City Wendy

I Saw London, I Saw France

Hey, everyone, I'm back from vacation! I/we had a wonderful time in London and Paris, but it feels good to be home. I arrived in London after an overnight flight from NYC in the wee hours of Thursday, April 28th. Drew had been there a week already doing pre-coverage of the royal wedding, which was on Friday the 29th. I had every intention of finding some place cool to watch the wedding — along the processional route, Hyde Park, even a pub somewhere with lots of locals — but jetlag and allergies got the best of me and I was too ravaged from sleep deprivation to drag myself out of my hotel room. Just as well, I guess, since I have to pee every five minutes these days.

A little bit after the wedding, I did get myself together enough to head down to the Piccadilly Circus area where there were still tons of revelers roaming about. I saw lots of fancy hats and fascinators, quite a few William and Kate impersonators, and countless Union Jack flags. There was a definite buzz in the air and it was fun to be part of the festivities in at least that small way.

Drew wrapped up with work the next afternoon and we spent another eight days in London, joined for half of them by my parents, who flew up from Germany to celebrate my mom's 60th birthday. My mom is really big into birthdays and I haven't celebrated hers with her since 1994, so one of my favorite memories of our time in London was the evening of her birthday as we were sitting in the theater in the West End watching "Million Dollar Quartet" (where Drew and I were the youngest audience members by 15 years, easy), and I looked over at my mom at one point and she had this great big smile on her face and was clapping her hands to the music and in that moment, it was like she didn't have a care in the world. It reminded me of Drew at his 40th birthday party last year and how happy he was to be surrounded by all these friends celebrating him. It's a good thing, seeing a loved one happy.

Anyway, we all had a nice time in London, but on Sunday the 8th, we said our good-byes and my parents headed back to Germany and Drew and I trained it to Paris.

Paris!

I hadn't been to Paris since I was 16, and that was on a family trip, which, let's be honest, isn't the best way to see the city of lights. No, the best way to see Paris is with the person you're in love with, which is exactly how I got to do it this time, and let me tell you, Paris did not disappoint. If I could have stayed there another month, I would have. And I never feel that way about places I visit. I love traveling, but a few days in one place is usually enough for me, no matter how cool it is. But, Paris... I think I was meant for life in Paris.

We didn't even really do anything there except spend four fabulous days wandering around and around, eating tons of bread and chocolate, people-watching, practicing basic French phrases (Où sont les toilettes?). We did climb up (a little ways) of the Eiffel Tower (that's where we are in the picture on top), and we went to the d'Orsay museum, and we hit the famous Les Puces flea market. Our hotel was only a few blocks from the Seine, so we walked along the banks quite a bit, and had a picnic dinner on a bridge at sunset. One night, we splurged and had a really fancy dinner at this place it's tres difficult to get reservations (but we have connections, yo ;)). My favorite part was just sitting in the Luxembourg Garden, near our hotel, for hours on end, eating chocolate croissants and strawberries, reading books and watching all the passersby. I think, on hectic days in my near future, after the baby is born and I'm sleep deprived and crazy and can't think straight, those are the moments I'm going to remember — the calm before the storm, when it was just Drew and me and our hopes for the days to come.

Oh! I forgot one other highlight of the trip. Early on — my third night or so in London — I felt the baby move for the first time (I think)! I was lying in bed, resting a hand on my stomach and I felt a quick "tap-tap-tap" from inside. I was just about 16 weeks along, which all the pregnancy info says is the earliest a woman might feel her baby move. I grabbed Drew's hand and put it on my stomach and he felt it too! Another "tap-tap-tap." I haven't felt it again since, but I'm hoping in the next few weeks it becomes a more regular occurrence.

I have a midwife appointment later today and it's possible we might find out the baby's sex. We'll definitely know at our next visit, when they do the full anatomy scan, but if there's some reason they need to do an ultrasound at today's visit, there's a pretty good chance we'll learn the gender. And that might be even more exciting that Paris. Maybe.

