My time in Ireland this year developed in me a love for the Irish that will never go away. Of the many qualities I fell in love with about the Irish is their love of music, poetry, and performance. This was the connection to my family heritage that I subconsciously sought after. My grandpa was a first-generation Irish-American and a paid actor in FDR’s Works Progress Administration. This video prompted my dad to tell me for the first time that my grandpa had also been a singing waiter in Brooklyn. The pieces of family history are slowly but surely coming together, and I thank my time in Ireland for a lot of that.
Since leaving Ireland, I’ve told so many stories of the special nights in the Irish pubs with locals singing and dancing, that I drove up a bit of demand for sharing the beautiful music and performance that I experienced. So, I decided to make my next vlog be a focus on the music I experienced during my trip. This is my edit of the sounds from a few of my favorite performances I witnessed, which I paired with video I took on my phone of some of Ireland’s beautiful landscapes. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you make it to Ireland soon.
Oh, and don’t forget to turn your sound up! 🙂
Big cities can be quite a puzzle to get to know, and Rome is no exception. Even tougher still, Rome’s huge tourism economy makes it tricky to discover how to deviate from the beaten path. I’ve been to Rome about ten times, and I still don’t feel like I could confidently recommend a restaurant for dinner, for example.
When my extended family called me in Bologna a few months ago and told me they’d be in Rome and wanted me to show them around, I knew it was definitely time to brush up on those dinner recommendations, among other things. It was time to work on my Roman game.
It was a huge relief when they told me they were willing to spend a bit of money for the experience they wanted to have. Having a fantastic time in Rome is totally possible without spending much money. The catch is that it takes quite a bit of advance planning and research, which they didn’t have, and neither did I, really.
I immediately thought of finding them a high-quality walking tour of Rome. In my work managing logistics for CISabroad, I’ve come to really respect a good city guide. That being said, not all guides are created equal, as the job requires a curious combination of social aptitude, knowledge, and passion for their city. If you manage to find a good guide, what they offer is invaluable: a personalized, in-depth local’s perspective on the city you’re visiting. Which is kind of the ideal offering when visiting a new place.
Once I find a guide I really like, and the company they work for is easy to work with, I find I usually like all the guides from that company, and can explore other tours they offer. But finding that company can be tricky. For my family’s trip, I was searching for a great guide and a unique tour that didn’t focus too much on history or culture, as my family is more of the sporty type. So when I stumbled upon The Roman Guy’s Cocktail bars in Rome: Evening Walking Tour, it seemed to be the perfect solution and I booked it immediately. Let me tell you, my family really appreciates a good cocktail. The Roman Guy is a big operation, offering many different types of tours, and lots of guides. They pretty much bent over backward to get my family set up with three tours, with just a couple of days notice.
We met our The Roman Guy guide, Fiona, in Piazza Colonna. She immediately endeared herself to us, admitting she was thrilled to lead our private tour, as she needed to get away from her half-Italian, half-Australian teenage son who had just started his summer break. “Our apartment is feeling smaller and smaller these days,” she chuckled. She is the kind of person you hope to meet at a cocktail bar for some fun small-talk with someone other than your family members, who you’ve been talking to 24/7 since your vacation started.
We wove our way to the first bar, and Fiona casually introduced my family to the important landmarks along the way, like the Tempio di Adriano, which was in the neighborhood of the first bar we visited, sporting elegant cocktails and the coolest Jell-O Gin shots set in lemon skins I’ve ever had (ok, admittedly, the only Jell-O Gin shots in lemon skins I’ve ever had).
Next stop was the Pantheon, where Fiona explained its intriguing history to my family, filling in the blanks of my less-than-adequate description from when we had been by the Pantheon earlier that day. What can I say? My forte is logistics and not history. I can’t do it all, sigh.
With my family sufficiently briefed on the Pantheon, we headed to the next bar, and within a five-minute walk, we found ourselves in a sea of fun and chic bars and restaurants that were anything but tourist traps. I’ve been in the area of the Pantheon umpteen times, and I never knew it took so little effort to get away from the touristy cafes. Our destination was Bar del Fico, where Fiona helped me improve my Italian by explaining the origin of their name. I’d always known that “fico” in Italian was a similar slang word to our version of “cool,” but I had never known that outside the slang, the real definition of the word “fico” was “fig.”
