Travel Opinion

Art Basel: A visual delight in my own backyard.

I live in Bologna, Italy, a mere five and a half-hour drive from Basel, Switzerland, which hosts one of the most important annual modern and contemporary art shows in the world, Art Basel.  In my two years of living in Bologna, did it ever occur to me to make a trip to Basel?  No.  Why not?  Good question.  Laziness…money…ignorance perhaps…I guess it gets the best of us sometimes.  Our own backyards are sometimes the last place we explore.  In this case, I was lucky enough that my friend Zong rescued me from my remiss by inviting me to meet him at his gallery’s exhibition this year at Art Basel.

Having virtually no visual arts education and not being a fan of fairs and trade shows in general, my decision to go was in the spirit of adventure, friendship, and trust in Art Basel’s excellent reputation.  And, well, why not?  The exhibition spanned a full week in Basel, with about 300 galleries exhibiting, strictly chosen from a group of 2,000 applicants.  It sounded promising.

Simply put, Art Basel wholly lived up to its reputation and in scale, was truly the most impressive collection of modern and contemporary art I have seen in my life.  And I really can’t stress this enough – you don’t need to know anything about art to enjoy an exhibition like this.  From all-star artists like Picasso and Warhol, furniture and design displays, photography, and installation art, there is something for everyone.  And don’t even try looking at everything – there’s no time.  Just stop and look at what really gets you.

Statistically speaking, there is something for everyone, and because this is not your average art show, that something is likely to be, well, amazing.  I will never forget the moment I walked into one of the exhibit halls at Art Basel, roughly the size of a football field, and realized the entire hall was dedicated to installation art.  This is not the sort of thing you find every day.  I suddenly felt like an eight-year-old that just walked into Disneyland.  I spent the afternoon weaving my way between larger than life paintings with their own soundtracks (think Moby Dick dressed in costume complete with whale sounds and a recorded reading), huge sculptures, through installed walls of fictional deserted businesses on an urban street, and into countless dark rooms with video projects, each one like a treasure waiting to be pulled out of a grab bag.  By the end of the day, my mind was soaring from all the stimulation from so many visual delights.  I was thrilled.  I even managed to convince my athletic and left-brained travel companion, David, to come.  He found solace in the visual mind tricks from architecturally inspired installations.

And the cherry on top of the fabulousness that was Art Basel was the beautiful, accessible, and relaxed city of Basel.  While the city was packed with people attending the exhibition, there was plenty of room for everyone (aside from the steep hotel prices – book in advance).  I spent a relaxing evening enjoying a stroll along the River Rhine, soaking in the beautiful architecture and the wonderfully relaxed vibe.  My friend David spent the day hiking along the river, which he filled me in on with his iPhone photos when we met later for dinner at a local favorite for beer,  The Fischerstube.

Reuniting with Zong in what really did turn out to be a mecca of modern and contemporary art, I really started kicking myself for not being more proactive with my travel adventure research and coming to Art Basel sooner.  How many other amazing places are there to explore and things to do in the world am I missing because, well, no one has invited me?  I’ve really got to get on this…Next year, Venice Biennale, here I come!

Here’s a slide show of my favorite photos from Basel:

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Art Basel 2013, a set on Flickr.

Lake Como: Good enough for George Clooney, good enough for me.


When deciding from long lists of potential vacation destinations seems to have less reason than throwing a dart at a dart board, a good potential mantra could be, “If it is good enough for George Clooney, it is good enough for me.”
Such is the case with famed celebrity destination, Lake Como (Lago di Como), which is in Lombardy, Italy, near the Swiss border.  While George Clooney was forced into selling his villa here several years ago due to ongoing paparazzi onslaughts, this area has long been a destination for real and quasi royalty, with a guest list boasting the likes of Pliny the YoungerJohn F. Kennedy, Mark Twain, and Tom Cruise.

Even the sidewalks are beautiful in the Lake Como region, here at Bellagio, Italy
Even the sidewalks are beautiful in the Lake Como region, here at Bellagio.


So what is so great about Lake Como?  Who knows.  But there is something undeniably charming about a grand, lazy lake, winding around rolling green hills dotted with tiny villages painted in pastel, with the occasional eloquent villa tucked around the bend.  And to make matters better, after a day on the lake, a relaxing dinner of homemade pasta with black truffles and Tuscan wine awaits.

It was a rainy day at Lake Como, Italy, but still beautiful.
It was a rainy day at Lake Como, but still beautiful.