The Flight Map

I'm in London now. I arrived early this morning — 6:30 London time, 1:30 am New York time. I took a tube straight to the hotel and crashed the minute I hit the bed. I didn't sleep at all on the plane, despite being blessed with two whole seats to myself, and it's been weeks since I had a decent night sleep thanks to mad insomnia. I was so tired when I got here, I passed out cold and I know I could have slept all day, but I didn't want to be awake all night, so I forced myself to get up at 2 o'clock so I could shower and get dressed before Drew got back from work. Only, I was so groggy and out of my mind that when I looked at the clock, I thought it said 2:19, when really it said 12:19, but I didn't realize this until after I showered, got dressed and went out in search of food and coffee and water. I really wish I'd have gotten those two extra hours of sleep. I could have used them.

Back on the plane, something occurred to me. I read for the first few hours and then when I was too tired to focus on the words in the book anymore, I turned on the the little TV screen on the seat back in front of me and zoned out staring at the flight map. This was last, oh, hour and a half of the flight and we were just about to cross into Ireland. I watched as the little plane icon moved slowly across Ireland and then across the sea and then into England and I thought, "This is just what it's like to be pregnant!"

At least in these first early months, when you have yet to really look pregnant and you can't feel the baby and the only way you really know you're pregnant is that you haven't had a period in months and your boobs are huge and you're tired and hormonal all the time, there's this disconnect between you and what you read and hear is happening inside your body. Like, I know there's this baby growing inside me — I've seen it (twice!) on an ultrasound, and it's been confirmed by multiple tests, and all the literature tells me the way I'm feeling right now is normal ... but it just doesn't feel quite... real yet. And that's how it is when you watch the little plane fly across the flight map. You know, intellectually, that you're currently miles above Dublin or whatever, but it doesn't feel all that different than when you were miles above New York or Canada or the Atlantic Ocean. All you have to go by is that you're really tired and a little cranky and you can't wait to get off this fucking plane and go take a shower and a nap already.

And then you get off the plane and it's pretty disorienting and people have a funny accent and the money is different and you aren't sure where to catch the train and then all of a sudden it's real and you're so tired you just hope you can navigate yourself safely to the hotel in one piece and not get lost or mugged or worse on the way there. Maybe that's what it's like after the baby arrives. Who knows? Right now, in my pregnancy, metaphorically speaking at least, I'm still flying somewhere above the ocean. It's all blue down there and I see the plane on the map inching closer and closer to something big, but it doesn't mean much to me yet. I just hope I'm ready when it lands.

The Day I Turned Into My Mother

Years from now I may remember Sunday, October 24, 2010 as the day I officially turned into my mother. It's been happening for awhile now. Certain words and phrases have been sneaking into my vernacular against my best defense. This year, I began saying "fall foliage" with gusto. And while my kitchen is nowhere near as well-stocked as my mother's — she could open a food pantry with the amount of canned goods she has — I do have an entire shelf full of nothing but tomato sauce. I'm not even Italian! Much to my dismay, a couple times in recent months, I've caught myself stuffing a book or an umbrella into a plastic bag on my way out of the door and then leaving the house carrying it, instead of grabbing any of my far more stylish and less offensive totes or large purses. It's almost like I'm possessed. And much more than I care to admit, my mood is directly related to how my hair looks. Rain, it turns out, has the power to ruin my entire day, if only for the amount of frizz if causes.

But perhaps the biggest — and quite sudden — example of the apple not falling far from the tree is my recent obsession with coupons. My mother could wallpaper her whole house with the number of coupons she collects. She'll buy stuff online just to have an excuse to use a 15% off coupon code. Restaurant coupons are her favorite now. The woman will travel an hour away for lunch because she has "buy one entree, get one half off" coupon at The Taco Joint. I can top that, though. I planned an entire weekend getaway around two coupons I got from Restaurant.com.

See, Restaurant.com was having an 80% off sale (it ends today, you guys! You have, like, five more hours to take advantage of it) where if you typed in the code "PUMPKIN" at checkout you'd get 80% off your final price. EIGHTY PERCENT, people! In case your math skills are as bad as mine, that means if you found a $25 gift certificate for $10, you would actually only pay two bucks! Two bucks for $25 worth of food and booze!! I mean, come on. Wouldn't you plan an entire weekend getaway around savings like that?

