Fourth (?) Times the Charm?

Karen Abu Adra

Some cities captivate from the first glance. The first few steps off the train. The first crush of late-night revelers in a chippie. Others take repeated meetings. Berlin never appealed to me. I always said I love German small towns but its big cities weren’t so interesting. Too much modernity. Berlin doesn’t have the romance of the Rhine and Mosel valleys or the beauty of Bavarian mountains.

The first time I went to Berlin was the spring after the fall of the Berlin Wall. I was guiding my brother, sister and parents on a tour of the highlights of central Europe during spring break of my junior year abroad. I remember, well we have photos, of my brother and sister standing on the wall. We ate dinner in an Italian restaurant and reeked of garlic for several days afterwards. So badly in fact that my sister buried her nose in our brother’s leather jacket on the train out of town. I recall my mother’s nervousness in the Zoo train station where we waited for the night train to …. The Zoo seemed a fitting description as well as station name, and my mother’s anxiety spiked as my brother struck up conversations with the unwashed evening denizens of the station looking for a warm bench to sleep off their alcohol stupor or busk for a few coins to achieve it.

The second time was for one of those EU-sponsored meetings of young minds brought together to discuss the burning issues of the day. This one was memorable for the hot Greek guy I flirted with and the evening in a disco on the Ku’damm, a haze of smoke and ultraviolet light in the brief period where I actually loved to go to such places. It must have been December because the other vivid image I have is of a gingerbread cookie hanging from the frame of the hut on the Christmas market at the Kaiser Wilhem Memorial Church, the bombed out remains of the church left as a reminder of the horrors of World War II, and the “Lippenstift” (lipstick) modern church that sits next to it.

The next time was some 27 years later when I convinced my husband that a long-weekend hop to the Berlin Christmas market would be lovely. Funny how the hotel we ended up staying in was near the Ku’damm and the closest market took me back to the Memorial Church where we sat sipping Gluehwein out of a snowman mug and smiling gleefully embraced by the Gemuetichkeit of it all. We traced the footprint of the Berlin Wall and marveled at how many areas of the city are unrecognizable, abandoned squares now home to gleaming glass and steel.

Then came the pandemic, and my determination after it that if I can afford it and an opportunity to travel presents itself, I’m not letting anything sit in my way. With about 65 hours in the city, including a day of remote work and sleeping, I took off to Berlin with my daughter in law and her sister for a whirlwind weekend.

German Christmas markets have a captivating charm. But in Berlin, with over 70 markets, every neighborhood has its market, each with its own unique calling card to draw in visitors- both locals from the neighborhood as well as tourists, all cozying up together around fireplaces or in heated tents and warming their hands around a mug of Gluhwein or other hot drink. Even soaring COVID rates didn’t dampen the magic.

On our final morning, I set off on an early morning walk to watch the sun rise before our return flight. A  half-moon hung over the TV tower on Alexanderplatz. I headed past the Christmas market where the Church of St. Mary’s steeple and the market’s ferris wheel were slowly bathed in a pink glow. I watched the rosy sparkle reflect across the river. I walked back up to the hotel on the other side of market to catch the Red City Hall cast a deeper red tone against the sky. In front of the building was a large menorah to mark Hanukkah. I turned around to take one last look at the ferris wheel and saw that if I could have zoomed out far enough the half moon, the Christmas tree, church steeple and the menorah would have lined up. That’s the moment I realized I had fallen in love with Berlin and can’t wait to learn more about it.  

Can I Get Ice with That?

Karen Abu Adra

“Can I Get Ice There?”  is one of the most often asked questions by Americans on travel groups that I follow, and lack of icy drinks is a frequent complaint that I hear from Americans. Please don’t take offense, but this question drives me crazy.

Because this question is so frequent and my inquiring mind needs to know, I found out why Americans like icy cold drinks and why many Europeans find ice literally distasteful. If you want a more in-depth look into this phenomenon, this article is very informative. It boils down to a warmer, muggier American climate, easily available sources of ice- frozen bodies of water in the 19th century or the greater availability of cooling appliances in American households- and a preference for water made “tasteless” by the cold. Europeans on the other hand, feel cheated to pay for a drink that has been watered down by ice and prefer water with a taste in the form of sparking mineral water. Ice never became widely fashionable, because it was a luxury affordable only by the wealthy who shipped it in from America.

Today ice is everywhere in America and free. No hotel can operate without an ice machine, because of, I theorize, the way Americans travel domestically. American vacations are often road trips, which would not be complete without a cooler of food and drink that requires fresh ice every day. Europeans have fewer and much smaller cars so vacation travel is often by air or rail, and bringing a cooler would be impractical.

