The Magic Begins

 We arrive in London exhausted and  crabby.  Since I am with Bill,  Mr. Public Transportation,  taking a taxi or an Uber to our hotel from the airport is out of the question.  After what seems like an eternity, we finally get to our hotel by train and tube with  significant help from several kind English people who must perceive us as old and tired.  Our room is not ready even though it is 4 P.M.  We are offered coffee or tea while we wait. I chose a cappuccino which could be the best one of my life. Not sure if it's the jet lag or reality that makes me think so.   Our room becomes available shortly. We gratefully collapse on the bed, even more grateful for the powerful air conditioning. We might never leave the room except we are starving. I find an Indian restaurant close by.  Tomorrow we are meeting a dear family friend for lunch. I put my head on my pillow and look forward to seeing him again.

Next day, back on public transportation which is starting to seem less charming and offers of help less forthcoming without our suitcases, we get to Kensington without too much trouble.  Waking through Kensington Gardens, we spot comfy looking sling back chairs calling our names.  We still have a couple of hours before we meet our friend, so why not sit down and relax?  The answer comes in the form of a woman with a security vest and a  clip board. If we want to sit in these chairs, we must pay four pounds per person per chair. What?????  Normally,  we would have vacated those chairs immediately, but we are still so travel weary, we actually agree. So out comes the credit card. For four pounds, we get to sit for an hour. Bill spends the time happily reading a book. I play a word game on my phone. The time passes quickly. We stroll through the park. According to our phones, the restaurant looks close by. It takes  us an hour to find it. i Our GPS is as lost as we are.  We enjoy lunch with our friend and decide to head back to our hotel.

Again, it looks like another easy walk from the train station.  Well, it isn't. Bill is getting so stressed out that he is walking way ahead of me. My feet are killing me, and I desperately need to lie down in my powerfully air conditioned hotel room.  In annoyance, I demand that Bill hold my hand to prevent him from stress walking ahead. A man in a pink shirt seems to be staring at us. What now? Does it cost  4 pounds to cross this street?  He approaches us quietly. "Excuse me. It is so rare to see couples like you (older couples) holding hands. It is really wonderful."  He sure picked the wrong moment to make that comment. "Actually, I say. I am ready to strangle him.  We have been married for 44 years." The man says that his wife wants to strangle him all the time too. He has been married almost as long as us.Then off he goes without even offering to help us find our way.

That encounter lightens our mood.  It seems both miraculous for its timing and irony. At last, we make it back to our powerfully air conditioned room.  Below is a picture of a special lady taken in Kensington Gardens. 

Queen Victoria

The Frick Museum and Other New York Pleasures

 I spent the day before the bridal shower (see last post) exploring the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  By the time I got to the city from my son Michael's house, I was ready for lunch. Lunch can be tricky in this  upscale part of the city.  Plenty of restaurants with white tablecloths abound, but not for me traveling solo and simply. Instead I focused on finding a deli and hopefully a pastrami sandwich.  Luckily one popped up in my Google search.  The restaurant took only cash which was fine. The narrow space it housed barely accommodates `parties of three. I got a seat immediately and ordered my pastrami sandwich on rye with coleslaw and a pickle.  The sandwich fell a bit short of my idea of a New York pastrami sandwich, but the deli atmosphere made up for it. The server kindly served me five glasses of water. I get really thirsty when traveling. Below is a picture of my pastrami sandwich.

pastrami on rye with a pickle

Bonus Photo: Pizza in Connecticut

A True Delight

In July, niece Catherine and partner will tie the knot in London where they currently live. We celebrated Catherine at her bridal shower near her family's home in Newport,Rhode Island this past weekend. Catherine is a brilliant bubbly 36 year old professional. The bridal shower guest list included college friends from law school, four aunties, the groom's mom, and an assortment of close  female family members. Dressed in a pretty pink sparkly whimsical dress, Catherine floated serenely into the restaurant. Upon spotting each friend from college  however, she let out a joyful scream. I found this rather adorable.  While we waited for our food to arrive, bride to be  Catherine took the time to carefully introduce each of us. The intros reminded me of a who's who of accomplished women. What would my niece Catherine say about me I nervously wondered?  How well does she even know me?  Well, she managed to mention my career teaching French and deemed me an amazing knitter.  Evidently, she has not checked out my latest sweater project. Every five minutes I scream, but not in the least joyfully, for my knitting teacher Mary's help.