Well, that's exactly what I did. A few weeks ago, Drew and I decided we'd both take this past Monday off and go somewhere for a three-day weekend to enjoy the "fall foliage." Last Tuesday, we still didn't have any ideas for where to go — that's what happens when your husband can't think or talk about anything but postseason baseball — when I accidentally discovered I could get a coupon to the restaurant we fell in love with last fall on our trip upstate to Cold Spring. The $25 coupon was enough to sell me, but with a little more research I discovered that Beacon, NY, the town one stop north of Cold Spring, was home to Dia:Beacon, the country's largest contemporary art museum ... AND, not only that, there was a restaurant in town that was also offering $25 coupons on Resturant.com for two bucks. Two $25 coupons to two different restaurants for a total of 4 bucks?! Plus, all that awesome upstate fall foliage? OMG, SOLD!

So, Sunday rolls around and we get up early to catch the Metro North and horror of horrors, when we arrive in Beacon, where we've reserved a room in a lovely B&B, I realize that while I printed the coupon certificate for the restaurant in Cold Spring, I neglected to print the coupon for the restaurant in Beacon. And rather than enjoy the afternoon in this charming little town, I make it my mission for the rest of the day to track down a printer and get a hard copy of my coupon. Our B&B doesn't seem to have a printer. The Dia museum, while full of enormous art installations, does not have a printer for public use. I call the local library and find out they do have printers, but they close in 40 minutes and are on the other side of town, over a mile and a half away ... uphill.

This is when, if I weren't possessed with the spirit of my mother, I'd give up and say "Oh well! Where's the nearest bar?" But instead, I sprint across town, huffing and puffing and carrying on the whole way. Miraculously, we get there with fifteen minutes to spare. But! And this is so heartbreaking to talk about — the computers automatically shut down seven minutes before closing, and by the time I got a special guest pass to use the computers and got logged on and got to my Restaurant.com account, there were only 30 seconds left. You guys, I was literally in the middle of printing my coupon when the computer shut off! I begged and pleaded with the librarians to turn the computers back on and let me finish, but they didn't seem to understand the severity of the issue.

"Once the computers shut off, we really can't turn them back on," they told me, shrugging their shoulders.

"What if there's an emergency?" I nearly shouted. "You're telling me you honestly can't turn the computers back on?"

"Well, it takes several minutes for them to boot up and it's closing time now," the head librarian explained.

"But!" I argued. "I have a $25 coupon certificate!! I bought it for two dollars specifically for this trip using the special code PUMPKIN! I came to Beacon to use that coupon and if you don't turn the computers back on and let me finish printing it out, everything will be ruined forever! Ruined, I tell you!"

For some reason, the librarian was not moved. In fact, she shuttled me out of the library as quickly as possible — Drew had already stepped outside minutes earlier to "get some air" — and nervously locked the doors behind me.

But still, I would not claim defeat. For the next half hour, I walked up and down Main St. looking for a copy center where I might finish my print job. It wasn't meant to be, though, and when I finally made it to this cute wine bar called Chill, it took a bottle and a half of Prosecco and thirty minutes of iPhone research to accept that I was probably not going to find a printer in that town before dinnertime. Still, I held out hope that with my coupon reference number, which I was able to track down, I could somehow finagle a discount at the restaurant. How else was I supposed to enjoy my meal if I didn't know for sure I was getting it for $25 off the menu price?

But, sadness, you guys. The dopes at the restaurant would not hear of such a thing. Not only was their pork chop mediocre and overpriced, they basically laughed in our faces when we asked about using a coupon we couldn't print out.

"But, here it is!" I said, waving Drew's iPhone in the waitress' face. "We have the reference number and everything!"

But, that wasn't enough, and oh, what a sad, sad realization it was that we'd have to pay full price for dinner.

I'm happy to report, though, that we had no problem using our coupon at the French restaurant in Cold Spring the next afternoon. We also had no problem polishing off another bottle and a half of wine with our lunch. It turns out, I've got some of my dad's genes, too.

Favorite Brooklyn Recommendations

A couple weeks ago, I posted my favorite Manhattan recommendations (so far) and promised a followup Brooklyn post, which I'm sure you've all been eagerly anticipating. Well, wait no longer! I've created a short list of ten things I've grown to love about Brooklyn. If you're a Brooklynite, maybe some of these will be new to you. If you're a Manhattanite and are thinking about venturing to the BK, maybe this will give you some ideas of places to hit. And if you're from out of town and planning a visit to New York, maybe now you'll be enticed to step onto the city's more funky frontier.