When I first went to Europe nearly 30 years ago, I noted that a glass of cola had only an ice cube or two, but thought oh well, I guess that’s how it is here.  I gave it a try, and slowly understood what the Europeans were talking about. A “cooled” beer had far more flavor than an ice cold one. I studied in Germany and learned that a Koelsch had a much different flavor than a Hefeweizen. Middle Easterners serve hot, sweet tea all day, and only the addition of mint in summer as opposed to say sage in the winter, would hint at the season. They claim that the hot tea has a more cooling effect than an ice-cold drink on a hot day.

So why does the ice question drive me crazy? It is emblematic of a mindset that has the potential to limit possibilities and keep a traveler from sampling what the destination has to offer. For me, the point of traveling is to experience something you can’t in your everyday life. You might not change your preference, and that’s fine. But wouldn’t it be a shame to forego something that you might enjoy even more? So order what the guy at the Stammtisch (the table reserved for the regulars) is having. Ask the waitress to bring you her favorite dish on the menu. Buy the guy next to you a round and have whatever he’s having, because this is how to experience, not simply visit, a country or region. I promise you will have a more memorable trip. Just recently, I was in New York in a Korean bistro. Honestly, I have never had Korean food before but I saw others drinking a bright pink drink, so I ordered it too. I don’t even know what’s in it besides strawberry and citrus peel, but it was refreshing. I’m glad I tried it.

That’s why I’m writing this blog. There are two things that broaden your horizons: reading and traveling. This won’t be a blog about what bag to take or which hotel in Edinburgh I like. This blog is about absorbing, observing and experiencing culture. So let’s go!

Fandom Travel

Karen Abu Adra

Yesterday was World Outlander Day marking the date of publication of the first book in this saga of war, history, politics, culture, family and love. I don’t like things. I am either indifferent or totally obsessed. Seeing people’s posts about this day and the friends and travel experiences being part of this fandom has brought them inspired this blog today.

I think fandom speaks to me as introvert for several reasons. First, it’s an instant ice breaker. I don’t have to search through small talk for something in common. You get to know people virtually, and there is a community that embraces you, and it has encouraged my creative outlets through sewing costume replicas and finding comfort and relaxation in knitting. It has also brought me some of my most treasured travel memories to places that I had overlooked but that quickly became homes where my batteries and soul are recharged.

When I studied abroad, I was a completely snobby towards any country that spoke English. At best, these places were a slightly more sophisticated version of my own culture I thought.  I might have been convinced to travel to Ireland, but while studying in Germany in the late 80s, that might as well have been back in the US for as far away as it was. I had no desire to travel to London and Scotland didn’t even figure in my thoughts.  Enter the tv show Outlander.

Scotland is very much a main character of the series. The story isn’t possible without the rich intrigue and drama of the country’s history, culture, and politics. The landscapes so brilliantly photographed in the series surpass the best tourism campaign. I traveled to Scotland the first time because of the series. I have returned, even feel compelled to take a yearly pilgrimage as long as I am able, because my restless soul feels at peace there. There is no hyperbole in that statement. My must sees on that first trip did include many filming locations and I had to get the iconic Instagramable shots there, but in the course of our visit, the history and stories we learned stories at these sites entwined me to the country.

Likewise, the Olympic Peninsula where I traveled as a Twilight fan. I would never have known about its uniqueness if not for that series. I brought two of my sons, who were nearly teens at the time, on that first trip, and as the best endorsement of a destination imaginable, my tv addicted son, upon learning that our room at the hotel on the Quileute reservation of La Push did not have a tv, exclaimed that with this view of the Pacific, who needs a tv! It might have helped that he was getting curious stares from women and girls of all ages who kept telling him he looked like Taylor Lautner, the actor who played Jacob Black. The Olympic Peninsula offers so many outdoor adventures that we had to come back the following year to go kayaking and take part in the Quileute Heritage Days, learning about their traditional crafts and games and getting to discuss the issues facing the Quileute youth of the tribe with an elder and comparing it to the issues facing Bedouin.  An impromptu stop at the first café we found after kayaking  because we were starving made me realize the importance of throwing away the guidebook and social media recommendation and allowing for chance. Grannie’s Café was filled with antique kitchen utensils and really great burgers.

For the truly obsessed, ahem, there are conventions and travel to cities you might not have chosen as a destination. There’s always an opportunity to discover something new. The con I went to was in New Orleans, where I had long wanted to travel. I wish I had booked a longer trip there because it is an onion- layers of history and mystery- with a culture like none I have yet experienced.  The friendships and reunions celebrated there keep me coming back to these conventions. Where else do you pull together Americans from three different corners of the country and Israelis together into one room and fall apart in laughter as they help lace you into the 18th century costume you sewed as the first garment you’ve attempted in a quarter century? The laughter and warmth are necessary to sustain all through long waits so that actually getting a photo with the stars is almost an afterthought. I can’t describe the anticipation swelling now as I look forward to new adventures and seeing so many fellow fan friends this summer in Glasgow.