Bellagio is one of the famed villages in the community, accessible by a dependable network of boats serving most of the villages in the area, and boasting a namesake casino in Las Vegas that is nearly the same size as this tiny little town.


Oh, and George Lucas also filmed part of Star Wars here.  Check out these articles with more info to tickle your fancy…

Teaching English Abroad: A means to an end, or home away from home?

Does your burning desire to travel keep you up at night?

Do you speak any other languages?

If no, are you an expert in skiing/snowboarding/sailing/scuba diving?

No? Well, worry no more. If you are reading this blog and understand all of my slang, phrasal verbs, use of the verb “to get” and collocations, your English is your golden ticket to a life abroad.

So, how do you feel about teaching English?

While this is indeed a fictional conversation, I’m certain that it has taken place many thousands of times, over the years, all over the world. If you are wondering how I became such an expert on the topic, the answer is possibly one of the most surprising things that has ever happened to me. I’m a Californian, and I have been living in Bologna, Italy, for two years. My career path twisted and turned enough to dump me out in Italy for what was supposed to be a period of one year. And at the conclusion of that year, I realized I wasn’t nearly ready to return to normal life in the U.S. So, what could I possibly do to sustain myself here? Why, teach English of course.


I wish I had a time machine and could have read my own blog before I moved to Italy. Instead, I spoke less than ten words in Italian when I touched down here two years ago, and had no idea how I would possibly make money. Crazy you say? I think yes. Believe me, getting settled hasn’t been a cakewalk. But every little setback and frustration has been completely and utterly worth it. My time living in Europe is pretty much the most important period of my life to date. I thank my lucky stars that this opportunity fell in my lap.


And now, at the age of 32, with two masters degrees and fifteen years of work experience, I find myself living like a college student in Bologna and spending most of my days hissing like a snake in a hopeless effort to remind my students not to forget the “s” when speaking in the third person.

My English teaching colleagues span the career spectrum from college student to lawyer to security guard, and come from the United States, Australia, and Ireland. You can find us with the heaviest backpacks, standing at bus stops with our lunch in our hands. I can safely say that none of us imagined ourselves as being experts at explaining the usage of the present perfect verb tense, but I guess weirder things have happened. No matter what the economy is like, people will always spend money to learn English, and therefore, there is always a demand for mother tongue English teachers. And that is great news for you, because no matter what your skills are in teaching English – from none to expert – it means you can live wherever you want in the world, and pay your way through this profession. But while becoming an English teacher is quite easy, being a good English teacher is not so easy.

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My students watching Obama’s acceptance speech.

A deceptively simple occupation from an outsider’s perspective, the reality is teaching English is a constant juggling act of the infinite needs of a student body that includes every imaginable age, learning type, background, and English level. Being a good English teacher mandates a drive and a determination to rise above the mediocrity of the industry in an effort to not only share the gift of our native language, but to fill the many challenging roles that go along with teaching including diplomacy, psychology, and friendship. This isn’t an easy task. But the payback is exponential (notice the use of “payback” and not “paycheck).

There are circuits of international schools around the world that allow their teachers to spend their lives moving from city to city, teaching at different international schools within the circuit, and exploring different countries. Coincidentally, a close friend of mine from my hometown is doing just that. We ran into each other by chance in Bologna, and after living here for a year and a half, making a living by teaching English at a wealthy private English school, he has now moved on to China, where he is teaching for a private English school owned by Disney. He loves it.

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My students at the Mediateca library in San Lazzaro always remind me to wear my jacket.

Not only does teaching allow you to earn the money you need to live in the country of your dreams, but the students you teach help you build the support network you need to acclimate to and live happily in the country of your dreams, which is the least talked about and most important aspect of this job. Every Friday at the local library my longtime students make me feel a little less homesick for my Aunt Suzanne, as they know the ins and outs of my love life and even remind me to wear my jacket. When I miss my nephew, every Monday and Friday I enjoy my youngest student just a little more, especially when I get to help him decorate the Christmas tree, which was especially important this year since I didn’t get to go home for Christmas. When my Saturday afternoon student cried on my shoulder after her boyfriend broke up with her, I felt like the big sister I always wished I was (I’m an only child). And I was overwhelmed when one of my students called me from the hospital just before Christmas to apologize for missing our last class, and to give me the information for a theatre group he was encouraging me to join. Through my students I know the ins and outs of Bologna in a way that some of my Bolognese friends can’t even understand.

I feel utterly blessed, and I wonder how I could have possibly been so remiss as to never have considered moving abroad earlier in my life. But then I remember that after discovering my love of theatre at the age of 11, I’ve spent the better part of my life completely absorbed in my career oriented-ness. Unfortunately, I spent little time pondering what I wanted from life aside from my career goals. Fancy that. How American of me.

