Robyn's Wanderings

Heading to Bruges!

“Sorry I thought the room was on the garden?”

“I don’t want any trouble. If you don’t like the room you can go. Just go, I don’t want any trouble.”

Whoa! I had not realized I had been so offensive, but I did realize I had met the one person in Bruges, Belgium who should not be in tourism – the hostess at the B&B I had booked.

I didn’t want to stay, but I knew how dangerous it was to arrive in Bruges without a place to rest my head. When I tried to visit in 1999, I was told by the Tourism Office all of the rooms were full!

Unlike Antwerp (where we were last week in the Rock Fever Column), Bruges with its canals and medieval vibe, is built into every travel agency’s European package.

And, though I hate to do this for the Rock Fever column….we’re going to join them (ok, not really on a tour, but tourist mecca) and we are going to book ahead!

Am I getting old? Perhaps. I usually plan my trips along the way i.e. with two-day’s notice and I usually try to stay away from the tourist traps.

Unfortunately Bruges, evil hostess aside, is not a place to show-up unprepared and it is definitely a town everyone should visit.

Luckily, with the booked B&B not an option and with bit more money than my college years’ visit 12 years before, the tourism office (which is near the centre) could book me and my travel buddy a place.

And just for future reference, the Bruges tourism office is also available online to book rooms for you, so even with bustling Bruges you can find somewhere to stay before arriving!

Why is this place so busy? Well that’s all history. After Bruges witnessed it’s economic peak in the 1300’s, anyone could understand if the town lost some of it’s medieval luster.

Instead, as the Zwin channel, which had provided Bruges access to the sea started silting up and the economy turned to Antwerp, people left the city. Without people to mess with the architecture, Bruges maintained its medieval looks, is now home to about 120,000 people and could easily win a European city beauty contest.

Cruising the Canals of Bruges. Photo by Robyn Skinner

Which really brings me to the crux of this column this week’s column:

Bruges is a destination for couples. Honestly, without the pomp of Paris (or the price tag), Bruges is just so darn cuddly with it’s tiny cobblestones, canals, brick bridges and shops that’s all you will want to do there.

How long should you stay?

Well after extricating ourselves from the poor introduction to Bruges, me and my travel buddy decided to stay for three nights. Honestly, Bruges can be “done” in a day or three (like us), but it just depends on your travel style. Me? I prefer to travel slower, take-in the city, get some shopping done and truly enjoy all of the gastronomic benefits on offer i.e. be able to have dinner in that cute, candle-lit restaurant I kept passing all day.

Other benefits to traveling slower? How about chocolate? Yes, Belgium is filled with it, but Bruges seems to take it to a new level. Here, chocolate shops are like Starbucks anywhere else in the world; one on every corner and if you travel slower…..well you get to eat more.

Chocolate with bacon? Bruges has everything!! Photo by Robyn Skinner

Bruges is also home to a chocolate museum! The Choco-story is more than a room where they charge you eight euros to enter and offer you a piece of chocolate. The four-story building offers a guided tour of the beginning of chocolate both historically and manufacturing wise. And then of course a free chocolate at the end after you watch the chocolatier make it! How cool?

If that is not cool and salty is, have no fear! Bruges is also the home of The Friet Museum (French Fries of course!) If it’s not chocolate or fries, then waffles are a must-have and Bruges like other Belgium cities, has no shortage of any of these indulgent choices. The best place to enjoy them is the Markt (market) square with its Stadhuis (town hall) and milling crowds.

After my travel buddy indulged in a waffle and me in chocolate, we decided a tour of the Belfry Tower, which also overlooks the Markt square, was needed for the exercise agenda. With 366 steps to the top, a checkered past that included the tower burning down and then being hit by lightening, the Belfry also offered us a chance for an amazing view of the entire town.

Bruges' Belfry Tower providing exercise and an amazing view!

Afterwards we found our dizzy way down the stairs and ourselves looking at the equivalently confusing constructions by Salvador Dali in the random, little, Museum-Gallery XPO below the tower.

After Dali, we had to find the next interesting spot in Bruges, the Basilica of the Holy Blood. Originally the chapel was built for the residence of the Count of Flanders and now it houses a relic of the Holy Blood. Whatever your religious leanings, it was definitely a different type of visit in a slightly spooky setting.

Which brings me to the beauty of visiting Bruges: beyond the enchanting cobblestones, hidden alleys and eating chocolate, the town also provides canals, which invoke the sense of Venice, Italy and further enforcing why Bruges should be visited.

Of course if you don’t have time to visit Belgium’s next door neighbour, then Bruges also offers windmills right on its edge.

Watching the windmills outside the centre of Bruges

About a ten minute walk from the centre will bring you to these symbols of the Netherlands. Peaceful lying outside of the tourist trap, the Coelweymolen windmill sits next to the St. Janshuismolen windmill and both are across from a pub aptly named Windmill! This old pub was also the perfect way to watch the sunset on Bruges before traipsing back to the centre for yet another gourmet dinner at another of Bruges ubiquitous, ten-table eateries.