       Our restaurant  Aurelia which boasts a Forbes and  Relais et Chateaux  mention  did not disappoint.

mixed greens salad

lobster roll with onion rings and fries

four chocolate cake 

I enjoyed every bite, and between every bite I tried my best to make conversation with the mother of the groom who is as bubbly and beautiful as the bride.  Place fifteen women in one room, and the volume goes sky high.  Even higher when the bride to be resumes screaming again with joy as she opens her presents.

I spent a long time choosing a gift for Catherine.  Something lovely, heartfelt, and meaningful  does not come  easily to mind.  At the only other bridal shower I attended, the bride's mother gave her a onesie.  The girlfriends presented her with intimate lingerie. From me, she received a nightshirt with something goofy written about coffee, which seemed appropriate at the time. 

Back to my gift dilemma for Catherine. I spent hours looking at jewelry. With no clue as to what Catherine prefers, I sleuthed out her Facebook posts and any pictures I could find online. Sterling silver  was spotted in several of her images.  Ok, but what exactly in sterling silver?  Free association came to the rescue. A bridal shower evokes love, romance, tenderness. She needed  a keepsake. Ah ha! A locket! My illicit best friend Amazon offered too few quality options.  I turned to Etsy. A few sterling silver lockets big enough to hold a picture of Catherine and her beloved caught my eye. The vendor sent it to me accompanied by a more casual  second locket  as a thank you gift. In each locket lives a little dried flower waiting to be replaced with a picture. I added a homemade card of good wishes. Catherine screamed as she opened the card and the locket. Nailed it!

Another Day In Paradise

Wake up and open the balcony door. It's warm and humid, not necessarily sunny until later in the day.  First up, breakfast at the buffet and sitting at the family table. This brings me joy. Delicious food and good company.  At first, I try to stick to my usual breakfast routine: Greek yogurt with crunchy toppings. I do try a croissant, but find it lacking in flakiness.  The next day I take eggs and a piece of brie. After that, I  tell myself  I am on vacation and  eat whatever I like. I am after all exercising  daily, doing aqua aerobics and the occasional hike. Most of all the food is so good, so many new Caribbean dishes to try, including Club Med signature dishes, and the delightful sorbet and ice cream station. Oops, I almost forgot about the open bar. On our last day, one of my cousins calculates that we  eat three courses at every meal. Of course, we all know this in our stomachs , but hearing it said out loud makes us burst out in hysterical laughter. We collectively anticipate food withdrawal at the end of the Club Med experience. That proves to be the case.

During my stay, I enjoy consulting the Club Med app because activities,  times, and locations are listed for each day. In the evening, the app announces the dress code for dinner: tropical or white or pink and beige, blue and white or  just plain elegant. White night feels especially enchanting as club members  look like little sparkling angels. Although dress code is not mandatory, I find it entertaining to see what my vacation wardrobe could provide, and it does surprisingly adequately provide.

The staff at Club Med tends toward friendliness and politeness with the exception of the Bureau of Beach Towels. Located in the central lobby near the pool, the Bureau of Beach Towels staffs a person to give out two towels per room number.  Without fail, each time I approach the bureau, I am told my room number is not on the list. Then a rather terse interrogation begins about the length of my stay and towel usage. I rename the Bureau, the Bureau of Bitchies because honestly this little game gets annoying fast. In fact, I decide to avoid the Bureau of Bitchies completely by promenading to the Zen area of the Club where towels  live unmonitored in spiritual harmony. 

In stark contrast,  I am treated like a queen in the dining room. One server whose food station I particularly like starts to call me "my cherie" so pleased is he by my appetite for his creations.  I expect a marriage proposal the next day.

Here are some views from the coastal hike Bill and I took. A much harder  hike than anticipated, one younger cousin's hand kept me upright during the rocky uphill climb in my Jazzercise shoes.