Since I'm still new to the borough and plan to do lots more exploring in the many years to come, this list is nowhere near exhaustive or complete, and I definitely welcome recommendations from anyone familiar with Brooklyn. Anyway, here are my faves (so far):

Sunny's

I've written about Sunny's before, and I'm not lying when I say that this authentic dive bar at the tip of Red Hook was one of the reasons we moved to Brooklyn. It wasn't a main reason, but being closer to one of our favorite New York haunts was definitely in the "Pro" column. This is what I wrote about Sunny's after my first visit there: "Sunny's is a worn-in joint near the river with slanted floors, cracked red leather booths, and nautical-themed artwork and family photos on the walls. It's not a shiny place, but it glows." In addition: the drinks are cheap, the people are friendly, and there's always good music playing (usually from one of the bartender's iPods). If you're lucky you may even meet the owner, Sunny, whose presence, like his bar, glows. Be advised: Sunny's is only open Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights.

Brooklyn Flea

This popular flea market happens every weekend, year round, at two different Brooklyn locations (one outdoors and one in a beautiful converted bank). The New York Times says it's "One of the great urban experiences in New York." Time Out NY calls it "One of New York's Essential Pick-Up Spots." I say it's a great spot to find cool vintage finds, people-watch, and eat some amazing food. The market is known as much for its food vendors as anything else for sale here, so come hungry.

Madiba

One of the things that surprised me about Brooklyn when I moved here was how amazing the restaurants are. I admit, I had a little bit of Manhattan snobbery coming here and Madiba was one of the first places that made me realize the error of my thinking. One of the first — if not the first South African — restaurants in the States when it opened in 1999, Madiba is located in Fort Greene, just a few blocks from Brooklyn Flea, so if for some crazy reason you were still hungry afterward, you could head here for fantastic food, lively ambiance, and Mojitos that will knock your socks off (or just knock you on your ass). Tip: Check rsetaurant.com for a coupon.

Prospect Park

Drew and I sometimes debate which is better: Central Park or Prospect Park, and while the latter really can't compare to the former in terms of sheer magnificence, Prospect Park has its specialness. Long Meadow, which is rumored to be the largest stretch of lawn in any U.S. park, is one of the best places in the whole city to enjoy a picnic with friends or family, sunbathe, fly a kite, throw a frisbee, or sit under a tree and makeout. There's a great bike bath around the outer park, tennis courts, nature trails, and a pond where you can rent peddle boats. There's even a zoo. And during the summer, the park puts on lots of free outdoor concerts at the Bandshell. We saw Isaac Hayes there a few weeks before he died in 2008.

Weather Up

I have to credit the lovely Sarah Brown for telling me about this awesome place when I moved to the hood a few months ago. It's unmarked, so easy to miss, but if you find this hidden gem on a stretch of Vanderbilt in north Prospect Heights, you won't be disappointed. With a speakeasy feel to it, this stylish, old-fashioned cocktail bar serves up delicious drinks and has a great back patio to boot. Be forewarned: the drinks are tasty, but expensive. Save this bar for a special occasion or decide in advance not to stay for more than one or two rounds. This ain't no dive.

Green Army Plaza Farmers Market

If you live in Brooklyn, this is a great spot to stock up on your fresh produce for the week, and if you don't live in Brooklyn, this is a great place to see the natives in their natural habitat. Happening every Saturday year-round at the northwest entrance of Prospect Park, this farmers market fills with a diverse group of people from nearby neighborhoods — many of whom seem to lots of dogs and babies and canvas bags. There are always a few musicians playing for tips and a variety of free events, like bake-offs (there's a pie bake-off this weekend, if you're around). You'll find an intimate community feel here in the middle of a big city.

Coney Island

What can I say about Coney Island that hasn't been said a million times already? Go for the people-watching, for the Astroland amusement park (including the iconic Cyclone ride), for the boardwalk experience, and for a view of the Atlantic Ocean. This is a piece of Americana we're lucky to still have around, so go see it while you still can.