The bar was named after a beautiful fig tree standing proudly out front, under which crowds of men were hunched over chess boards, playing to their heart’s content amidst the bustling little square full of action and life. I loved this place, such a great find, feeling so far away from the typical tourist destination, yet actually, just a five-minute walk away.
Next, Fiona diverted our tour to the French church, San Luigi dei Francesi, to see a Caravaggio painting. This diversion was a personal passion she wanted to share with us, as she loves art and is fascinated with the life that the painter Caravaggio, a feisty character, led in Rome.
As we sauntered to the next bar, she shared stories about Caravaggio’s antics in Rome in the 1600s and pointed out places where he had lived and frequented. She also stopped to show us how to properly get water from the famous Roman drinking fountains.
Now was the moment I had anticipated: crossing the Ponte Sisto bridge into Trastevere, and enjoying this lovely, spirited neighborhood on a Friday night. My family would have never gone to this area of Rome if it weren’t for the tour, and were grateful to take in the sunset over the River Tiber from the bridge, and the fabulous vibe of couples and families hanging out, playing music, and taking in the beautiful scene.
The next bar was just a short walk from the bridge at the edge of Trastevere, famous for having one of the best cocktail-makers in the city, and a fabulous aperitivo. My family hadn’t yet learned about the fantastic world of aperitivo, where a drink purchase buys you access to a free, endless buffet.
I, on the other hand, lived on aperitivo when I was a poor student in Bologna. We fondly call the act of eating aperitivo for dinner “apericena,” meaning, “aperitivo” plus “cena” (dinner). We apericena-ed happily this evening, enjoying the rambunctious crowd on the patio.
By the end of our cocktails, my family was admittedly exhausted. It had already been a full evening, and were feeling the jet lag. Nonetheless, we couldn’t finish the tour without stepping into the famously windy streets of Trastevere, and also not without a bit of dessert. Fiona had just the place, and we soon found ourselves standing outside of a little bar, Vendita Libri, Cioccolate e Vino, that only offered chocolate shots with raunchy names. We were thrilled.
We all selected our shot, blushed a little when we ordered it, and watched the bartender combine all of the delicious components into little chocolate cups topped with whipped cream.
The catch was, we were firmly instructed by the bartender that we must insert the entire shot into our mouth, which we all laughed our way through, some of us with more successful outcomes than others.
We ended our evening with a walk to the taxi stand a few blocks away. My sleepy family got in a taxi and were off. Fiona and I exchanged a hug and a goodbye, and I walked back to my Airbnb in Trastevere. To me, that’s the mark of a good tour guide…someone you’d like to stay in touch with. I hope to see Fiona again on another tour or just around town. And despite the jet-lag, my family considers this evening on The Roman Guy’s cocktail tour the highlight of their trip to Rome.
It is hard to imagine that two artists alone could make an indelible mark on a city that would sustain for decades, a century, or more. Yet Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo’s legacy in Mexico City – the fifth largest city in the world – is still very real and tangible. As a photographer, theatre artist, and arts advocate, I feel at home in cities that embrace art, and Mexico City is no exception. I relished every opportunity on my recent trip to experience the Mexico that Rivera and Kahlo knew and loved, taking in their art and visiting their homes and haunts.
In fact, I dedicated an entire day-and-a-half of my Mexico City vacation to my immersion into the world of Diego and Frida. Here’s where I went:
Museo Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo
Calle Diego Rivera 2, Álvaro Obregón, San Angel Inn, 01060
+52 55 8647 5470
The home and studio of Diego Rivera where Frida Kahlo also lived and worked for many years, famous for its incredible architecture by Juan O’Gorman.
Time needed: 1 to 2 hours
I woke up in Veracruz City on the second to last day of 2016 having no idea I’d be going to bed that night in a jungle. Our hostel owner at the Oyster Hostel in Veracruz moonlights as a tour guide and is passionate about the many offerings of the dynamic state of Veracruz, especially the region of Los Tuxtlas around Laguna Catemaco which was our destination that day, compliments of his comfy mini-SUV.
