I Pretend to Live Here

Okay, it’s beautiful in the San Francisco Bay these days, but it’s also the end of summer, and I haven’t gotten a big trip in. I was daydreaming about what that trip would be and remembered a holiday my mother took a couple of years ago. If I were going to steal somebody else’s travel memories, I’d steal these. My mom’s friend and fellow schoolteacher, Nancy, decided to go to New York City for a summer, sublet a place, and pretend to be an artist in New York for a couple of months. My mom got inspired and joined in for a few weeks.

New York Holidays are always worth writing home about, but this was above and beyond. Unlike my sight-seeing fueled New York vacation, Nancy settled in as though she were home. She learned her neighborhood, found favorite out-of-the-way cafes, sampled markets. She bought groceries, used laundry mats, chatted with old ladies on the subway. And because Nancy’s an artist, she toured NYC’s art scene like a fiend. Galleries, museums, funky art shows–Nancy checked them out. She also makes jewelry, so she found shops to supply her and markets to sell her wares. And she dabbled in world-class art classes.

My mom jumped into this with a huge smile. She enjoyed all Nancy’s faux-insider knowledge. But more than that, she went fabric shopping. My mother loves to sew, and New York gave her a chance to tour the world via fabric. She bought up quirky polka dots cotton prints, raw silk remnants, imported textiles, flea markets finds and boutique-y clothe. And then she bought another suitcase.

“If I lived here, I’d just sew all the time,” she said. “I’d spend all my money.”

Nancy felt the same way about art and art supplies. But I think you could do that anything in New York. It has everything you need to indulge your dreams, whatever your passion might be. Foodies or sports fans, literary geeks or club kids, fashionistas or activists. Whatever you love, New York lets you dive into it big time.

I love my life here, but I wouldn’t mind a semi-extended stay in New York. It’s not that I want to live there. I just want to pretend I do.

Edinburgh!

Okay, honestly, prior to my trip to Scotland a few years ago, everything I knew about it came from Trainspotting. This isn’t exactly inspiring, but the soundtrack was great and I did want to see the Loch Ness monster, so off I went. I wasn’t thinking about castles, but I should have been. It wasn’t thinking about some of the best Indian food in the U.K., though Glasgow’s known for it. I definitely wasn’t thinking about hotels in Edinburgh city centre with swimming pool–heck, I didn’t know such things existed in the bustling city–but now I know better.

So let’s get the obvious out of the way. All those things exist. Plus beaches. Who knew about Scottish beaches? Incredible! I went in early spring, when it was wintry and stark and beautiful, but I do occasionally regret missing them in summer. (Though hotel-with-pool is probably a better bet for serious swimmers). In any case, though, Scotland has an eerie beauty, the kind that makes you want to read mystery novels and shiver and take a lot of photographs.

Then there’s art. Scottish museums do not disappoint, offering everything from history and art to religion and science. There’s also food, something little vegetarian me had not considered as an option. But in cities, plus all those curry spots, I ate well.

Most important of all, there are kilts. If you want to see kilts in action, you can go to a Scottish wedding, or you can go to Edinburgh. (Or both!) While in Edinburgh, I toured a kilt factory, saw quite a few folks wearing them, and then I went to a CASTLE. I really can’t stress the castle enough. There was nothing Trainspotting-like, except for the access to awesome music.

For the record, I did go to Loch Ness. On the way I saw the cutest woolie sheep ever. Nessie, however, was shy.

Cruising the Mediterranean

While enjoying my busy California life, I’ve been considering my next vacation. It’s hard to write about travel without itching to get on a plane. Though at the moment I’m not daydreaming about just a plane; I’m fantasizing about Mediterranean Cruises. I’ve never been on a cruise, though I have been to the Mediterranean more than once. My friends who have sampled the cruise ship life talk up it’s advantages. You get on the boat and then you don’t have to worry about anything but having a good time. No frantic rushes to the train station, no tracking down lodging, just beautiful water and floating from destination to destination.

My Mediterranean travels were a lot more hectic, but still gorgeous. I spent a month traveling around Italy a few years ago. Of course I went to all the standards and I dove headlong into the museums. It was like a crash course in art and history. I marveled at David, stared at The Birth of Venus, and even saw the Sistine Chapel. The art alone was worth the trip.

But you know why you really go to Italy? The food. Pasta, sure, but more importantly, artichokes, which were in season while I was there. Not to mention cheese, which served with fruit and honey is your dessert, or buffalo mozzarella with tomato slices and basil.  Then there’s the dreamy olive oil, the addictive coffee (I don’t even drink coffee in my normal life!), and all that gelato.  Seriously, I ate gelato every single day because there were just so many flavors. Plus, the pizza. Don’t just think round bread–think gorgeous square slices loaded up like crazy and available by weight for a couple of euros. Think pizza in Naples. Think saffron-and-orange risotto.  Oh, risotto, you are so labor-intensive but when served in Italy, you are so creamy and perfect.

Now set the whole thing against a stunning backdrop, sprinkle charm, and say it in Italian. It’s a little less fun when you’re trying desperately to get directions from the bus stop to your youth hostel, but still I have nothing but love. And of course, a lingering desire to pause, take a Mediterranean cruise, and sample every flavor of gelato.