Court St./Smith St.

For those not familiar with Brooklyn, a good place to start exploring is the bordering blocks between the Cobble Hill and Boerum Hill neighborhoods, which is basically Court St. and Smith St., roughly between Atlantic and Degraw. These two streets are filled with indie boutiques, home decor shops, cool bars, and tons and tons of restaurants. I haven't spent enough time in this area to have a favorite spot yet but if you like pizza, I can't imagine you'd have trouble finding something good along Court St., where basically every other building seems to house a pizza joint.

Tom's

We lived in our neighborhood three months before we finally ventured into one of its best longtime treasures. Tom's is this old-timey, family restaurant that opened in 1936 and is still decorated with lots of nods to that bygone era. The menu, too, reflects a different time where you could readily order egg creams and soda fountain drinks. Expect a long line to get in for weekend brunch, but the staff keeps waiting patrons satiated with mugs of coffee, cookies, and fresh fruit. The food is fine — not anything to really write home about, but this is a place people go to for the atmosphere not the grub.

The Brooklyn Bridge

Technically, this isn't in Brooklyn — or at least, not all of it. But walking or biking across it (there are bike paths each way), from Manhattan into Brooklyn is just one of those experiences everyone who visits or lives in the city should have at least once. Not only is it an iconic bridge with breathtaking views of the city's skyline as well as the Statue of Liberty, it's such a grand way to enter into either borough. There's lovely Brooklyn Bridge Park over on the Brooklyn side where my friends Rachel and Bill were married over the summer. But you don't have to be attending a wedding to enjoy the expanse of lawn with great views.

From out of town? Some other Brooklyn options I haven't hit yet, but have heard great things about:

Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Brooklyn Museum

For shame, I haven't visited either of these Brooklyn treasures yet — they're so close, too. I plan to rectify that in the next couple weeks, though, and from what I hear, I'm in for a treat. I know when we were planning our wedding last year, the Botanic Garden came up again and again as a beautiful spot to hold one.

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So, you guys, what am I missing, what else do I need to try out? What are your favorite Brooklyn recommendations?

Walkin' In Memphis

Drew and I are going to Memphis! We'll be there for our first wedding anniversary at the end of July (I can't believe we've already been married for over nine months already!). It'll be the first stop of our summer road trip 2010. It will also be out first real road trip together ever, actually. And it's possible after we're done, we may not make it to anniversary number two. I've mentioned before that Drew doesn't drive and I'm not the most, shall we say, patient driver in the world. But I have a solution! Retro candy, y'all. I'm thinking: pixie sticks, fun dips, those little candy buttons, maybe some chiclets. Ooh! And I might even wear a candy necklace and just start munching on it when I get stressed out. It's impossible to stay anxious for too long when you have a supply of retro candy. Also, chips.

We're going to spend a few days in Memphis and then drive five hours west to Springfield, Missouri where the sky is big, but the trucks and hats are even bigger. It also happens to be where I went to college and lived until I moved to Chicago at 24. Drew's never been to Springfield and most people would probably say there's nothing there worth seeing, but I have to disagree! I can't wait to take him down memory lane and show him my old college campus and the different apartments I lived in and bars I used to frequent and bushes I barfed in after too much partying. We'll go to my favorite swimming hole at Fellows Lake and eat biscuits and gravy and maybe break into some of the fancier hotel pools just for old time's sake. It's gonna be great.

And then we'll drive to St. Louis where my parents will be visiting for a few weeks this summer. Our visit will coincide with my dad's 64th birthday and a conference my sister will be at for work, so we'll get to have a little family reunion too. And that drive from Springfield to St. Louis is one of my favorites. Back when I was in college, it was still so exciting for me to finally live in the States after living overseas my whole life and that drive, with its big open sky and tree-covered bluffs and billboard signs for the Jesse James museum and countless fast food chains and local diners, seemed about as American as you can get.

Anyway, Memphis will be brand new to both of us, so if you've been and have recommendations of things to do and see (and places to eat and drink!), I'm all ears. I found this article published in the Times earlier this year and after reading it, I can't wait to hit Earnestine and Hazel's, a former brothel, that Esquire magazine now calls one of the best dive bars in the country. I couldn't think of a better place to spend our first wedding anniversary.