We spent much of the day in the car, winding through the rural countryside of Veracruz on our journey to Catemaco, making pit stops along the way at a famous Cuban-style cigar factory, and a humongous waterfall. The people-watching was as good as it gets.
There was “animal watching” too, unfortunately. I witnessed a group of turkeys standing in the rain along the road, very malnourished and somehow given up on life as their owner tried to hawk them to passing cars. That was depressing.
But Catemaco wasn’t. We had no idea what to expect, which is somehow the best of ways to approach a new place. After arriving, we spent the rest of the late afternoon exploring Laguna Catemaco on a boat owned by a friend of our hostel owner.
From land, the scale of the lake was impossible to recognize, as the lakeshore was lined by trees. But when we actually got on the lake, I was overtaken by the size. We sped along on the boat so quickly that the bumps of waves we hit started to feel like concrete speed bumps that sent us flying, over and over again.
We explored every corner of the lake, from a lakeshore stop for volcanic mud face masks offered by the wife of our boat guide outside the vacation home of the owner of the cigar factory,
to the sunset stop to drink water from a hole along the lake where naturally carbonated water comes up from the earth,
and finally a pause in our boat to roll along the small waves of the lake for a few minutes and watch the monkeys on a small island.
My favorite moment was turning the boat to the west and darting off into the sunset, as the least bashful of the monkeys watched us disappear while peeling a banana another boat had thrown at him.
We went to bed that night in one of the two guest rooms off of a coffee shop.
I showered with no hot water and went to sleep hoping the thousands of birds that populated the trees along the shore wouldn’t wake us up too early. Luckily, I woke up surprisingly refreshed the next morning, the last day of 2016, and enjoyed talking to the other guests over breakfast. They asked what our plan was for the day, and I told him we were exploring the Reserva Ecológica de Nanciyaga, which is supposedly the most visited fee-based attraction in the region of Los Tuxtlas. In other words, there weren’t many other options.
The reserve’s name, Nanciyaga, comes from the Nahuatl language and means “at the end of the Nance trees.” I did some research on the area, and the discontinuous rainforest belt of Middle America reaches its northernmost extent on the mainland in southeastern Mexico. Apparently, the forest in this region is not a rainforest, though, and is instead considered to be a moist forest.
Ha! Whatever that means.
We easily found a taxi to drive us the beautiful four-mile stretch along the lake to the reserve, the same route we had taken by boat yesterday.
I was apprehensive about what we would find at the nature reserve, bracing myself for potential encounters with caged, unhappy animals, which happens sometimes when groups market themselves as sanctuaries to increase tourism.
When we arrived we were the only ones in sight other than the nice woman at the wooden ticket booth. I don’t remember how much we paid to get in, but it was around five dollars each, and maybe even less. After paying, the woman waved us toward a young man carrying a tall stick, who turned out to be our volunteer guide. Instead of letting us wander around on our own and get ourselves into trouble, this young gentleman took us up and down the winding dirt paths and through a history of the ancient Olmec culture, and a bit of a background on the wildlife that call the Los Tuxtlas Biosphere Reserve home.
The ecological park is a self-sustaining property made up of ten acres along lake Catemaco including a mineral spring (Nipapaqui natural hot tub), a tiny lagoon for swimming, small bungalows that accommodate overnight guests, and a wonderful open-air restaurant serving three meals a day to guests, but closing at sunset for those not staying on the property.
Really, though, there was so much more to the property than expected, which we discovered through our sweet young guide. We stopped along the dirt path as we encountered random replicas of Olmec sculptures he used as talking points. Highlights of the property included the temazcal (sweat lodge), which is actually functioning, and group treatments are scheduled throughout the month.
As a theatre person, I loved their outdoor amphitheater. And then, of course, I was shocked-but-not-shocked at the wall of printed photos of guests in mud baths, mixed with pictures of celebrities. Apparently, parts of Medicine Man (1992) with Sean Connery and Lorraine Bracco, and Apocalypto (2006) with Mel Gibson were filmed here. The owner, a woman, is happily pictured in a photo with Mel Gibson.
After enjoying the photo wall, we entered the wooden structure and found ourselves in a small but clean and lovely open-air salon.