Honestly if we had not headed back to the hotel (evil hostess forgotten) I would not have moved on to next week’s Rock Fever Column: Amsterdam! It’s more than just coffee houses….I promise.

What's that swimming in your luggage?

What should I pack? Hmmm…. shirts, shoes, pants and…..my spare fish?

Apparently, fresh fish was a must-have for one passenger traveling through Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport yesterday.

He/she packed it in his/her checked luggage to come to America. I guess the trip didn’t work-out well for all involved because the bag, spice fish and all, was left at the airport!

So at noon yesterday, in one of the busiest airports in the United States, baggage handlers started looking through the abandoned bag for identification of the owner.

Leaves and aluminum foil, however, stopped them in their tracks and a bomb squad was called!

What did they find? Well fish wrapped in banana leaves of course!

Apparently Police were not surprised by the find. The Police explained that passengers often try to spice their fish during their trip.

Who can blame the unidentified passenger?

I don’t like the plane food either, but how did he or she retrieve it from the check luggage?

Questions continue!

Do these abbreviations mean anything to you: DH, CF, SS, E, RBI? That’s what our wanderer Nicola Arnold wants to know.

So do you? Well, if you’re going to travel to Toronto, the United States and….well anywhere that baseball is a passion then, as Nicola found-out, these terms are necessary reading:

If you never forget your first love (insomuch as it applies to sports), then my first love always was & always will be tennis. Although… it has to be said that “in tennis, love means nothing” [FYI: "love" indicates a score of zero]. Apart from being courted by tennis, squash and badminton for the better part of 10 years, my dreams came true in 2005 when my aunt took me to the Wimbledon tennis tournament. We sat on Henman Hill (or is it Murray Mount?) and came THISCLOSE to Serena Williams after her match. Score!

Tennis courts right in our backyard in Bermuda... also perfect for stargazing

But we digress. Friends, I never thought this day would come. I’m falling for baseball… and it came completely out of left field!

Baseball and I never had much of a relationship, but we did share a few common interests. Growing up in Bermuda, I knew little to nothing about baseball. What I did glean about this American pastime came from entertainment, pop culture & various holidays:

- children’s classic 90′s movies: The Sandlot, Rookie of the Year, Angels in the Outfield
- a family holiday in NYC when we saw the revival of the Broadway musical Damn Yankees
- knowing of Babe Ruth, or the great Bambino… but preferring to turn my attention to the Baby Ruth instead
- another family trip, when teenage Katie & Nicola were treated to their first baseball game in Oakland, California, home of the Oakland Athletics

Let's play ball at the Rogers Center... aka Toronto Skydome

Fast forward to August 2011. On an overnight stay in Toronto, my friend Cat invited me to a ball game, the Toronto Blue Jays vs. Boston Red Sox. During my recent visit to Boston I passed by the legendary home of the Sox, Fenway Park, but I must admit that I did not stop to admire it. However, going back to my baseball invite, I am of the opinion that you a) never turn down an invitation and b) don’t knock it til you try it. Depending on the situation, of course. The Jays lost that night… but it was an exciting atmosphere, I knew the basics, and my friend is a super-fan so she filled me in on the rest!

A weekend game in the afternoon sunshine

So where am I now in my relationship with baseball? After moving to Toronto last Wednesday, I attended a home game every night from Friday til Thursday (against both the New York Yankees & the L.A. Angels) I was in a bookstore on Friday and I spent 15 minutes scouring the baseball shelves of the Sports section… and no, I did not return home with Baseball for Dummies.

For the most skeptic people out there, my “Top 5 reasons to enjoy a baseball game” may convince them to give it a shot:

Which is better - the Frog & Onion Bermuda t-shirt, or the baseball yarmulke head cover? I cannot decide!

Atmosphere – You know those places where you walk in and you know the “atmosphere” is right? Well, the baseball stadium is one of those places. Even for a newbie! From the face paint to the catchers’ mitts, from the toddlers to the 91 year-old celebrating her birthday, baseball fans proudly flaunt their love of the game. The collective crowd cheer is also rather amusing… as the ball soars into the air, a collective “YAYYY!!” can quickly turn into an “Awww…” as the outcome is a foul ball [read: a dud].

Jumbotron – The big screen over the outfield, where all the magic happens – player stats, birthday shout-outs, and most importantly, crowd scanning! Cat has been on the jumbotron 6 times this summer, but last week she made her first sign on a bright pink poster board that helped us make a guest appearance on the ‘tron! It’s exciting to make it up there and it’s hilarious to see other people’s reactions on-screen. Only thing more entertaining would be a “kiss cam”… then again, a friend of mine had an awkward experience sitting next to her cousin when the kiss cam panned on them!

One way to successfully get yourselves on the Jumbotron...

Music – Tuesdays are “Twitter Tuesdays” when you can tweet in song requests during the game. Players on the home team walk up to the plate to their own theme song. Around the 7th inning, there are songs for the crowd to rock out to – stretch, dance, or some other ambiguous movements! Music engages the crowd to clap, cheer and root. Of course, everyone gets the chance to sing “Take me out to the ball game“…. replacing “home team” with the Blue Jays”!