Drew's Video Blog

Andrew Condell in Canada Day 1 from Andrew Condell on Vimeo.

Drew started a video-blog — a vlog, a video chronicle, a video-whatever-you-want-to-call-it! So far, it's about his adventures in Vancouver, and uh, I guess there haven't been that many yet! But I spoke to him earlier this morning and he said he and his co-workers walked to work today, so stay stay tuned for that exciting story! And last night they went out for Malaysian! And he says the air is very clean and fresh in Vancouver and the women are beautiful. Well, he didn't say the part about the women being beautiful, but I bet they are. Also, you will see that Drew is very funny in a sort of quiet Bob Newhart kind of way. He makes me laugh a lot. It's one of the many reasons I married him. Also, I like how he sings karaoke.

To Canada

So, remember how I couldn't decide whether I wanted to go on vacation in Canada or some place warm? The pros for Canada were that Drew would already be there (he's going for five weeks for work to cover the Olympics), I'd get to see him sooner, I'd get to be there for the Games, it's all pretty and stuff, sushi. The pros for some place warm were ... it would be warm. Well, after you guys gave me your advice, I pretty much thought I'd decided on Canada. By the way, Drew said he honestly didn't care where we went  — it made no difference to him at all — so it's not like I was just making all the decisions about our vacation without any regard for his preferences or anything. Just so you know.

Anyhow, I thought I had it all figured out, but for some reason I couldn't pull the trigger and buy the ticket. Weeks and weeks went by and I still hadn't committed. And then over New Year's weekend, I told Drew I wanted to go some place warm instead — maybe Peurto Rico. So we quickly did some research — I found round-trip tickets to San Juan for, like, $275 or something, and I discovered this perfect little out-of-the-way-but-not-TOO-out-of-the-way little spot where we could go. And then, all of a sudden, just when I thought I had it figured out, I changed my mind and decided that I wanted to go to Canada after all.

Before I could be swayed again, we quickly booked the ticket and made reservations at hotels in Vancuover and Victoria, so if anyone has suggestions for things to do (particularly in the winter and not skiing-related), and places to eat (sushi!), lemme know. We booked a room in kind of a fancy hotel in Victoria for three nights and though I hate to admit it, I think the thing I'm most looking forward to about the trip is getting a massage in the fancy spa in the fancy hotel. And maybe a facial, too. As much as I like traveling for, like, the adventure and the chance to see new things and experience a different culture,all of which are great, the truth is I really like traveling for the fancy hotels. And for those drinks with maraschino cherries in them that are always so fun to drink on vacation. Luckily, Drew feels the same way. Well, except for the maraschino cherries. He's pretty indifferent to them.

In not completely unrelated news, I got a jury summons this weekend. Unfortunately, there are very few things I leave my apartment for in the winter and jury duty is not one of them, so I went online and deferred that shit 'til April. Also, I'll be leaving for Canada a few days after my original jury date, and what if I got selected and the trial were to run long, you know? Also, the County Clerk apparently thinks my middle name is "3." Hey, do I still have to go for jury duty if they have my name wrong? I really don't want to.

And in completely unrelated news, I got this ridiculous coat yesterday. I'd been wanting a white vintage faux fur coat since I saw one at the Hell's Kitchen flea market a few weeks back. I regretted my choice tonot buy it when I had the chance, so when I was at the flea market again yesterday and saw this one — not the same one, but pretty similar — and it only cost $15, I had to get it. I didn't even try to bargain with the woman, since: a) she was sitting out in the freezing cold all day and deserved to make as much money as she could, and b) come on, it's 15 bucks. I spent that much on the champagne I drank at brunch. When I got it home I realized it reaks of cigarette smoke, so I'm going to take it to the cleaners and hope they can get most of the smell out. At any rate, I may have to pack it along for my trip to Canada. Did I mention it's Jordache? Oh yes, it's Jordache, bitches. It's got a tag with the horse logo on it and everything. Who cares about a little smoke smell?

Canada or Costa Rica?