I have written this blog in the hopes that my unexpected adventures in the life of an English teacher will somehow inspire you to think about what you want from life, and not what you want from your job. And if what you want from life somehow includes traveling, all the better. Now you know how to finance it.

And the next time you are in Italy and happen to see someone on the bus reviewing an English grammar book, do say hello.


Bon voyage.

Budapest, Hungary

International in scope and youthful at heart, Budapest’s style, fascinating history, exploding nightlife, and affordable quality of life make a visit to this city a no-brainer addition your European itinerary. Seriously, don’t miss it.

I wish I could say that I did everything on my Budapest “must see” list. But to be completely honest, I didn’t even come close. A place of both obvious and hidden treasures, it is a matter of time, curiosity, and determination to truly understand it’s potential. To that end, my must-see list was lengthy and impossible to complete in one trip. I never made it to Castle Hill, I never saw the inside of the Parliament Building or St. Stephen’s Basilica. I never even made it to City Park. At face value, my trip seems to be a complete failure.

But instead, the reverse was true. My trip was brimming with food (Centrál Kávéház, Hummus Bar, Koleves Vendéglo), fun (Jewish Quarter, Andrássy Boulevard), friends, culture (The Great Synagogue, Museum of Ethnography, Freedom Square) , and – of course – nightlife (Szimpla Kert, Rudas Thermal Baths).

I admit my youth leads to a overpriority on nightlife when I travel. During wintertime travel, the result is an overwhelming reduction of my daylight touring hours and traditional sightseeing activities. But if there is any city to focus on nightlife, it is in Budapest. Not partaking in Budapest’s robust nightlife means not truly experiencing what makes this city unique. Thousands of young, international tourists fill the streets after dark, exploring the city by night with the help of new friends and word of mouth about the underground nightlife scene, including a never-ending supply of ruin bars, expanding every notion you’ve ever had about what to expect from a bar or club. My favorite was Szimpla Kert, a place defining the unexpected, boasting a multi-level open floor-plan with a maze of staircases, balconies and small rooms, of which the cherry on top of the randomness was a pile of giant peeled carrots on the bar, and a copy machine in the middle of one of the main rooms downstairs. Another unforgettable night was the party at the Rudas Thermal Baths, which are open until 4am on Saturday night. We showed up at 1:30am.

I could go on and on, but I’m not going to ramble. Instead, I am going to let some of my pictures speak for themselves. And I’m also expecting you to go…asap. Because there’s more where this came from. And you know, the best part about having leftovers on my “must see” list? I have to go back soon…
Slide show of my favorite Budapest photos.

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Best of Budapest, a set on Flickr.

Ljubljana, Slovenia

In all honesty, when my best friend suggested we spend Christmas in Ljubljana, my first response was, “Wait, what did you say?” I’d never actually heard this city’s name spoken before and I was baffled when my friend first uttered it.

After this awkward beginning to our vacation planning, you can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to eventually find ourselves in the capital of Slovenia, in the midst of a city that skillfully manipulates its many resources with more than ideal results.

Considered one of the safest national capitals in the world, one of its claims to fame is it has no claims to fame. A trip to Ljubljana is simply an exercise of complete cultural immersion and no stress – it is totally walkable, it is in the Eurozone, and it is more than affordable. Which, to me, spells out “perfect weekend getaway,” or a nice addition to an already busy travel itinerary with just a little space left.

Ljubljana has lots to give, so it really just depends on what you are looking for. Every building in the historic city center seems to warrant a study in architecture, not to mention Ljubljana’s landmark castle, which perches on a hill overlooking the city and sports a fantastic restaurant. There are a plethora of good local wines (only two or three euro per glass!), a fun yet casual nightlife (thanks to the local university), thermal pools, museums, and both local and international tasty treats to choose from. What more could you ask for?

To top it off, the heart of the city center hugs a picturesque river framed by weeping willows. Deciding where to spend an evening in Ljubljana is as simple as following the gentle curve of the river, which will take you by many of the popular bars and restaurants in the center. If you are indecisive, you can even zig-zag back across the river with the help of a series of bridges, seeming more like art pieces than something meant for practical use. Summer can’t come soon enough, when I plan to return to Ljubljana and spend a lazy Saturday afternoon sitting on a patio along the river, enjoying a long meal, and people watching.

