Canals. Bikes. Amsterdam.

This is my favorite picture from Amsterdam. It was snapped from the basement gallery of the Amsterdam Tulip Museum, located in a canal house about 100 meters from the Anne Frank House. It was my second visit to the city, my last eleven years ago. In 1997, I was 20, traveling through the city on our way to Berlin; my green backpack was glued to me since we were only in town for a few hours, enough time to visit the Anne Frank House, make a quick visit to Rembrandt's House, and to scarf down some Chinese food. No Heineken Brewery. No Van Gogh. No art. Less than seven hours and back on the night train to Berlin.

I couldn't believe how much I forgot about Amsterdam--the canals, the ever friendly, English speaking (to the point of guilt) Dutch people, the diverse food. It's a city much more laid back than other European cities. Some may say this is due to some laxed substance laws, but it was a relief to not feel like you were walking the catwalk during Fashion Week as I felt from time to time in Paris last year.

The best trips have no itineraries

Last month I visited my friend Raegan in DC. It was kinda a last minute thing...I was waiting for just the right airfare...which never happened. But I was excited to catch up with Raegan who had been my roommate in Brookline for the last 7 years, up until June. We casually joked before I left that I "would do some research"...being an information professional...it's kinda my thing. And other friends asked me what I was going to do in DC, and I just replied, "coffee and shopping"...very uncharacteristic for me.
So, I left for my weekend in DC...changing planes in Newark, which I will do everything to avoid in the future. After 2 delayed departures in Boston, an hour on the tarmac at Logan, and a 2.5 hour delay in Newark for my connection, I was in DC. Thank goodness for once in my life I resisted the overpacking urge, and carried on. I read all 495 pages of Twilight while in transit, finishing the last page while landing at Reagan-National.
When I finally met up with Raegan, she was surprised to learn that I had done absolutely no research on DC. I had seen all the sights on multiple school trips, business trips, and vacations, and was kinda touristed out of DC. My Dad made sure to remind me 10 times before I left that the Smithsonian Museum of American History had just re-opened after a massive renovation, but that was just not on my radar.
So, what did I do for the 36 hours I was in DC? I had coffee and shopped, and ate great food at local places. Got a really cool hat at World Market. Bought the second Twilight book. Went to Loehmann's. Shopped pre-Christmas sales for ourselves. We bought wine in a beaker-type bottle. We watched fashion television. Walked all over Georgetown before decidicing on a place for dinner. Visited some "Irish" pubs--not sure if thye'd pass for Irish pubs in Boston. Overheard some really interesting conversations on the Metro explaining the difference between a "pimp" and a "whore enabler". We went to a great jazz brunch. Saw a Santa pub crawl and a real live walking Christmas tree (well, someone dressed up as one with presents to boot). We walked the National Mall. My one sole touristy thing was seeing the national Christmas tree. Check in that box.
And then it was time to go home, another Newark derailed trip, but luckily I got switched to a direct flight. I did a lot of unplanned and fun stuff...which is a big step for someone who has been dubbed the "master planner" by friends. The person who is handed the map, and figures out which metro line to take no matter the city. The attraction spreadsheet maker, currency converter, and translator.
It was not a matter of having plans, but a matter of being with friends...something that I've been slowly realizing over years of traveling with friends and with Jesse. When an innkeeper in Galway told me, "you've come to a door, but you haven't gone through it," upon hearing the regimented day I had planned to taking us (me, Louisa, Denise, and Glod) away from Connemara, the rustic, rural, picturesque area to the west, I stopped, and realized that traveling is about being flexible. Something that hasn't always come to me, the structure-lover. After a quick conference in our Ford Focus, the four of us were on our way to Connemara...abandoning our original plans. And I was ok with that--something changed in me that instant.
Traveling is not about how many museums, monuments, or battlefields you see (don't tell my Dad that), it's about enjoying the time with your companions, and just letting yourself adapt to a city, culture, country. And carrying-on whenever possible.A

Second hardest business trip to come home from...

The beach cliffs in La Jolla, CA....just a few short blocks from my dorm at UCSD (University of California-San Diego). After spending all day working with command prompts sans programmers, and worrying about saving electronic files for infinity, you needed to relax. And the beach was where you went. With fellow archivists. And we hiked the cliffs. (and celebrated our achievement with beverages in front of Asante House!)

San Francisco had warmer weather than La Jolla in July, but being sent to California twice in one summer is heaven on Earth!

The hardest business trip to come home from...