At Club Med in Guadeloupe- oh la la la la la la

 The back story:  September 2024 :  I am eating  an early lunch with my cousin in Manhattan who happens to mention that his family is planning a trip to Club Med Guadeloupe in January. My eyes light up.  I can't help myself. It's Club Med in Guadeloupe!!!  Since childhood,  my dreamy fantasy is to  experience Club Med: comfortable lounge chairs, intriguing people, fun activities: No planning, no shlepping, no trains to catch in the wee hours of the dawn. Just relaxation and bliss.

My cousins reads my mind. "Why don't you come?" Does he mean it? I ask him to send me the details feeling sure he will never remember to do so. He does. His sister sends me an encouraging text. So they do mean it. Okay.  Let me check airfares. Not only do I experience sticker shock during my initial airfare  search, I feel certain the fantasy trip ends here. Moreover, the estimated time to get to Guadeloupe clocks in at about 48 hours. 

Another dilemma named "Would Bill go with me?" looms large.  Do I want to travel all that way alone? How would I fit in with these cousins whom I rarely see and don't know that well?  I decided to let it be for a while. I would take a sneak peak at air fares now and again only to be continuously horrified. My cousins inquire periodically about my decision. Everything depends on airfares I report choosing  not to share other misgivings.  After a couple of months, airfares begin to drop. Misgivings do not. But Club Med... But Guadeloupe where French is spoken and palm trees abound. I decided to discuss this situation with son  Daniel who astutely asks me repeated questions about how badly I wanted the Club Med and Guadeloupe experience. He strongly feels I should not go alone, suggesting asking  Dad/Bill one more time. Amazingly, Bill says yes. 

Our  reliable dog sitter puts Maggy on her calendar.  Bill and I  finally get out our laptops to book. As it makes sense to visit Michael and Erin after Guadeloupe, my trip would be 10 days longer than Bill's. He would fly home earlier to be with Maggy. 

Packing for a tropical vacation  followed by January in New York City feels daunting. I decide to prioritize  summer dresses, swim wear, exercise clothing, then compression bag my favorite cozy sweater, light weight winter coat, a soft  black cardigan , and heavy tights.  My red hat and scarf are already waiting for me in Brooklyn as well as a pair of winter boots, a gray turtleneck, and a warm night gown courtesy of Amazon. 

We take a very long overnight flight to Miami and meet up with our  East coast cousins at the gate for the flight to Pointe a Pitre, Guadeloupe in the morning. An airline that will not be named keeps us waiting on the ground for two hours as late comers are permitted to make the one and only flight to Guadeloupe that day. Our cousin group consists of five people over fifty, four youngsters in their twenties and one 18 month old baby who keeps saying no indiscriminately. His mother is about six months pregnant. Luckily, patience seems to be a family trait.

Arriving at the Pointe a Pitre airport, we find ourselves in a party atmosphere.  Miss Guadeloupe 2024 who will be on her way to compete in the Miss France competition in 2025 is in the house. Surrounded by Miss Guadeloupe  dancers and cheering fans, we perk up a bit after our long voyage.  But with all the extra crowds and noise, we struggle to find the Club Med representative. A very nice airport rep calls the club for me , then leads me to the Club Med desk.

A shuttle transports all of us and our luggage to Club Med. En route,  I notice large billboards in French which are not usually done in France. Guadeloupe is a French overseas territory. The people speak  a Creole dialect of French (challenging for me to understand), use euros, drive cars with French license plates, vote in French elections, and eat a French diet with a Creole twist. 

As we pull up onto the Club Med  property, about twelve Club Med GOs  (gentils organisateurs) greet us with big smiles and enthusiasm. This tickles me, reminding me of some TV show whose name I have long forgotten. We get our club bracelets not to be removed until the end of our stay.  It opens our room due to some nifty technology and allows us access to the dining area, the beach, and  all Club Med activities. More on how Club Med works in my next post. Below enjoy some of our initial  views of Guadeloupe.