Novelty – The Toronto games start at 1:07 and 7:07pm. Strange! Despite the overpriced food and drink,  we all still indulge in hot dogs, peanuts and beer. In fact, one of the coolest beers was from the “bottom-up” beer stall where the plastic cup has a hole on the bottom. The beer is filled upwards and a magnetic disc seals it in. Plus… you drink it out of a straw. What’s not to enjoy?! Also, on weekend games, they count the number of strikes against the visiting team, and 7 strikes gets everyone in the Roger’s Center a free slice of pizza. I can bear witness!

Swag – Free stuff. Everyone loves game swag: you can text-in for the chance to win a Blackberry phone, have free t-shirts thrown at you, or a foul ball may just end up being yours if you catch it before your neighbours! We were sitting in the 5th section (aka steerage) when a guy in the front row of our section caught a ball in his cap… you never know what’s going to happen!

Convinced? Hope so!

And so the sun sets on another summer of baseball!

Oh, and those abbreviations - DH, CF, SS, E, RBI – stand for designated hitter, center field, shortstop, errors and runs batted in.

Antwerp's Stadhuis (town hall)

Ships forced to pay a giant’s fee?

That giant’s hand being chopped and thrown into the river Scheldt?

Gruesome? A kid’s tale?

Both and Rock Fever’s destination this week: Antwerp, Belgium and visit my photo gallery here.

According to the city’s legend, a giant called Antigonus used to exact tolls from all ships passing the city along the Scheldt river. Tired of this toll, a Silvius Brabo tore-off Antigonus’ hand and threw it into the river and thereby naming the city “hand-throw” or Antwerp.

There is now a statue to Brabo in the centre of Antwerp and, though the giant may be of legend, Antwerp was, in fact, the city that managed to end taxes along the river.

The River Scheldt flows through Antwerp

It was just as tax-less to arrive in Antwerp from the Schipol Airport in Amsterdam. Why was I coming from the Schiphol Airport?

As you may, or may not know, I am traveling through the Netherlands and Belgium for three weeks and after finishing one week divided between Haarlem and the Hague it was time to visit Belgium (don’t worry I wouldn’t dream of leaving without visit Amsterdam!) My travel buddy was arriving from Bermuda, so we met at Schiphol where we could jump on a train to Belgium. Easy.

Only have a week to travel? Enjoy speaking Dutch before crossing the border for all the chocolate and beer you can handle. What more can you ask for?

So why Antwerp? I had been to Brussels before. I wasn’t impressed. Logistically, Antwerp, which is Belgium’s “second” city and the de facto capital of Belgium’s Flemish North, was also 50 km north of Brussels i.e. closer to Schiphol.

Two hours by train from Amsterdam and sitting on a river and prime trade spot, Antwerp had attracted many of the well-known trading families such as the Habsburgs, in the 15th Century. Antwerp, which was a protestant city, also survived the onslaught of Catholic Philip II, who inherited Spain and the Low Countries, the rebuilding of the port by Napoleon and WWII where both sides bombed the city.

Now, the city is dripping in diamonds and decorated by the innovative fashion designers that inhabit the varied old and new houses. I’m not a fashionista nor do I care much for diamonds, but I had also heard it was a gritty and impressive city so I needed to check it out.

Antwerp's neo-Baroque train station

Still not buying my reasons for Rock Fever’s destination this week? Well I can give you another ten! And I will start with Reason one: the Antwerp City Card, purchased from the tourist office (though it can be purchased online), cost us about €31 and gave us free access to museums, churches and great discounts to various attractions (including the Zoo)! What could be better?

How about a discount on chocolate? Oh, yes the card does that too from various stores. Before I could consider indulging in the sweet that Belgians go through by the kilos every year, however, I have to give you reason two: a visit to the gothic Cathedral of our Lady (or Onze Lieve Vrouwekathedraal). The Cathedral, the spires of which can been seen from most places in Antwerp, was also right next to the tourist office in the centre. Inside, the seven-aisled nave offers enough room to four paintings by Antwerp’s homeboy, Pieter Paul Rubens, so religious or not, the Cathedral offers a beautiful viewing.

Reason three: Antwerp’s Grote Markt, which has the Brabo Fountain, a pile of roughly sculpted rocks and surmounted by a bronze Silvius Brabo.  Remember him from the intro? The Grote Markt is also home to the Stadhuis or city hall, which offers a counterpart to the Cathedral opposite.

Rubens hanging inside Antwerp's Cathedral

Around the Grote Markt are also the restored Guild houses with sixteenth century reliefs with finely cast, gilded figures and reason three: cafes after cafes, where you can sit and enjoy an overprice coffee while watching the crowds and carriages carrying fellow tourists. The view is worth the extra Euros.