My best friend Lena and I visited Ljubljana over Christmas, so our experience was distinctly holiday infused. Unbeknownst to us, Ljubljana seems to be ground zero for holiday decorations, with decorations in every corner of the city and an endless series of what could best be described as whimsically beautiful Christmas lights following the river which culminates in a Christmas market in the main square. I can say, in all my travels, I have never seen more imaginative Christmas decorations. Arriving on Christmas eve at 10pm, we had resigned ourselves to eating take-out pizza and going to bed at 11pm, and were instead whisked into the whirlwind and magic which is Ljubljana on Christmas eve, where the city center is the place to see and be seen. Families and friends meet in the center to enjoy the festivity along the river, mulled wine, tasty treats, and last-minute shopping at the market.

The only challenge with visiting Ljubljana is getting there. While it borders many countries: Italy, Croatia, Hungary, and Austria, existing conflicts in train travel between Hungary and Italy have led to a dearth of direct trains from either country. Your options are buses, planes, or trains from Austria or Croatia.

I couldn’t be prouder that I have come so far as not only being a proponent of making this city a destination in your European travel planning but also proudly letting the city’s name roll off my tongue: I heart lyoo-BLYAH-nah. 🙂

Slide show of my favorite Ljubljana photos

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Best of Ljubljana , a set on Flickr.

Rediscovering America: An Italian in New York

Italy has taught me how to love my home again.  After thirty years in Southern California, and many summers and holidays in New York, I felt like I didn’t know how to have fun in my own country anymore.  Nothing seemed new and exciting.  I came to Italy in search of that warm fuzzy feeling again, and I found it.  But of course, as Murphy’s Law would have it, now that I am in Italy I miss the United States terribly.  A complex combination of “the grass is always greener,” legitimate cravings for food, friends, and family (not necessarily in that order), and a renewed thirst for traveling, my longing to explore America runs deep these days.

I share this new-found enthusiasm with the people who fill my life here in Italy.  From the bus to my English classes to my roommates and my favorite café, my days are spent meeting countless curious Italians, trying desperately to understand why I would leave such a beautiful place as San Diego to come to Bologna.  Their opinions of America are those rose-colored glasses I needed to begin a new love affair with America.  Stories of their impressions of and adventures in the United States always whet my appetite (again) for a trip home.

One of my favorite stories about Italians adventuring in America has come from one of my best English students, a very established Bolognese marketing professional, who knows more about American politics than I do.  He wrote this story about his first trip to the United States, when he went alone several decades ago before he was even twenty years old.  The first time he read it to me, I died laughing.  Hope you enjoy it nearly as much as I did.

My impressions about my journey in the United States.

By Paolo, October 2012

I was in Mexico at the end of February during a journey that I had begun two months before, and as you are probably aware, it was warm over there.  Suddenly I decided to go to New York, but in New York it was winter.  I left Bologna, Italy only with summer clothes because I had planned to go to the USA on another trip late in spring.  Well just a few days later I left Mexico and I touched down at J.F. Kennedy airport when I was under twenty years-old, without knowing English, without a hotel reservation and during the winter  dressed in  summer clothes.  It didn’t seem too bad!

I remember that at the gate of the airport I wore an alpaca overcoat that I had bought in Peru… but only as a present for a friend of mine.  But my friend was a  skinny girl! So imagine, I arrived at  customs, dressed like a hippy, with long hair and wearing this weird overcoat, Jimi Hendrix style.  They frisked me!

I found a taxi who drove me to  Manhattan.  I got out of the taxi, right in front of a hotel.  I took my suitcases which were very heavy because I had bought some stone objects,  and I went into the hotel.  It was fully booked! I found myself in the middle of a street  not knowing exactly where I was, without an idea of where I could go.  In addition it was getting dark and mean characters were coming towards me.   I was getting scared about the situation.  I tried  three or four other hotels and eventually I found a room.  The receptionist understood my position and smiled at me.  I went in the room and I had a warm bath.  After my bath I stopped me in front of a window and I looked at the roofs covered by the snow and …I was in Manhattan!

San Diego Uncovered: Enjoying some of the best beer the United States has to offer

As promised in my last blog entry, here’s the first entry on my list of favorite experiences as a San Diego local.

1. Enjoying some of the best beer the United States has to offer
As a pseudo San Diegan, I’ve taken on San Diego’s reputation for creating craft beer as one of my personal bragging rights.  Unfortunately and obviously, I have had absolutely nothing to do with contributing to the amazing infrastructure of San Diego’s craft brewing industry which has spurred not only a thriving cultural scene related to beer, but has also significantly influenced the national craft brewing industry.   But I am certainly doing my part in the PR department.  Not because I feel obligated.  I truly believe that a trip to San Diego would be wholly incomplete without scheduling ample time for sampling the local brews (unless you don’t like beer, in which case, you can stop reading now).