Lower East Side Food Tour

 We met our guide Jack at the famous Katz's Deli where a mile high pastrami sandwich will set you back $40. It is big enough for two to share and does come with a pickle. Almost everyone in restaurant  was eating one. Our tour guide brought us a platter of pastrami, rye bread, and pickles for our group of eight: two young women from Germany, a couple from Scotland, a mom and two teenage sons from Atlanta, and me. After this first stop, the guide offered us delectable raspberry rugalach from Russ and Daughters, the first business in NYC to put daughters instead of sons in their business name.

We walked a few more blocks to a local Dominican restaurant, El Castillo de Jagua  where we sampled plantains, fried cheese, pickled onions, eggs, and sausage accompanied by a drink which in Spanish means to die from dreams. The drink tasted like an orange Creamsicle.  I would definitely return.

At the Essex Formaggio in the classy Essex Market we savored Grey Owl goat cheese from Québec, So creamy and tangy! My thoughts flew to my cheese tasting tour in France this summer. What is life without good cheese, I ask you?

Our tour guide Jack fed us the fascinating history of the lower East Side as we walked and tasted. I appreciated learning about the role of Jewish immigrants in the neighborhood.  My father used to take me to the Yiddish Théâtre which played a key role in the Jewish Community until the Jews started moving to the suburbs. 

The rest of the tour passed quickly. At The Pickle Guys, Jack surprised us with pickled pineapple. Nobody jumped up and down for that one. We noted they pickle everything from turnips to okra to lox. The cake donuts at Donut Plant

Pastrami anyone?

Dominican  Deliciousness

Gorgeous Goat Cheese

Pickled everything

and the bagels and bialys at Kossar's  found a lot more fans.

My new friend from Scotland and I agreed on the excellent variety of the food we tasted and the  preparation of the well informed tour guide with his magic backpack full of paper plates, napkins, and water bottles.

Oops, I almost forgot Economy Candy specializing in the old fashioned candy we all grew up with. What was your favorite?

I thoroughly recommend this tour the next time you get to New York. What a fun and yummy way to explore the lively neighborhood of the Lower East Side! Enjoy the photos.

Travel After France : New York City

 I get off the plane and the melting pot that is New York City greets me.  The taxi  from the airport pulls up to Michael and Erin's door located in a  lively Dominican neighborhood.  I unpack and decide to take the first cultural plunge into the bodega on the corner. My goal is to find white corn meal. Last evening I baked Jimmy Carter's corn bread recipe from my new cookbook, Baking in the American South by Ann Byrn. This cookbook is a treasure: each recipe is preceded by a story, a legend, a glimpse into the history of the South.   President Jimmy Carter did not bake this cornbread, but his White House Chef did. White corn meal, yellow corn meal, butter, flour, baking powder, milk  and an egg. The recipe could not be simpler except for the difficulty finding white corn meal.  Bill luckily found it at Fred Meyer in Beaverton.  To my great surprise, the corner bodega does not carry it. Now I am on a mission to find white corn meal somewhere in NYC so I can bake Jimmy Carter's Cornbread for Michael and Erin before returning to Oregon.

After the bodega, I walk over to the park. Although the neighborhood  feels so different, the rhythm of the 5 P.M. hour feels the same.  Tired looking people carrying shopping bags head home.  Dog walkers talk to their pets.  Smiley kids ride bikes.  Blue Amazon  trucks make deliveries. As I stroll deeper into the park, I

Soccer in the Park

Basket Ball Fun

Houses on nearby Ocean Hill

The Corner Bodega

am pleased to see all the tennis courts in use as well as the soccer and basket courts.  But wait,  something is missing. There are no soccer moms, maybe a few soccer dads or are they the coaches? A couple of women are setting up a snack stand with dried mango. Definitely a different vibe now. I also notice I am the only white woman in the park except for a few tennis players.  

Back at the house, I wait for Erin and Michael to return from work. They work so hard those two and still remain the most amazing compatible couple ever.  We eat one of Erin's delicious  healthy home cooked dinners. My heart hums with joyful relief knowing Erin takes such good care of Michael. To witness this again and again makes the trip to NYC worth it.