My friend enjoyed a mud face treatment, while I purchased the dried mud and some patchouli soap to take home. Folklore claims a princess used to cross over from a neighboring island to use the mud in this region to beautify herself. I took that as a strong hint I should be doing the same.
Once my friend’s face was thoroughly green from this miracle mud, we left the salon to discover rows upon rows of tied leaves laid out for us to select from. I was bewildered, as everything was in Spanish, so it was becoming a bit hard to keep up with all the surprises. I followed my friend’s lead, green face and all, as he picked up a leaf and dipped it into a bucket of water. To my surprise, the leaves were watertight, and the water was carbonated. I took a gulp from my leaf cup: the water had a familiar taste, and I wondered if they pulled it from the same hole we had drunk from the evening before. This was the first time, and possibly the last, I had drunk from a leaf. So far, so good. I was thoroughly charmed by our jungle adventure.
But the surprises didn’t end there. The handy leaf cup maker, a nice young woman, asked if we wanted to have a “White Magic” treatment. I wasn’t aware of this at the time but later discovered from the mother of great friends of mine near Mexicali, Mexico, that this region of Veracruz was famous, or perhaps infamous, for its traditions of magic. My friend and I decided to participate together, and we spent a thoroughly unusual but surprisingly pleasant five minutes being swept with leaves as our white magic doctor chanted and prayed around us. At the end of the ceremony, he presented us with a clay ceramic face on a ribbon to wear around our necks, that he had blessed for us to ward off the spirits. I keep it in my purse. I figure I need all the help I can get. ;b
Our adventure continued alongside an algae-filled lagoon inhabited by more than a few crocodiles and turtles, with a fence separating us humans from these prehistoric-looking characters. They were as still as statues.
And the turtles perched along the long wooden logs looked like a cartoon.
Along with these guys, the area is apparently known for rich birdlife, including toucans and parrots, which we saw from a distance.
In 2003, a few Howler monkeys were reintroduced in the reserve which apparently did well. We saw a large iguana and babies. And we didn’t see any unhappy animals. I was relieved.
Our tour wound down, and our guide showed my friend where to wash off his mask.
Bowls of fresh patchouli leaves adorned the sinks, and our guide smiled and encouraged me to use them as my soap.
I loved them: the fiber seemed to scrub my hands clean and left a wonderful scent. We tipped our guide nicely as he handed me back my soap and mud that he’d carried, and we bid each other goodbye, at which point we were let loose in this little paradise! I was thrilled. It was lunchtime, and lunch at the open-air restaurant seemed like a perfect idea.
We talked to a chef who managed the dessert bar, and she showed us some of the traditional cakes that they offer, tempting us to leave some room for later.
We enjoyed a thoroughly relaxing, delicious lunch on the lakeshore, a beautiful piñata blowing in the wind above us.
After lunch, we made our way back up the winding dirt paths to the wooden ticket booths and asked the woman to call us a taxi. While we waited, we chatted with the volunteer guides waiting for the next visitors to arrive. They were local students and all very proud to be a part of the reserve.
The visit couldn’t have gone better. I’ve promised myself I will return, and next time I will stay at the reserve. Full of good energy, happy people, and happy animals, this is the type of place I want to go to remind myself how much there is to appreciate in life, despite our everyday stresses and challenges.
And until my return, I luckily have quite a store of mud mask to tide me over. I put it on and pretend to be the princess of Catemaco. 🙂
For more information on Nanciyaga, visit this helpful website apparently maintained by an American ex-patriot not affiliated with the reserve.
This week’s photo challenge, Repurpose, is inspiring me to share an object I’ve repurposed, and continue to use every day in my travels throughout the U.S. and Europe.
Traveling doesn’t afford the luxury of taking any object in your possession for granted. Each and every piece that you carry with you is evaluated on the basis of size and weight. And if either of those measurements outweigh its worth in any capacity, that object is dunzo.
Until I began traveling full-time, I was a lover of stuff of all kinds. I couldn’t throw away a postcard or a receipt if my life depended on it. My idea of a fun weekend activity was going to a home-decor store and picking up a throw-pillow, or two. Or maybe a doorstop. Or a fruit bowl.