Whether you trek to a brewery or do the tasting in the comfort of one of San Diego’s many restaurants and bars offering rich selections of local brew, is entirely up to you.  Or both!  There is an endless assortment of innovative breweries which often claim local and sometimes national and even international fame including Stone, AleSmith (my favorite!!), Ballast Point, Lost Abbey, Mission, Pizza Port, Coronado, Firehouse, etc (here’s a clearer list).  A trip to any of these breweries is a sneak peek into the super trendy world of craft brew, which is giving wine a run for its money.  Your added benefit is you will learn more about hops than you ever cared to know.

Due to the thriving beer scene (as defined by this New York Times article), there are many tour services popping up making it even easier for you to enjoy a worry free tour of several breweries without driving or having to worry about hours and scheduling.  The driving point is important, as craft beer tends to be higher in alcohol content than typical domestic beer.  Otherwise, if you decide to go solo, make sure to call in advance to ensure the brewery is open and offers tours.

Nick, my favorite bartender from the Ritual, explaining a beer to me.

If you feel like taking it easy and you can live without an in-depth perspective on the importance of hops and an insider’s glimpse into the mind of a beer brewer, than skip the brewery tour and go straight to one of San Diego’s many restaurants and bars rich in local and national craft brew selection.  Depending on how much you love beer, I suggest approaching this in one of two ways.

Your first option is to have a casual yet elongated, tasty and relaxed lunch at one of my two favorite Pizza Port locations in Solana Beach and Ocean Beach, or the Coronado Brewery.  Pizza Port obviously specializes in pizza, where the Coronado Brewery offers a tasty American-style menu.  And each of these restaurants are about five minutes from the ocean, so you can enjoy a stroll along the ocean after you’ve indulged.  This is a great option if you aren’t a beer fanatic but want to enjoy some quality local beer.

Your other option is just to go straight to where all the brewers go to drink beer, which I’d say, is a safe bet.  The destination?  30th St.  This is, hands down, my favorite destination in San Diego.  I even bought a condo on 30th St so I wouldn’t have to go far to enjoy all the beer this street has to offer.

30th street connects three neighborhoods in San Diego rich in history and character – University Heights, North Park, and South Park.  Along 30th St you will find bars and restaurants with some of the best beer selections you can find – anywhere.  Seriously, I found myself longing for an evening in Toronado as I perched on a bar stool at the Délirium Café in Brussels, Belgium.  But, after all, I am a California girl.

The owners of the Ritual Tavern in North Park, Mike and Stacey.

There’s even a beer bus that runs between the neighborhoods every third Wednesday.  But if you happen to be in the neighborhood on a night when the bus isn’t running, your biggest dilemma is choosing between the neighborhoods and all the awesome places in each of the neighborhoods.  My recommendation is to begin in the center, which is the community of North Park, at the intersection of 30th St and University Ave, and go from there.  From this intersection, you have no more than a two block walk to three of my favorites – Toronado, The Ritual Tavern, and The Linkery.  The Ritual’s beautiful interior and intimate bar paired with service that treats you like family and a small but impeccable beer selection match the spirit of the 30th St culture.  And before you know it you will be enjoying a deep conversation with several home brewers, maybe a brewer from Stone and possibly even dining on one of their special beer tasting dinners.  After the Ritual, head down to the Linkery before they close for an after dinner drink to sample their fabulous cask selection in affordable half pints and watch the city go by from their fabulous urban location.  Then stumble back up to Toronado to finish the night off with a bang in the stark, yet holy (for beer lovers) environment.

Other favorites include the family friendly picnic tables and outside bar surrounded by sand at the Station Tavern, to traditional, down & dirty, and legit at Hamiltons (both in South Park), and the higher art of bar food and beer at Blind Lady Ale House in University Heights.

Only after an evening exploring 30th St will you fully understand what warranted one of my favorite beers to derive its name from this special place – the 30th St Pale Ale by Green Flash.

Stay tuned for my next favorite San Diego experience,  More than just pasta and olive oil in Little Italy, to be published within the week!

San Diego Uncovered: My favorite experiences

They say you can take the girl out of San Diego, but you can’t take the San Diego out of the girl.  I am no exception to that rule.  As I write this blog entry from exactly 6,201 miles away from San Diego – according to Google maps – in my current home of Bologna, Italy, I should feel far away.  But I can still feel that unmistakable cool ocean breeze, I can tase my favorite burrito at Rubio’s, I can still see my friends smiling.  San Diego and my nearby hometown of El Centro, CA still feel like they are right around the corner.

