T̶w̶o̶ One p̶e̶r̶p̶e̶t̶u̶a̶l̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶a̶t̶s̶ immigrant settling into home country number five.
Our last trip to New York City was a whirlwind of friends, family, and food, topped off with a little bit of art and some volcano drama. Here were some of the culinary highlights from this time around (if you don’t feel like reading the whole post, scroll to the bottom for the best restaurant of the trip).
We arrived in New York exhausted and much later than scheduled, but dammit we weren’t going to miss a single NYC meal opportunity.
This blog seems to be on summer vacation along with the rest of Europe. I still have some old trips to tell you about, and I have a pile of Ask the Expat questions to get to (most about Oktoberfest), but as far as stuff going on right now I got nothin’. I’ve slept in my own bed for two whole months straight – can you imagine? I prefer to do my traveling in the shoulder seasons or off season, when prices are lower, crowds are smaller, and the sun isn’t so brutal.
So where were we? Oh yes: Merano, Italy. On our second day there, we asked at the hotel for a lunch suggestion. Lucky for us, the recommended place was closed, and we ended up improvising. We found Castel Fragsburg at the top of a windy road outside of Merano. The posted menu looked interesting, if a bit expensive, so we decided to give it a try. We were led through a large dining room out onto a terrace with a sweeping view of the valley below. Worth the price alone.
Before we can even order the chef starts sending us little ‘greetings from the kitchen’
Merano is a small spa town in an apple-tree-filled valley in South Tyrol, the part of Italy closest to Munich. It is also Italy’s German-speaking part, a fact that confuses me every time I go.
I’m searching for an outfit for Oktoberfest this coming September, and I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction. Should I even dress up? I don’t want to offend anyone. If it is cool to wear an outfit, where do you recommend I get one? Is it stupid for me to … Read more
Found this while sorting through my photos from our recent trip to the US. Sometimes Germany feels like an absurd pit of consumer product marketing (Obama Fingers, anyone?), but the US always manages to take it a billion steps further. It also reminds me how much I love being served tap water in US restaurants … Read more
In order to preempt what would surely become FAQs, there are two things I will make clear at the outset of this post: There really is a place called Dollywood. I really did go there. Jealous yet? You may share your boob jokes in the comments. —- There is a special little part of the … Read more
My there was a lot going on in Munich this weekend. Drag queens were racing through Marienplatz. Anime aficionados were living it up in the English Garden. I managed to sleep through the Kocherlball for the third year in a row.
Sunday’s cool weather lured me out to see the student art show at the Akademie der Bildenden Künste. Munich’s art academy consists of two main buildings, one old and one new, and getting to wander around in them was half of the fun to me.
As expected for a student show, there was definitely a fair number of duds on display, but a lot of delightful pieces could be found amongst the various exhibition rooms. I was especially impressed with how many works really made me laugh (with them, not at them). Modern German art isn’t exactly known for displaying a sense of humor.
The lawn of the Old Building was spotted with boards for one to poke one’s head through and be photographed. (Do you know what I’m talking about? Why is there no actual word for these things?) Collectively titled “Extreme Situations of Human Existence,” these particular head-cutout-boardy-thingies allowed you to try on the role of combat soldier, 1000-pound man, or crucified Jesus, among other fun stuff.
Warning: this post is going to gaze squarely at my navel. Like, even more than your average post on a personal blog. I apologize in advance.
As of this summer, I have spent ten years of my life in Europe – ten out of the last fifteen, with five international (plus a few domestic) moves in that time period. I’ve changed cities on average about every two years.
I feel like I should reflect on this milestone, about how I’ve chosen to live my adult life. But what is there to say? I like living in Europe. I’m OK with being a foreigner. I could try to say something deeper than that, but I’ve never been one for sentimentality. So I’ve spent most of my adult life as an outsider looking in. That’s not so odd, given I spent most of my childhood feeling foreign, too.
I’ve been a little bit foreign almost as long as I can remember. When I was a child our little nuclear family moved from New Jersey to the Deep South. My first indication that this was a bigger deal than our move from one street in the neighborhood to the other was on the airplane. It was an early-morning Delta flight, back when airlines still served food and Delta was still Southern. Breakfast consisted of biscuits smothered in white, gooey, gelatinous ickiness with little specks in it. I looked at my mother questioningly.
On our way back from Croatia we broke up the driving by spending a night in Udine, Italy.
We didn’t have much time there, but we managed to squeeze in two meals, two gelatos, and a lovely aperitivo while people-watching on a busy square (ie, all the essentials of a great Italy trip).
We had dinner at the charming and casual Al Vecchio Stallo, where we learned that Friuli offers up dishes just as yummy as those from Italy’s other regions