From the Grote Markt it is time for reason four and the journalist in me to visit the Museum Plantin-Moretus. This is the mansion of the printer Christopher Plantin, who rose to fame during the 1500’s when he was awarded the printing missals for the entire Spanish Empire by King Philip II. The mansion also includes some of the oldest printing presses and the famous 36-line bible of Johannes Gutenberg, the inventor of the moveable type printing. I’m a print geek.

Old Printing Presses

Of course Antwerp is more than old buildings and printings, which is reason five and the four-day Bolleke de Konnick Beer Festival! This festival held outside in front of the Royal Fine Art museum honours Belgium’s well-known beer, while also offering cuisines from around the world to soak it up. The festival is an annual event in August that brings city dwellers out for one last, summer party!

After indulging in corn and not beer at the festival, (being a celiac in Belgium is not easy) it was time to find some food. Luckily, Antwerp is nothing if it’s not reason six and filled with lovely restaurants, cafes and bars (even for celiacs).

Of course you could take your pick in Groenplaats, the open square that is behind the Cathedral and used to be the municipal graveyard (though hopefully all the bodies have been removed), but I found the history slightly off-putting.

Luckily reason seven is the twisting corridors of Antwerp’s tiny streets stretching from the Groenplaats to the river Schedlt that are filled with everything from expensive cafes to homey restaurants filled with Belgian specialties including beef cooked in beer and veg with mashed potatoes.

Entrance to Antwerp's Zoo

Reason eight to visit this lovely town, is there is not enough time to visit everything! There is so much to do that the three days I spent in Antwerp were barely enough time to visit the Zoo (so large and filled with everything from gorillas to elephants, I almost forgot I was in a city) to the Meir (a pedestrian street filled with shops) to Rubens’ house (actually successful during his living years, Ruben had a beautiful house/studio in the centre of Antwerp), this city is spilling-over with things to do.

Which brings me to reason nine and the innovative edge of the city. It starts with the designers everywhere to the recently built, the Museum aan de Stroom (MAS). A modern, red-brick building with a facade that is interwoven with clear waved walls throughout to offer a stunning view of Antwerp, it also offers a historical tour of the city. The panoramic view of Antwerp from the top of the MAS, however, was the best part of the entire visit.

MAS

Finally, Antwerp is fantastic because it does not have tourists! Ok, it does have tourists and a great B&B offering if you want to go, but it is not Disneyland. People actually work and live in this thriving city as is clear by the designer clothing stores, the gourmet restaurants and innovative architecture. The locals are building things for themselves, and not to attract tourists!

After throwing-off the “gritty” title usually afforded Antwerp, it was time to head to somewhere that does, unfortunately offer the tourist everything they want: Bruges. Enjoy photos on www.robynswanderings.com and until next week I say: Tot ziens.

Alcatel for $39.00!

Bermudians are many things and one of those “things” is hosts. The island is always inundated with family and friends who travel long distances to stay for free in our homes.

Otherwise we sometimes (and there should be more) these travelers choose guest houses. Even Cruise Ships. The problem is, that when these visitors come from so far away they still want to stay in touch with home.

So what are you supposed to do with the guest who comes to Bermuda and forgot to bring their phone or is so worried about roaming that they never use it?

You could buy a Sim Card, but then that’s a waste if the person doesn’t have a phone that works in Bermuda.

The other option? Cell One has come-up with this great phone plan for any visiter: $2.50 unlimited text and calling service on a daily basis.

How does it work? Good Question.

Step One: Buy a phone like the Alcatel OT-355, which costs $39.00. Of course there are plenty of other phones to choose from and before you do visit here to see the prepaid options!

Step Two: Because the phone automatically comes with $10 credit you can start using it right away. Even better? The phone is yours to keep, which is great for guest houses and Bermudians with plenty of visitors to reuse these devices.

Step Three: Any day that a text or phone call is made then the $2.50 is automatically deducted and the phone user can then communicate to an unlimited amount.

Don’t use the phone for a day? Don’t get charged!

If you are texting overseas then there will be an additional charge, however, all local calls/texts will be free after the initial $2.50.

Step Four: If you need to top-up then there are plenty of convenient locations around Bermuda to do that. Check out these locations here.

What more could you want? I thought this sounded like such a cool deal I couldn’t resist featuring it today for Tuesday! What do you think?

Sticker-clad door in Amsterdam

“Reality is a sliding door” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Every traveler has it: those pictures you take everywhere you go. What am I talking about? Well, for me I like to take pictures of my food. It’s weird, perhaps, but I could do a food diary around the world!

Hmmm…maybe that’s tomorrow’s post! But for today it’s our wanderer Nicola who highlights her own photography obsession – doors! When one door closes another one……goes to read about Nicola’s adventures:

While browsing through my photos, I realized that I often take shots of one thing in particular: DOORS. Hmmm… why? I’m no budding photographer, but doorways captivate my amateur lens. While travelling, you are bound to come across doors that speak of history, culture, war, elegance, abandonment and traditions. Whether lavishly painted or shabbily chipped, wrought iron or wooden, doors speak volumes.