But, logic prevails, and I must admit that 6,201 miles are a lot.  Chances are, you’ll be heading to San Diego before I do.  So I thought I’d give you my personal rundown of my fave experiences in San Diego, the moments that I pursue when I want to forge out of the predictability of my routine and forget that I’m a local, forget stress and responsibilities and just be a tourist in my own fabulous city for a day.  These are also my go-to’s for showing out-of-town-guests the best San Diego has to offer.

San Diego is not a place that can simply be taken at face value, and quantifying and explaining all it has to offer is no easy task.  While it is famous for surf, sun, and the zoo, if you give it a chance and just dig a little deeper, San Diego will show you a side that you never expected.  Not only can you get a tan, but you can also find exactly what your heart desires.

Here’s my list of favorite experiences, in no specific order.  Each experience will be a separate blog post that I will be publishing over the next few weeks.

1. Enjoying some of the best beer the United States has to offer
2. More than just pasta and olive oil in Little Italy
3. A day on an island
4. Beach bums at their best in Northern San Diego County
5. Two for one – Culture and nature in Balboa Park
6. Baseball and Hipsters in the East Village
7. A day at the mall
8. Lavish elegance in downtown San Diego
9. Taco Tuesday in Old Town – A little bit of local, a little bit of tourist
10. Downtown La Jolla – Tradition happens for a reason
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So, without further adieu, I present experience number one: Enjoying some of the best beer the United States has to offer.

Happy exploring!!!!

Museums and Traveling and What You Could be Missing.

I’ve finally realized that I am addicted to traveling.  Perhaps because I embrace the opportunity to be a fleeting resident in a new place where I am willingly sucked into someone else’s world.  A world where – for the time being – there is no laundry waiting, no dishes to be done, and no bills to be paid.


I want to pretend that this new and exotic world is mine, if only for a few days.  I want it all, actually, because somehow I also want to figure out how to transform my visit from something fleeting and touristy into a long-term, measurable connection.  But how?  Because honestly, as much as we strive to know about these places we visit, how much do we really know?


I find myself wandering tiny streets,  optimistically searching for that café or restaurant where only the locals go so I can somehow meet them and understand their spirit.  And let’s face it – this is not an easy task.  These places are not on google maps.  Or on tripadvisor.


So after many fruitless attempts at this technique, I have gladly settled for the next best thing.  Which is actually not settling at all really.  It has become my favorite activity in every city I go.


The places I go to instead of the elusive “locals only” spots are on google maps.  And they are probably in your travel books too.  I guess it sounds too good to be true.  And maybe it is, because maybe you aren’t going to like my answer.  The place that I go in every new city I visit in order to understand and connect with the city, is the local art museum.


Yes, I get it.  At face value museums can seem uptight, cold, and uninteresting.  Boring perhaps is the best word.  But I beg to differ.  Far from being a victim of bad lighting and boring docent lectures, my museum visits over the last year have often been the highlight of my travels.  Favorites range from Baltimore’s provoking American Visionary Art Museum, to Winslow Homer’s rugged New England beach landscapes at the Portland Museum of Art in Maine, to the overwhelming Monet exhibit at the Musee d’Orsay in Paris, and the passionate permanent collection at the El Museo del Barrio in East Harlem.

Sunset in front of the American Visionary Art Museum


What is most fascinating about these museums, and what subsequently prompted me to write this blog post, is each of them are about as different as you and me.  Why?  Because within their walls rest objects created by people.  These objects each have an individual story to be told.  But the true fascination comes from seeing them grouped together in permanent or temporary exhibits, as the collective story they tell reflects the personality of the city and the individuals that make up the city you are visiting.  Seriously.


On my current tour of the US, I’ve spent my evenings hanging out with friends and loved ones, and my days wandering the halls of my favorite art museums.  I know, I can’t complain.  My trip thus far has included New York, Washington DC, and Chicago.  I return to the museums here over and over again.  They are amazing. But each one is very different, and their differences are related to the cities they call home.  Understanding their differences is about getting to know what makes each of these cities tick.  Here’s why I love each of them.


The Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago
The American Spirit

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Not an inspiring picture, but an inspiring quote.


Chicago is one of my favorite cities in the world, and its museums haven’t let me down.  It is a city that embodies the resilience and graciousness of the American spirit like no other city in America, and these qualities are skillfully mirrored in the permanent collection of the Art Institute of Chicago through combinations of masterpieces like Grant Wood’s American Gothic, Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks, and Mary Cassatt’s The Child’s Bath, among many others.  