Nowadays, that life couldn’t be more foreign to me. I don’t even own a pillow, let alone a closet. I work as an educational travel coordinator, and I live from hotel room to hotel room, couch to couch, and when I’m lucky, my parent’s spare bedroom. If I want it, I have to lug it. But therein lies the rub: I can’t give up my passion for fashion. So, despite the fact that I live on the road, I continue to have a lot of clothes, shoes and accessories.
My accessories were a mangled mess, tangled and mixed up to the point that I was only wearing three or four pairs of my own earrings. Yet, I continued to lug around the whole collection. What a waste of energy, and potential fashion opportunity.
The solution came not a moment too soon from my pioneering, Pinterest-loving, high school friend Giovanna. Over brunch one Saturday she said, “Peggy! Haven’t you seen my travel board? Pill organizers!”
And the rest, my friends, is history. My ears are now back to being as fashionable as the rest of my body. And not a moment too soon. Thank goodness.
If you liked this article, you might enjoy My Secret Packing Tips, where I originally shared my pillbox jewelry storage tip.
As the host of the oldest university in the western world, Bologna has been a second home for young people from across Europe for centuries. And with the saturation of young people comes the inevitable nightlife of those who don’t have morning meetings and people depending on them to make breakfast.
I’m one of those students that made my pilgrimage to Bologna, only to be charmed by the nighttime energy of this city. Only in Bologna does coming home at 3am on a Saturday night feel early. After five years of this, I’ve finally learned to prioritize my favorite places, and cut my nights short so I actually come home before sunrise. Sometimes.
The energy of the city is visceral, and therefore photographable. Instead of always wasting my nights away in laughter and Italian wine, I’ve started shooting instead. Or at least, taking a few minutes to shoot on my way home, ha! My new lens is a f/1.8, and the results have been fantastic. I hope you enjoy my meanderings through the streets of Bologna, seen below. And stay tuned for a vlog coming soon, featuring interviews with Bologna’s best bartenders!
Today is a special day in Italy. A holiday from work, a day spent relaxing with family and friends, enjoying the new season of warmer weather, and remembering the close of a dark period in Italian history.
April 25 is known in Italy as the Anniversario della Liberazione d’Italia, or the Anniversario della Resistenza. It was during these last weeks of April, 71 years ago, that one by one the cities of Northern Italy successfully renounced 20 years of fascist dictatorship, and five years of war. A friend of mine equated it to the 4th of July in the United States, as what was happening 71 years ago in Italy created the momentum for what would officially become Italy as we know it today, the Italian Republic, when the constitution was signed in 1948.
As an ex-patriot living in Italy, these holidays always catch me by surprise. Growing up in your own culture, holidays are tied to so many memories and anticipating them is second nature. But when you are living outside of your culture, none of these triggers exist and life from one day to the next is just one huge learning lesson.
Even though I’ve lived in Bologna for several years already, I’m still learning. I just found out from a friend that Bologna is an important destination for Italians celebrating this holiday. The city is full today – it is very exciting.
As an American, it is hard for me to understand the impact of a war happening in someone’s own backyard, and therefore, the significance of a holiday dedicated to the end of such a war.
I’ll never forget the afternoon that my English student, a Bologna police officer and a lover of history, showed me something in Bologna’s central square, Piazza Maggiore, that changed the way I look at this hub of activity and concentration of precious architecture in the center of the city.
We took a familiar path toward the piazza, one that I had walked hundreds of times, and he stopped me just as we were stepping up onto the center walkway.
“See here? Where the stone is missing? Do you know why it looks like this?”
I looked around. Strange, he was totally right. There were chunks of stone missing along this shallow curb that I had never noticed. But it wasn’t like that around the whole walkway, as far as I could see.
“Weird, I never notice,” I responded. “Why is it like that?”
“The tanks,” he responded. “From the war. They would damage the stone when they were rolling up onto the curb to go to the center of the piazza.”
I was flabbergasted. The war seemed so long ago, but this visible damage to the piazza in front of me made it so tangible. “Why didn’t they ever fix it? It has been so long!”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe they want to remember…”
In honor of today, I paid a visit to that curb, and took this picture. Turns out I wasn’t the only one with this idea. The gentlemen on the left side of the photo were doing the same thing. You can see the same clock tower in the background here as is pictured above the tank in the historical shot.