The gigantic door to my friend's apartment in Rome

On an everyday scale, doors are just a part of life. But think about all the possible situations you can get into…

- We may have had an awkward encounter at a revolving door, shuffling along in a small space with a stranger.
- We may have watched the film Sliding Doors and wondered about parallel storylines/situations in our lives.
- We may have ran right into a glass or screen door (or worse yet, watch this video… poor guy!).
- We may have been serenaded by Guns N Roses and/or Bob Dylan singing this smash hit.

A door inside the Forum in Rome

Children have a lot of interactions with doors: don’t open the door to strangers; sell cookies or raffle tickets door to door; play with the next-door neighbours; read The Chronicles of Narnia and imagine another world behind your own closet doors; slam the door when you’re angry… well, that doesn’t just apply to children!

And what would be the reason for this door in Athens??

This Other Side of the Door is a blog post with an interesting take on all that doors symbolize, including:
- opportunity
- exploration
- history
- barriers
- cultural differences

Well, that’s all for now, folks. It’s time to go “outdoors” and enjoy the last weekend baseball games of the season: Toronto Blue Jays vs. New York Yankees!

Walking a dangerous bridge with broken sneakers and a trash bag

It was 7 a.m., dark, very cold and threatening rain, but he arrived at our bus in torn jeans, broken sneakers and a leather jacket.

I didn’t even bother to comment. There would have been no point.

We began the drive to the beginning of the Torres Del Paine National Park hike in Patagonia, Chile and the closer we got, the darker it got.

Of course when the bus dropped us at the ferry stop for the ride to our path, the clouds decided to cry and my travel buddy looked like he was about to; not an inch of his 6’2” frame was waterproof.

Me, you ask? Oh, I had rented waterproof pants, had my waterproof, warm ski jacket on and was wearing hiking shoes so I was not too worried.

But you must have had more time to prepare for your five-day hike, Robyn.

You would have thought so, but actually I had arrived in Punta Arenas (the launch pad for the hike) the night before. The difference between me and my travel buddy? I listened to the advice of the hiking enthusiasts at the rental place.

Luckily we met a Belgium couple who gave my hiking buddy a rain poncho to try and protect some of his leather jacket and backpack.

Which brings me to something I have been thinking about for a while and a conversation I had with a fellow wanderer last week: why are some of the best known travelers men, when men can’t travel?

Am I being sexist? Perhaps, but then she told me about a man she met in Laos who had his passport torn apart in India.

Why? Because he placed his passport in one of those scanner bins before going through security. One of the workers saw his passport all alone and ripped-out pages for use in a fake passport. The traveler was thrown-out of India and had to return home.

Of course he then turned around and headed back to India, but what was he thinking in the first place?

Where is your passport, sir?

Should I go on? Ok, I will.

The two of them had just arrived in Cusco, Peru for a two week holiday from Boston so sun, well, was not their friend.

Day one in the hills behind Cusco, one man became bed-bound with a sun burn. Don’t ask me, I don’t know how you go to Cusco and end-up with a sun burn that looks like its from the Caribbean, but he did.

The next day his buddy threw his body down a cliffside as we biked through the hills near Cusco. Seriously, how were these two men going to make it out alive?

Ok, I did have one mishap. I wore shorts to Machu Picchu and the bugs bit, but I was fine.

My question is: why are men the travel writers? why are men the ones featured on travel shows? Where are all the women?

Before you even try to answer these questions with: but isn’t there Elizabeth Gilbert? I will stop you. She was never traveling.

Elizabeth Gilbert was on some self-defined quest with a very scripted journey and it ended with a love story. Travel is not that.

Which makes me wonder: why is the only story from female travelers one that ends with a love story?

Where are the female, Bill Brysons? Or the Michael Palins? Why, when I turn-on the Discovery Channel, is every single show led by a man?

Why does National Geographic only have one female columnist? Why is the one show that everyone raves about right now: “An idiot abroad” and it features a man? Ok, sorry it would have to be a man.

Women can travel to!

Before I move-on, one last question I have for you is: why when I “google” women travelers all I receive are warning signs!

“BE CAREFUL” “DON’T GO” “WHATEVER YOU DO TRAVELING MAKE SURE YOU DON’T DIE!!”

Look, I am not so silly as to think women do not have to worry when they travel. Of course they do. They also have to worry when they are at home. When I walk down the street at home I am usually scanning to make sure I do not have to worry about the man in front of me and I always think before I go running by myself.

Women just have to have these natural defenses. It’s sad, but it’s true.

Now when it comes to traveling, as long as women do not let these defenses down, there really is no greater problems for women on the road than at home (unless, of course, you are planning a visit to the front lines of a war. Then, well, you might want to take added precautions).

It’s sad. It’s sad that women have two choices when it comes to representing themselves in the traveling world: through love or through fear.

Seriously, are there no women out there who travel simply for travel’s sake? Well I’m one and I know there are others. I have two who write regularly for this blog.

So where is out travel show?

Oh, perhaps, you say, it’s because men have all of these crazy mishaps that women will only have travel shows if they wear bikinis and run around beaches. I mean each sex has to play to their strong points!

