous) at the brasserie in the hotel.

A side note on food: given that I’m in a city that for hundreds of years has thrived on bread and cheese, and I generally don’t eat either one, I was a little concerned about enjoying the restaurants. Was I ever wrong. Chefs from all over the world have descended on Amsterdam, so while Dutch cuisine might not be super exciting, the food scene in the city is – I’ve absolutely loved every meal so far.

After my little snack, I headed to Boom Chicago, a comedy club that has been in Amsterdam for 25 years and launched the likes of Seth Myers and Jordan Peel, among others. They do a “Sunday Night Live” improv show that is hilarious. I sat next to their intern, an American, a sophomore at DePaul, and she helped me drink a bottle of cheap Hungarian Pinot Blanc (surprisingly tasty) while we laughed….one of those awesome times when you’re afraid to take a sip because you might spit it out laughing in the next second.

Now I’m off to dinner at Cafe Caron, which promises to be fabulous…I’ll let you know. Tomorrow I’m planning to run in Vondelpark in the morning, and then I have…wait for it…. another bike tour. This one’s out into the countryside, though. A girl’s gotta see some windmills and wooden shoes, after all…

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

a.k.a Why I Like Airports

Blaise Pascal, 17th-century French mathematician, physicist, inventor, writer, and philosopher, wrote:

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known

The word “liminal” comes from the Latin root, limen, which means “threshold.” The liminal space is the “crossing over” space – a space where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It’s a transition space.

I first encountered this concept not in a religion class in college (looking this up online, most sites that discuss it are theological, and it is used a lot in describing religious rituals), but listening to a podcast on a run a couple years ago. The author (and, as it were, pastor) Rob Bell was discussing liminal space and making the point that, while it’s tempting to rush through it as quickly as possible and get on to the next “known” thing, if we can relax and be patient, there is magic in these in-between spaces.

I had just gone through a particularly difficult breakup, and was not at all enjoying the awkward and lonely “space” that I found myself in.

There’s magic in this?, I thought….Seems unlikely. Doesn’t feel real magical right now.

But in hindsight, it was. It really was. I’ll spare you the whole story, but suffice it to say I didn’t rush into the next relationship. (Still haven’t, but we’ll talk about that another time). I used that in-between time to strengthen my relationships with my friends and family and to start traveling more. I would absolutely not be the adventurous traveler that I am now had I not embraced that uncomfortable unknown space and been open to what I could learn from it.

During another liminal space after my divorce many years ago, I noticed how much I love airports when I travel internationally, and I didn’t connect the two things until here recently.

I remember it like it was yesterday: my first solo trip. Eight years ago. I deplaned in Heathrow, connecting to Paris, and had an hour or two to wait. I walked into the main hall of the international terminal and nearly burst into tears when I heard the cacophony of hundreds of different languages. The sea of humanity talking and eating and drinking and running for flights…it felt, well, magical. It heightened my feeling of adventure and made me feel like anything could happen.

Those of you who travel for a living are probably rolling your eyes at me right now, but come on… you’ve felt it.

And those of you who knew me then remember that trip to France …it was magical, and all kinds of things I could never have predicted did happen. It was an adventure and a soap opera and a big old party all rolled into one trip. And I felt it it coming when I walked into that hall in Heathrow.

So this is all to say that I think this is why I like airports. I don’t just love travel in the sense that I like to BE other places, I actually like the GETTING to the other places too. I like the space between. I have an itinerary in Amsterdam and London, sure, but anything could happen. I’ve left my regular life behind for a week.

I enjoy the liminal space that airports represent. They give you the chance to transition into the next thing, the energy of where you’re going.

Plus, I was just in the TSA line with the entire Colorado Rapids soccer team. That was a nice way to start a vacation. I’ll take that view with my liminal space anytime. 🙂

Now I’m sitting in Elway’s in terminal B in DIA having a big lunch and a drink, so that I can sleep on my flight to London and dream of the incredible things waiting to be known there….

Cheers!

Traveling Girl

Believe it or not, friends, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t going to go anywhere this summer. A couple long weekends, maybe, but no adventures.

Nope, I’m doing some projects around the house, having dental work done…you know, exciting things like that are sucking up time and money. No adventures for me this year. Maybe next year.

And then Anthony Bourdain passed away.

I didn’t know him personally, of course, but I have always admired him – his spirit, his attitude, his bravery, his brutal honesty, his creativity. His ability to literally go anywhere and talk and eat with anyone. What a total badass that man was, in so many ways. The quote above absolutely represents what I believe about travel.

Life is, really and truly, short. We can’t know how much time we have left in this amazing world. Losing anyone is terrible, and as travelers and adventurers, losing someone who, more than anyone else, seemed to totally and completely embody the spirit of the explorer feels like a slap.

Get up off the couch. Move.

So in the space of the last few days, I’ve considered and tossed about a dozen ideas for a short-ish trip – from Vancouver to Croatia to Bolivia – and landed on three days in Amsterdam, where I have never been, and three days in London, where I haven’t been in 20 years. Not the most out-there, adventurous locales, but I am so excited to be there for a week and soak in the history and culture of those two great cities. I leave June 30.

Work will be here when I get back. So will the house. And everything else that I get caught up worrying about. Right now? Right now I am healthy, gainfully employed, and I have a week off. So let’s go.

Travel is such an amazing addition to life, no matter how you do it. Nice hotels or backpacking and hostels. Big cities or tiny out of the way places. As I said when I started this project, I believe travel broadens our minds, deepens our humanity, and feeds our souls. Plus it’s FUN.

Ask around. Where have people you know been that they rave about? Or that taught them something? Or that they are dying to go back to? People love to give travel tips (case in point, this blog). This trip would not have taken shape nearly as quickly yesterday if the young woman who gave me a pedicure didn’t offer up the tip that Norwegian Air flies direct from Denver to Gatwick and I might be able to find a decent flight with them. I had no idea. They don’t show up on a lot of flight searches because it’s only a once a week flight. Voila.

She is 25, just got back from a month backpacking in Asia, and is heading out on her first solo journey in a few months. I gave her some advice and a little pep talk to help calm her nervousness about traveling alone, and she gave me the flight tip. We have next to nothing else in common, this young woman and I, but travel brings people together that way, doesn’t it.

What adventure or heart’s desire or even just fun road trip are you putting off for bullshit reasons? (Please note: dental work is officially a bullshit reason. I can’t even believe I typed that)

Let’s Go.

Sending you love and courage to shelve the excuses and get after it. Whatever it is.

Cheers!

Traveling Girl