I'm still on West Coast time. My body still thinks it is in San Franciscio. I just got back from nine days in the most gorgeous weather I've ever experienced in California. I was there 5 days for a conference, and an extra 4 for a wee bit of rest and relaxation. Jesse flew out to join me on at the tail end of the business of portion.

My green backpack was able to join me for my second foray to the West Coast this year. In July I had a difficult time leaving San Diego, but this was worse. I stayed in the middle of the top ranked walking city in the US. I purchased my weeklong Muni pass on the second day I was there, and I was off riding the Muni underground, the F line streetcar, the cable cars, and the Muni buses. I walked the Embarcadero, up and down the steep hills of Hyde, Mason, and California streets; and paths of Golden Gate Park. I shopped at Zara (first time ever, and loved it!), and had my Jamba Juice. Jesse and I met my cousin for fondue at the Matterhorn, and had fantastic drinks in pineapples at the Tonga Room. We visited Alcatraz, City Lights bookstore, Muir Woods, and Sausalito. I couldn't believe how much of the city's geography I retained. From remembering the location of AT&T Park to Safeway in the Marina district that I bought groceries at seven years earlier, it was an eerie sense deja vu minus my Dad.

My flights worked out well. For years, I shied away from JetBlue in favor of miles and better times on American. I'm coming back to JetBlue on a regular basis. I few them to Seattle three years ago, and it was a good value. This trip was fantastic. I loved the tvs. I watched Samantha Brown and some What Not to Wear on TLC, and I was set. I also loved the free Doritos Munchies.

Oh, it was hard to leave the rainless, perfect temperature weather. And the clean Muni. And the Swedish pancakes at Sears. And of course Zara. A trip back will certainly be sooner than seven years...

Aller-Retour and Rochester

Just got in from a quick work trip to Rochester, NY. Home of Kodak, Xerox, and the Red Wings AAA team. I visited the Strong National Museum of Play. Seriously, it was all about play. There was a section all on Sesame Street, the International Toy Hall of Fame, and a Butterfly Garden with 38 varieties from around the world. And I went to my dinner and meeting.

Flying there was interesting. I carried on--first time ever since I always overpack. And sat next to the same person out and back. Random. The best part was I was at home in Brookline a half hour after landing at Logan.

Didn't bring my backpack...I needed a briefcase for my meeting. Probably the fastest flying trip I've ever taken. Fly in yesterday, leave today. Getting set for Indy in a few weeks....

Ahh..Paris. Even if it's in a maggie.

Gargoyles. Argh. I bought National Geographic Traveler tonight as an escape from the dreary Winter. I saw the feature on Paris on the cover, and I was eager to read all of tips on lodging, museums, and most importantly, the food. As I flipped the pages, there was an image taken from the top of Notre Dame cathedral with the gargoyles in the foreground, overlooking the Seine. It was the same image I saw just over a month ago. As I squinted at the picture, I could see the rugby/soccer shop where Jesse bought his jersey. The bright yellow canopy brightly set the shop apart from the river walls. I closed my eyes, and I was there, the cold, brisk wind blowing in my face, the gleaming mid-Winter sun drenching the observation desk.

Even as a I sat on the green line train engrossed in the article, reading each listing to see if I had visited it last month, I felt as if I was in Paris, just taking the Metro line 4 back to Boulevard du Raspail. So ready to reutrn...

first trip with another backpack....

I just got back from Paris. It was my first trip without my green backpack in 13 years. My purple one filled in just fine, providing appropriate storage for my carry-on junk (I'm a heavy packer!), my laptop, and other trinkets I carried to and from Paris.

Paris was fantastic. It was chilly, but not cold (around 45-50 degrees), and without the crowds of even shoulder season (Fall, when I was there last). January is the best time to come to Paris. The government mandated sales mean slashed priced at almost every store, from the high end boutiques to "les grands magasins"/department stores, to even smaller local specialty shops. The lines at attractions, if there were any, moved quickly.

I was very relieved that my French held up well in the city. Since we stayed in Montparnasse, an area in the 14th on the left bank, removed from many tourist areas, it gave me the chance to speak in French, not only for convenience, but for functioning. Three times I was complimented on my French, and the look of surprise on the peoples' faces was priceless when I said American.

The next trip I take to Paris, I hope to delve deeper into the less "touristy" spots of the city, since I've now covered all the "must sees" twice. Going back as an adult allowed me to explore all of the places that I missed during my last visit 10 years ago, when I was a naive 19/20 year old backpacker.

When I arrived at home, my green LL Bean backpack was waiting for me. It had been repaired in Maine, and sent back to me. New zippers, new zipper tabs. Same old backpack. It's been to Paris once, maybe its next trip will be somewhere new.