Biking through Thailand

Well, I went for a three-day, motorbike trip through Northern Thailand that took us through mountains of mist and water-covered roads.

I even skidded-out on the road to the long-neck village! Isn’t that exciting? Don’t I belong on the Discovery Channel?

I wasn’t going to take a bus and having ridden a motorbike since I was 16-years-old (not counting the rides on my parents’ bikes from two-year-old) I was no slouch!

So where is my show? Where is my book?

Well Robyn you have to survive in the wilderness like Bear Grylls.

Surviving Patagonia

Ok I will. I did survive the wilderness. Sure, I didn’t sleep in a camel or eat some ridiculous bug, but I was ready to walk through the wilderness of Torres del Paine National Park for five days by myself.

It was coincidence that a guy in the rental place needed a partner for his trip. Then he showed-up in jeans better suited for an 80′s concert.

Sure there are women out there traveling and writing. There are women traveling for adventure.

Why are they not famous? Why are they not famous TV presenters? Why, if we can travel, keep our passports, have fun, be adventurous and wear totally appropriate clothing are we not the main presenters on the discovery travel?

And last thing: if men have so much trouble getting around the world, as I witnessed, where are all the sites warning men about travel? Don’t leave your passport alone! Don’t wear broken sneakers through Patagonia…..

Just a few tips to start.

Bikers pass the Binnenhof, the former seat of Parliament in the Hague

“I dislike feeling at home when I am abroad.” – George Bernard Shaw

Perhaps it was the lengthy flights or my dorm-room mate who threatened to dismantle the hostel with her snoring, but I didn’t want to be in the Netherlands anymore.

I wanted to go home.

There were, however, 3,600 miles between me and my own pillow, so even though I felt like I had been hit by one too many bricks, I would have to….deal.

The problem? The head cold came at me like the cyclers on the Netherlands’ roads: a ton at a time, with stealth and finally shaking your body with bells until you have an out-of-body experience.

It’s too bad because, if you can recall last week’s column (which you can find on www.robynswanderings.com), I had just spent an amazing few days in Haarlem. The plan was to spend a few days, after Haarlem, traveling around the Netherlands.

My head cold decided to put a kink in my tracks.

Which brings me to this week’s Rock Fever column: traveling while sick! Sure last year I touched on planning your medications before you go, but what happens while on the road? Before I go on, in no way am I a doctor or trained medic. I’m just simply a travel writer who has been sick on the road a number of times so….I suggest from experience. Take it with a grain.

Tip one: as I felt my head collide with the cold and though I usually am a staunch supporter of hostels and dorm rooms, I felt the need for my own space. Unfortunately in the Netherlands the hostels did not seem to offer single rooms. Luckily I was able to find a lovely, cheap hotel on booking.com.

Where did I book it? Well, I decided to go to the Hague, which is an easy train ride (about half an hour) from Haarlem. Which brings me to tip two: how you should travel – sick or not – is slow. I gave myself three nights and four days in the Hague, which meant I was able to spend at least two, full days in bed resting and still see the sites.

The Peace Palace

The sites? As I arrived on the train, I was completely intimidated by this centre of justice. Enormous, modern building-tops greeted me from the train and I wasn’t sure I could handle a metropolis when I was not feeling well. Luckily a tram-ride away was the quaint, streets of the older Hague. The centre is a quarry of canal houses filled with restaurants, bars and diplomats. That’s because, though Amsterdam is the capital, the Hague is the seat of the country’s Government and parliament, the Supreme Court and the Council of State. Fun fact: all foreign embassies, 150 international organizations, including the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the International Criminal Court (ICC) are also located in the Hague.

I was quite keen, even through the haze of my head cold, to visit the ICJ. Unfortunately, cold or not, the courts were actually closed for trials while I was there! Darn criminals, they never cooperate.

At least the closure meant I could rest, guilt-free. Luckily, I also brought-along some medicine from home and tip three is: if you have prescribed medications bring them in your carry-on. You do not want the airline to lose your bags and your medications.

Personally, I do not have any prescribed medications, but I do travel with a basic cure-all kit and tip four. The kit includes: Alka-Seltzer (from tummy troubles to head colds), ibuprofen, band-aids and a general disinfectant for cuts.

Tip five is that I always travel with a sewing kit, which can come in handy if I run into splinters (happens more than you think).

What I would also suggest bringing with you is random and tip six: a spork (spoon-fork-knife combo). Failing a spork, a plastic knife, spoon and fork are very helpful and easily packed in your checked luggage. What has this got to do with being sick? In the Hague, the last thing I felt like doing was eating-out, but I wasn’t at home so I couldn’t cook. So…..I found a grocery store nearby and with my plastic utensils I could create some food in my room.
As a side note: for celiacs this is really about the easiest way to go when you are sick abroad. It ensures you will be able to monitor what is in your food and ensure you do not end up with a head cold and an allergic reaction!

Even better is tip seven: find a room with a refrigerator and be able to save the food, which is healthier for you than take-out.