Readers, I need your advice. Because of a certain morning show that employs him, Drew will be working the Olympics again like he did last year in Beijing. This time he'll be headed to Vancouver for about five weeks for the 2010 winter games. Last time, I joined Drew in China for the final few days of the Olympics and then he and I took off for a couple weeks of travel around the country. It was fun, it was exhausting, it was expensive, but I'd do it all over again, because how often do you get an opportunity to travel around China (especially when your boyfriend's' ticket there and back is fully paid for)?

So, when Drew got invited to work the Winter Olympics, my initial thought was that I'd tag along like I did before and he and I could travel a little like we did last time. But then I thought about it some more. You guys, it's gonna be COLD in Western Canada that time of year, and I hate cold vacations. And it's not like Vancouver is so far away — like China is — that we won't feasibly visit on our own some time. I've heard summer is a wonderful time to go. Wouldn't I be better off visiting when the weather's a bit more welcoming?

Last year in late February, Drew and I went to Costa Rica, which was not only an economical vacation, it was good for our souls, too. Nothing beats lying around on a beach at the end of February, brushing sand out of your cleavage and ordering your fifth Mojito of the day (sure, I could have done without the near-death parasailing experience, but still). I asked Drew last week if he might be ready for a vacation like that after putting in his 5 weeks in Vancouver. He works hard during the Olympics — up to 18 hours a day, six or seven days a week — and is ready to relax afterward. He said Costa Rica would be nice, but so might hanging out in some ski lodge in Canada drinking hot toddies for a few days in a row.

So, internet, what would you do? Costa Rica or Canada? (The price would probably end up being about the same.) If I went to Canada, I might get to see a couple Olympic events, though that's no guarantee. And, not to sound all snotty about it because it truly is an experience, but I've already been to two Olympics, so it's not like it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I'm passing up. Still, I'd probably fly out to Vancouver maybe a week before the games end (I can telecommute for work from there) so I'd get a longer change of scenery than if I just went to Costa Rica with Drew for a few days when he's done working. Plus, I wouldn't have to wait as long to see him! We're newlyweds, after all, and five weeks is a long time to be apart! On the flip side: five whole weeks without shaving my legs!

Okay, I guess what I'm also asking is: what should we do and where should we go if we decide on a short vacation in Western Canada in late February? Travelers, Canadians: what say you? We don't ski, we don't want to ski, but we like the idea of a cozy ski lodge. I also like pretty scenery and yummy food. Is it a waste to vacation there during winter if you aren't a skiier? Will we get bored just sittin' around a fireplace, reading books and drinking hot whiskey for five days? Will we wish we were on a beach? What should we doooo? (And sorry for such an obnoxiously bourgeois post. Wah, I can't decide where to vacation! Life's so hard.).

Moonin'

This weekend Drew and I will book the flights for our honeymoon, a trip I've been looking forward to longer than I've been anticipating a wedding. We've decided on 2 weeks in Portugal and Spain (Lisbon, Seville and Barcelona, to be exact), and will leave early September, about 6 weeks after our wedding when the Europeans are back to work after their month off in August and the weather is a little cooler. 

It wasn't very hard picking a honeymoon locale. Basically, Drew suggested Hawaii and I sorta let him think that was a possibility for about a week before I said, "What about Portugal?" Truthfully, Portugal just popped in my head a couple days before and seemed an infinitely more interesting honeymoon spot than Hawaii, so I went with it. Turns out that's where Drew's parents went for their honeymoon. "You know that photo we have of them holding the little arch of balloons?" Drew asked. "Yeah, I love that picture," I replied, "they look so happy." "That's in Portugal," he said, "on their honeymoon!" 

Drew's mother passed away about 26 years ago, so obviously I never got to meet her.  I like the idea of going where she went after she got married — makes her feel a little bit closer somehow. And Spain's just next door to Portugal, so it made sense we'd want to stop there as well. My friend Jared's father grew up in Seville and Jared's spent a lot of time there over the years visiting his extended family. He's always talked about it with a sort of reverence and described it as such a romantic spot, it seemed like we'd be fools not to stop there for a few days as well. And Barcelona? Well, who doesn't want to see Barcelona?