All of this amazingness on the backdrop of a beautiful building steps away from fabulous Millennium Park.  It is really no wonder why this museum is one of my favorite museums in the world.


Subsequently, it was quite àpropos that in this museum, wandering the endless maze of Roy Lichtenstein‘s work last Thursday, I had one of those light bulb moments where I finally came to understand a museum’s unique ability to poignantly capture the essence of the city it calls home.  Seeing the Lichtenstein exhibit taught me the importance of comics and comic art in the cultural heritage of Chicago in a way that I never would have understood otherwise.  Hurry up because the exhibit closes soon.


Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City
Diversity and Humanity

Metropolitan Museum of Art
My favorite museum steps – the Metropolitan Museum of Art


When I realized that Harry and Sally spent an afternoon here in a scene of one of my favorite movies of all time, When Harry Met Sally, it confirmed that I was not alone in my love for this place.   But how could I ever think I would be?  Like the Art Institute of Chicago, a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art is an experience both in and out of the building.  There is nothing like approaching the Metropolitan Museum of Art and witnessing hundreds of people treating the steps of this magnificent building like their own front porch.  Sitting outside in the sun, dancing and painting on the sidewalk, entering and exiting the museum in a flurry of positive activity.  People of all shapes and sizes happily co-habiting and epitomizing the je ne sais quoi of New York, where constant wonder shocks you in the realization of the diversity of humanity.  All this on the backdrop of the sheer awe of the scale of the museum building and its collection representing in perfect form the grandeur of New York City.  The museum’s permanent collection of art and artifacts is just as diverse and grand as the outside.  So much so, there is little my words can do to convey the experience.  There is truly something for everybody here – from fashion to Egyptian architecture.  Just like New York City, you can literally find the world in this museum.  You just have to go.


The National Portrait Gallery and the American Art Museum, Washington DC
Stately and democratic

The Portrait Gallery
A cold but lively night in Chinatown in front of the Portrait Gallery


I have never met more new people in one day on vacation than during a day spent at the National Portrait Gallery.  No matter how much I love a museum, no appreciation I have can ever compare to what I feel for this place.  This is, hands down, my favorite museum.


Believe me, the first time I visited this place I was just as surprised by my reaction as you might be.  But the reason is very clear – while the connotation of the word “portrait” might call up ancient images of boring rich people who you have no interest in, this place proves that everything you expected to feel about a portrait is unfounded.  This is a museum whose purpose is understanding people through art.  A docent here once told me that the museum is half art and half history, as understanding each portrait is to enjoy the artistic quality as well as absorb the story behind each of people in the paintings and to understand our own history more succinctly.  Mirroring the role of the city it calls home, this museum truly represents not just the nation’s capital but the United States as a whole.  In a true exercise of cultural democracy, the Portrait Gallery proudly displays portraits from the most stately politicians to your next door neighbor. Here and only here is it possibly for a person like me to meet everyone from George Washington to George Bush to the founder of the Girl Scouts, and finish my visit by strolling through 180 portraits of residents from the Iowa hometown of portrait artist Rose Frantzen.


And it gets better.  The National Portrait Gallery shares space with the American Art Museum.  As you wander the halls of the Portrait Gallery you will find yourself mistakenly wandering into a hallway belonging to the American Art Museum.  Wait, did I say mistake?  I wish I made mistakes like this more often.  After seeing Norman Rockwell at his finest two years ago, I began wondering if I needed to reserve two spots on my number one favorite museums list.  Last week my delight with this museum surpassed everything I’ve ever seen here, with the best collection of photography I have enjoyed in years as part of the African American Art: Harlem Renaissance, Civil Rights Era, and Beyond exhibit.  My suspicions are officially confirmed, and I now have two number one faves.


But my favorite afternoons in Washington, DC are actually spent both inside and outside the museum on its dramatic steps in the center of Chinatown.   Coincidentally – or maybe not so coincidentally – this museum joins the ranks of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Metropolitan Museum of Art with its urban proximity to the spirit of the city.


Gee, what more could I ask for?  Hope you too can find your favorite places in the next city you visit. 

Home in Park Slope, Brooklyn

My English students in Italy often ask me to explain the difference between “home” and “house.” I usually stumble through my answer. The best I have ever managed to muster up is that a house is a building, whereas a home is your place to be.

This is by no means a textbook definition, and I could definitely do with some good input in a major way. How do you define a home?

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Our subway stop.