Luckily in the Netherlands, tip eight is the tap water is portable and my hotel, like many out there, had tea and coffee service in the lobby all day! With a kettle in my room I could drink as many cups of herbal tea as my cold needed!

By day two I had run out of alka seltzer and ibuprofen, but luckily the nearby grocery store also had a pharmacy to restock. I did not need medical advice for a head cold, but if you do need some non-emergency advice tip nine is pharmacists abroad are easier to find than doctors, can usually speak english and are also able to give advice for various ailments. When a salad decided to turn my tummy upside down in Egypt, a pharmacist saved me. In Italy a spider chomped on my arm and a pharmacist immediately recognized the red line moving towards my heart. She stopped it with medications.

The coastline near the Hague and the fishing port/harbour of Scheveningen

Finally, on my last day in the Hague my head finally cleared, but I had to check-out. So, tip ten is: leave luggage with the front desk for the day! I did and meandered past the Peace Palace, which is the home of the ICJ. From the Peace Palace it was an easy walk through tree-canopied streets to the coast and the fishing port/harbour of Scheveningen. Of course I brought my plastic utensils and enjoyed a picnic on the blustery beach (because no Bermudian actually enters the North Sea!) Weird fact: During WWII resistance groups tested suspect Nazi infiltrators by getting them to say “Scheveningen” which is impossible for Germans, apparently.

After enjoying my picnic, I wandered through Den Haag’s suburbs and to the centre. Narrow streets meander around the Grote Kerk (or main church) leave little to remember, but then they expelled me in front of the Binnenhof, which used to be the home of the country’s bicameral parliament. Since 1992, however, parliament has been housed nearby in a flashy, modern extension.

Not really in the mood for museums and running out of time, I gave these sites a miss, but if you are interested in Flemish and Dutch paintings, then the Mauritshuis museum is supposed to be a must!

For now, I must finish this column, catch a train and return to Schipol Airport to meet-up with a travel buddy for the next two weeks. So stay healthy and return here next week for a a visit to Bruges.

“Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.” – Elie Wiesel

The Tribute in Light, the annual remembrance of the September 11 attacks

 

For my generation it was a day we will always remember: 9/11/2001. Me? I was in Rome, Italy teaching at a boarding school and was taking a nap; I wan’t feeling well.

The kids woke me up, yelling and screaming in the hallways. Downstairs we had one TV with satellite and everyone was gathered watching with disbelief, horror and fear.

Today, on this tenth anniversary, our wanderer Nicola remembers where she was on 9/11 and the hair cut that changed the way we should all help:
Even a decade later, the majority of us can probably still remember where we were on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

On that Tuesday, I was in Bermuda, on the morning volunteer shift at the hospital. It was one of my last summer shifts before returning to school on Thursday. When I reached home nobody else was there, so I promptly turned on the TV. The footage and the breaking news was captivating, and I could not believe the shocking events unfolding before my eyes. Needless to say, my family and I were glued to the news for the next few weeks.

The events of 9/11, now in their 10th anniversary, seem like both a lifetime away and a moment ago. I am grateful that my family is a bunch of Broadway nuts, as we were lucky enough to visit New York City several times before 2001.

The NYC experience for us included musicals, shopping and sightseeing… and New York-style cheesecake! Having stayed in a Marriott hotel just blocks away from ground zero, and having walked through the lobbies of the majestic Twin Towers in person, visiting post-9/11 New York made the stories from TV very real. This weekend, the 10th anniversary will mark the unveiling of the 9/11 Memorial in lower Manhattan.

A family trip to NYC in 2005 included a visit to ground zero

Yet, just as Elie Wiesel said, hope can be given from one human being to another in an effort to combat the despair. From the ashes of 9/11 comes stories that are full of hope, wonder and awe. The Miracle of Stairway B is one such story – you can read or watch the incredible story of how these 16 people survived the collapse of the North Tower 10 years ago.

Fast forward to Saturday, September 11, 2010.

Hope was certainly alive among my family and friends exactly one year ago. We had a great reason to celebrate, and I know that the date of this special event that coincided with 9/11 was not a coincidence.

My older sister, Katie, had decided to cut her long, golden locks to donate to a British charity, Little Princess Trust, who provides real hair wigs to children suffering hair loss due to cancer treatment. Not to be left behind (as any younger sibling knows), I joined her not only in her fundraising efforts, but also in the haircut donation!

Katie and Nicola's hairstyles "before"

In Katie’s own words, she explains her grand haircut scheme and why she was eager to donate her ponytail:

“Haircuts – sometimes we get them to be stylish and other times we use them to achieve a drastic new look. Last summer, when I learned that a good family friend had a recurring bout of cancer, my mind was spinning with the question ‘”WHAT can I do that will make an impact on this situation?” . Once again, cancer would deprive her of not only of her health, energy and morale, but also physical things like her hair. An idea began to shape that, as I had extremely long hair, I would donate at least 12 inches of hair for a child’s wig. We think these children are so brave, they experience something no child ever should. As the idea grew, people pledged support and some even joined us on our haircut day in England. On September 11, 2010, I was amazed at Nicola’s extreme chop! My own was much less extreme, yet had a great impact on me. We were left holding blonde & brunette ponytail donations, our contribution in helping fight the effects of cancer.” 