I’m discovering a little bit more every day how rich our pasts are, and how much there is to be found just below our footsteps. And most of all, I’m grateful to be included in today’s important festivities on this day of liberation in Italy. Here’s to many more to come!
I have a bit of a guilty conscience about the traveling I do. I think about my carbon footprint growing each time I get on an airplane. Trips to protected national and state parks also weigh on my conscience, reminding me of how fragile these ecosystems are, as their protection comes for a reason. In the same way, time spent on incredible beaches not yet visibly polluted by mankind feels like a luxury, yet at the same time, a responsibility. On the other hand, I am grateful for improvements in transportation that not only help us but also help the environment, like the wonderful train system in Europe, where each train service has a way of reminding me how much more environmentally conscious train travel is in respect to other options.
Overwhelmingly, though, my travels give me a simple love for the world, which I am celebrating today on Earth Day along with many of my fellow bloggers. The diversity and scope of this earth is hard to even compute in a logical way, and I am grateful to have my camera lens to use as a way of sorting through and putting together all of the pieces of our wonderful world.
The first pieces of my discoveries are those moments in my travel adventures that have been so big that they’ve taken my breath away, such as the enormous mountain landscape in the Rocky Mountain National Park,
and these giant trees that seem to almost dwarf the Washington Memorial,
or me emerging from Piazza San Marco and taking in the Adriatic Sea in Venice,
the valley that I love that falls below Assisi, which must have been such an inspiration for St. Francis,
the feeling of seemingly being on top of Rome,
the drama of the Italian Dolomiti,
the landscape of Utah,
or just a simple bend of the road on Highway 101 south of Santa Barbara that opens a whole other world.
Along with the “wow” moments are the moments of serenity that have given me the time to reflect on just how amazing the world can be, like Ojai’s incredible “Pink Moment” that I’m lucky to witness every year at the Ojai Playwrights Conference,
or the island of Ponza’s incredible sea,
and the beautiful countryside in the center of Salzburg,
and the equally enjoyable countryside just outside of Ben Wheeler, Texas,
as well as at the Chiemsee lake in Germany,
and Lake Como, Italy,
and at home in El Centro, California.
Perhaps my favorite moments on Earth are the ones that just grab me and make me happy to be alive, almost as if I’ve stepped into a bit of heaven, like here on the Lincoln Highway in Pennsylvania,
and at these enchanting gardens outside of Castelfranco Veneto,
and on my way down to the sea in Cinque Terre,
enjoying lunch with some of my favorite people in the hills of Bologna,
at the Mirabell Gardens in Salzburg,
taking in mountains and public art in Trento, Italy,
and the cherry blossoms blooming at Lake Como, Italy.
In addition to all of the glee and appreciation that I get from discovering all there is to appreciate about the world, there are also a lot of times when I am saddened by what I’m seeing happening to the earth. Luckily, I know I’m not alone in my frustration. These moments really overtake me when I’m visiting the big cities on the sea like Naples, where so much of the beauty is obscured by smog and buildings,
or when I’m reminded what’s happening under the sea,
or finding trash covered beaches in Puglia that makes me wonder what our American beaches would look like without the great volunteers and public money that keep them in better shape,
or finding big pieces of waste where you least expect them.
But my travels also show me what we are doing right. I am very respectful of the diligence that many Italians have with recycling all of their trash meticulously. Or the absolute attention that the Austrians give their environments, inside and out. And the hard work of architects to incorporate our necessary buildings into our beautiful environments. When it comes to architecture, I can think of no better example than Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater in Pennsylvania,
and in Siena, Italy, I experienced a similar harmony which was gorgeous, whether purposeful or not,
and not forgetting about the work of artists like this one on exhibit at Art Basel in Basel, Switzerland, who did such a great job of projecting our love and fascination with the creatures under the sea,
or these locals in Cesenatico, Italy, who created their own respect for the sea – the city’s economic livelihood – as a public art display for all to enjoy.
I hope that what has come through the lens of my camera has brought you a little bit of the emotion that these discoveries have brought to me…as well as a little reminder of what Earth Day means and the challenge in and importance of preserving these incredible places. Thanks for reading. 🙂