I am really interested to know. As I rambled about in a previous blog entry, my travels through the United States this summer have uncovered the depth of my ongoing quest to answer this very question on a personal level – what is my home?

Predictably, the answer hasn’t come easily. Welcome complications have arisen from recent life adventures that sent me from my long-time home in San Diego, CA to a new beginning in Pittsburgh, PA, followed by Bologna, Italy, where I am now. I’ve spent this August on a break from work gallivanting around the eastern United States with old friends, family, and coworkers. My most recent stop was Park Slope, Brooklyn, a sort of homecoming after being away for many years. My visit incubated a little voice that has been nagging me, and has become annoyingly loud over the last few days. Park Slope, always a “taken for granted” second home for me, might actually be home.

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Park Slope, Brooklyn is, at face value, a lively, diverse, and wealthy community in Brooklyn, NY. Sporting every imaginable cuisine within a ten minute walk, ornate churches, overpriced boutiques (is that redundant?), and the most diverse families I’ve seen in the US, some scoff at the sky-high real estate and the gentrification of the area. But don’t judge a book by its cover. This community has an identity that most certainly is more than meets the eye. The history and complexity of Park Slope could fill a thesis or two, and there are tons of people that can explain it better than I.

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Ironically, Park Slope was my first home in the US after my family moved me from my birthplace in Lomé, Togo across the ocean to my father’s childhood home, a beautiful brownstone (although not made of brownstone), in the heart of the Slope on 4th street and 7th avenue.

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My grandma. 🙂

It is this very history, and the history of families like mine in the neighborhood, that has made this community feel like home. As even with the Starbucks and the boutiques that have crept into 7th avenue over the years, the community’s rich past is still evident in staples like Pino’s Pizzeria,

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mentioned in an earlier post as the best pizza I have eaten outside Italy. While easy to overlook, this food culture is a steadfast part of the immigrant population of the area.

My family’s home of 50 years in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I was lucky enough to be born into US citizenship, but I am fiercely proud to share something in common with the thousands of immigrants of every imaginable origin whose parallel paths finally crossed when they found their home in this community, binding cultures that rarely overlapped outside of the US. Like many new immigrants, my great grandparents on my dad’s side, from Ireland, settled in Brooklyn. My grandparents moved my dad and my uncle to 4th street after purchasing their brownstone in 1955, which stayed in our family nearly fifty years. At that time the neighborhood was affordable – my grandpa sold subway tokens and taught my dad the ins and outs of riding the subway as if he were one of the architects of the subways, details that my dad has tried to pass on to me, but now seem insignificant as this once coveted information has been replaced by your latest iPhone app.

4th street and 7th avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

It is hard to separate my dad from his roots in Park Slope, crossing 4th street every night to have his second dinner at his best friend Michael’s house, who was a second generation Italian American and the oldest of seven brothers. He later became my godfather. And although my dad has lived in California for much of his adult life, every time he says “faarest” instead of “forest,” I am reminded of stories of his days playing ball on 4th street with Michael and the other guys that are still his best friends.

My dad and his buddies, a long time ago. 🙂

Park Slope still feels like home because of its magical, enduring ability to remain constant in its dynamic identity where people from other places, and people who don’t know where their homes are, find their homes here.

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This is a place filled with people searching for – or finding – a home. People like my fabu friend, Steph, proudly representing a new generation in Park Slope, after making the big move from DC to start her new job at the NYC Department of Education last week.

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Lunch with Steph.

And just last night I crashed a wedding rehearsal dinner on the roof of a new apartment complex in Park Slope, recently purchased by a fabulous lesbian couple that are friends of my childhood neighbor.

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View from the rooftop.

All at once it feels surreal and perfectly normal to be surrounded by these people – the new pioneers in Park Slope, whose grandchildren may one day be writing a blog entry on this very topic.

For me, no matter how many deluxe baby carriages, Starbucks, and purebred dogs currently fill the streets of Park Slope, the democracy of its roots are unmistakable.

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The people who made this history and the people who are only now discovering the Slope are crossing paths, just as the immigrants of my dad’s generation dad, to add to its identity and make this place incredible.

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And maybe now I can do justice explaining the Slope to my english students the next time they ask me the difference between “house” and “home.” Not a house, but a home – this home, this place, is Park Slope, Brooklyn.
I’ve put together some of my favorite shots from my last trip to Park Slope, as most of our pics are on film and are buried in closets.  One of these days, I will dig them out.  I did include a few old pics of Park Slope taken my dad and other family members.

Gallery:

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Best of Park Slope, a set on Flickr.