From our fabulous haircut weekend in England in 2010, let me recap several of the highlights (no pun intended!):

As Katie was living in England, she had done her hair homework: she had scouted out the perfect salon, met with the lovely hairdresser, and organized for a local journalist to join us on September 11th (here is Katie in her local newspaper). My mom was home in Bermuda, sadly missing out on the haircut action… but at airport on September 10th, my dad surprised her with a plane ticket so she could join us for the weekend! What a delightful surprise for us all! To further celebrate at the salon, our aunt pulled out a picnic basket with none other than champagne for us and our groupies… a bubbly toast to celebrate the exciting new looks.

First Chop: Katie bravely took the first cut, with the photographer well-placed to snap some photos. As the hairdresser, Chris, chopped off a good 12 inches, the shocking “Wow!” moment was evident in her slight hyperventilation… tears of joy, indeed! All these months of long braids and now she had to learn to style a bob plus a fringe.

Katie's drastic yet beautiful 12-inch chop

Second Chop: My haircut was second, and as my hair was juuuust long enough for the required 10-inch donation, Chris cut my hair bit by bit, from one side to the other, collecting the strands for a ponytail. I was left  with a sideways mullet for a few moments. It was all I could do not to burst into a fit of giggles! I felt… very… light-headed. The pixie look agreed with my face shape… what a relief!

Nicola sports the "mullet" style - oh, the horror!

The after-party celebration for Katie and Nicola, the "Little Princesses" of September 11, 2010.

A year later, we have a dual reason to remember 9/11. While we honour the fallen and remember the miracle stories that came out of September 11th, or pledge monetary and hair donations to support children suffering from cancer, the common denominator is that hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes.

Emily needs to stop looking at my food photos.

I hope you ate your breakfast this morning because our wanderer Emily Ross is opening her food photos from around the world!

Her move from pastry in Amsterdam to pad Thai in Thailand will entice the tummy and, hopefully, your tastes for traveling! Annnnd it’s on to Emily:

Aaaand Emily emerges from the darkness yet again.

Bermuda has an effect on me, causing me to procrastinate yet simultaneously make obsessive compulsive routines. God forbid I go a DAY without my Lindo’s hummus, but my suitcase remains unpacked and the blog remains neglected.

It’s time for me to get off the island. Getting out of Somerset (one end of the island) is feeling like sightseeing, let’s be honest. I’m off to Toronto this weekend to visit the younger sibling and MAN, am I psyched. I’ve been googling Chinatown restaurants with mounting anticipation.

Go to Amsterdam for the pastry Whove thunk it

I truly hope you all take some time to watch the brilliance that is ‘An Idiot Abroad.’ Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant send their idiot/idiot-savant radio colleague Karl Pilkington on a journey to the Seven Wonders of the World and document his reactions to travel.

Before he begins his journey, Pilkington expresses concern at the prospect of travelling to China because he worries he may develop a ‘taste for toad’ and then not be able to get any toad when he returns to the UK. Brilliance. And, I find upon my return to ‘the West’ – a fair point.

There are SO many foods I miss. I had a rather pitiful experience late night in London’s Chinatown – I bought dumplings from a random restaurant and well…they were ALL wrong.  Sigh. I miss the Asian respect for the eggplant. I miss chopsticks. My aunt gave me a family set of chopsticks for my birthday but they seem so misused when applied to roast chicken and peas. Woe.

My kingdom for xiao long bao

Toronto has a reputation for being one of the most multicultural cities in the world and the food scene really reflects the demographic diversity. The fact that there are restaurants sporting xiao long bao, my beloved soup dumplings, truly bodes well for my quest to find The Foods That I Miss.  We’ll see if I’m disappointed.

Perhaps I subconsciously find certain products or foodstuffs to fall in love with when I travel so that I have a greater incentive to return.

Peru – Ambrosoli mint toffees. Oh, the pain when I finally ran out of the stash I brought home.

South Africa/Botswana – All Gold Tomato ketchup. That stuff brings Heinz to shame. Oh, and impala and warthog weren’t half bad either.

France – Speculoos spread. As magical as the name implies.

These barrel pastries in Prague were amazing. Still need to find out the real name

Czech Republic – Activia Aloe Vera yoghurt. Thankfully I can find this in other European countries.

Germany – So. Much. Haribo.

Spain – There was this beautiful, beautiful pasta dish which was SO simple – just a runny fried egg, salt, pepper and pasta. You broke the egg yolk and mixed it in with the pasta to make a ‘sauce.’ Sure, I could make it at home but I could never recreate the pasta my host mother made for me.

I will never forget this pad thai.

If I continue my descriptions into China and Southeast Asia I think I’ll depress myself. Hopefully I’ll find the answer to my cravings in Toronto.

And I suppose if not…well, I have no choice but to return.

Right?