We still have so much to do to get ready for the wedding — musicians to hire, rings to pick out and purchase, a dress to buy...and a million other little things I wish would magically take care of themselves — but my mind's already 6 weeks past the big day, somewhere on some little cobblestone street by the beach. If anyone's been to Lisbon or Seville or Barcelona and you have tips or suggestions for stuff we have to see and do, let us know. And if you know how to say "Make that a large pitcher of Sangria, please" in Spanish, that would be helpful, too.

A Strange Customer

It's the morning of our last full day in Costa Rica and I'm having my breakfast up on our balcony for a change. Usually I eat it in the dining area with the other guests where I can refill my coffee and gather evidence about the lives and relationships of everyone else staying here. But this morning I'm staying up on the balcony, just outside our room where Drew is still fast asleep. It's only 7:30 AM, after all, and we had a big day yesterday.

We started the morning with a trek through the national park where we finally saw some goddamn monkeys. We also saw: iguanas, sloths, hummingbirds, mammoth butterflies, lots of birds, deer, and one raccoon drinking from a toilet. Our tour guide's name was Ricardo and he was an expert at training his telescope on critters camouflaged in trees and taking National Geographic-quality photos for us with Drew's simple point-and-shoot Canon. Each time he'd take a picture, he'd admire his work and say in a thick accent, "Can-own is day best!!" before handing the camera back to Drew. Accompanying us on our tour was a nice lesbian couple from Maine who happened to be staying at the same resort as us, and at the eat-fruit-and-chit-chat portion of the tour, Ricardo asked us what we thought of said resort. "It juiced to be different owners," he informed us,"with very strange custoomers," referring, of course to the mostly gay clientele, which I already knew about. Drew and I exchanged looks with the lesbians and then quickly stared down at our empty plates. "Jew know what I mean?" he pushed, "Strange custoomers??" I spit out a watermelon seed into my hand and suggested we ought to get a move on. "Strange," I should have said to the man who makes monkey mating calls for a living, "is relative."

Later in the day — after a swim and lunch and a nap at the hotel — Drew and I went parasailing. It was only he who was supposed to go as I'd convinced myself after the god-awful seasickness I suffered through on the catamaran tour, I shouldn't do anything else that might risk my barfing all over myself. But after watching three other people sail above the ocean for 20 minutes each and seeing how exhilirated they all looked when they landed, I decided the good must outweigh the bad, and so I slathered on some sunscreen, paid my 90 bucks, and got buckled into the parachute. And really, the good did outweigh the bad! It was everything you'd expect: gorgeous, peaceful, exciting, private. In New York, where I can't turn on the radio without all my neighbors knowing what station I'm listening to, it was a real treat to sing my entire Karaoke repetoire at the top of my lungs without anyone hearing a single note.

Everything was great up there in the sky until, for seemingly no good reason at all, the boat that was pulling me slowed to a near-stop far out away from the beach. Suddenly, I started drifting — no, falling, really — very quickly towards the ocean. And the closer I got, the faster I talked myself into believing everything would be okay. After all, I had a parachute and a life jacket and seemed to still be attached to the boat with a bunch of cables and stuff, so surely all would be fine! Besides, I felt certain the boat would pick up speed again and a gust of wind would lift me back up to my safe spot in the sky where I could belt out the words to "Dream a Little Dream" and no one would be the wiser. But, no. The boat did not pick up speed and a gust of wind did not save me, and I, in fact, was not only dropped unceremoniously into the ocean, but was dropped on top of a STINGRAY. A stingray, people — you know, one of those things that happened to kill Steve Irwin?!

From 20, maybe 10 feet away, I thought perhaps this stingray might just be a big leaf of some sort...just floating out in the middle of the ocean just the way Ricardo said the coconuts got here from India eons ago, but as I got closer and closer and spotted its beedy eyes and all, I realized it most certainly was not a leaf, and without any choice in the matter at all, I was going to land right on top of it. And just as my foot brushed against the stingray and I fell knee-deep into the water, the motor of the boat finally revved up again, that gust of wind I'd been praying for came sailing by and I was lifted back in the air again. Just like that. After it was all over and I was safely back on the boat, unbuckling my cables and so forth, the captain asked if I "saw anything out there." I thought about my near-death experience with the stingray and then of the full karaoke repetoire I'd been singing for the last 20 minutes, and I replied: "Hey, as long as you didn't hear anything, I didn't see anything." And that's just the way we left it.