On my last trip to Scotland, I decided on a tour to the Borders region because it featured a stop at Alnwick Castle, which played parts of Hogwarts in the first few Harry Potter films and featured in Downtown Abbey too. And yes, I took broomstick flying lessons with a crowd of kids and parents. It was an absolute blast being absolutely silly and getting magical photos.

The motivation to travel to a specific destination can come from anywhere, but traveling somewhere because your favorite story, film or tv show was set or filmed there, opens up a world of experiences and the rare chance to plan travel that isn’t based on a Top 10 places in list. Wherever you are traveling, there is probably a film location on the way or near by. Even if you are just a casual fan of something, add a stop connected to the film or book and be a part of its magic.

An Unexpected Souvenir

Karen Abu Adra

Ever since the COVID situation in Israel has improved enough to allow us to travel, I have been pondering what to write. I had a number of threads, but nothing clicked. I am about to set off on my third trip abroad, but words wouldn’t flow. I guess I had to work it out another way.

As soon as it was announced that we could travel without quarantining upon return, I was searching for my next destination. That turned out to be Dublin, a city where I had previously spent two days but to which I always knew I would return. Knowing Ireland is famous for its wool but not wanting to buy one of the Arran sweaters hanging in every souvenir shop, I sought out a yarn shop to buy something squishy and hand-dyed. Finding the shop was a head scratcher. I had the address, just off Grafton Street, the main shopping street. But Google showed me an alley where in front of me was a door. After darting down some narrow alleys and nearly giving up, I found myself back at the door and opened it. I followed the passage a few yards till it opened onto a hidden courtyard several stories high that housed artisan shops. On the second floor, I found the shop and it was all I had hoped. Tiny, colorful, staffed by women for whom yarn is a passion. What color do you look for in Ireland? Green. And that the color was called the Burren (area on the Wild Western coast of Ireland that looks like you have landed on a different planet) even more perfect.

For the past two months, I have been knitting a sweater from that yarn. I’ve been down an Irish rabbit hole inspired by the places I saw and things I learned. I watched Rebellion, a tv show about the Irish fight for independence, a bunch of YouTube videos about Irish history, and listened to a book by a survivor of one of the torturous mother and baby homes where unwed Irish women  sent to give birth to save their families from the shame of unwed motherhood and where these babies were taken from their mothers for adoption. Knitting is a stress reliever. The repetitive motion is calming and my thoughts can wander or ponder. It occurred to me that the colors of the yarn represented all the shades of Ireland: a hundred shades of green- from the mossy green of the fields flecked with sheep and cows flashing by from the train window to the emerald of grasses on the Cliffs of Moher–, the brown  of upturned soil in farmers’ fields, purples of the last dark shades of sunset, yellow of sun peeking through, the sapphire of the water of the Liffey shining in the sun, the rust of a butterfly’s wing. There was a memory sparked by with every different color. I didn’t buy the yarn as a souvenir, but it has become a treasured and meaningful one. What souvenirs have you collected along the way?

Karen Abu Adra

Falling in Love Again

Flatiron Plaza at noon

My long-term love affair is with New York City. It has an air of excitement: the feeling that anything could happen. That the next opportunity is around the corner. Maybe it’s the sidewalk hustler, the mix of mundane and lux, poor literally rubbing up against ultra-wealthy, the cacophony of languages, sirens and horns, the shadow of history just peeking out from under gleaming new constructions. Whenever I arrive in New York, start walking down a street, I smile and excitedly await what the city will show me this time. His offerings are endless.

This was my first venture into the city in two years. I’ve missed him greatly. He’s been battered over the past year. I was curious about how he is recovering. Will we have the same spark? Will I have to give more of myself to make the relationship work? Or has the love affair fizzled?

I only had five hours to spend with him and met him as we often have, exiting Penn Station. Though I arrived at noon, he wasn’t quite all there: seventh Avenue at 33rd with but a handful of cars, and I could stretch out both arms without touching another person. I crossed the street, heading towards Broadway towards the Flatiron District because I’m a nerd, and my only destination was to be able to visit the new Harry Potter store, but mainly I just wanted to sit and visit with my old friend.

 Walking across 33rd, I shivered despite the 95 degree heat. It was ghostly: still a sense of expectation but laced with doubt. Not deserted, the streets were sparsely populated. I grabbed an ice coffee. There was no line. Turning down Broadway, I marveled at the absence of bumper to bumper traffic. The streets narrowed down to accommodate outdoor seating for restaurants. Noon and no crowds. At the Flatiron building, lines blurred by the safety netting tenting it for renovations, the plaza was nearly empty, and I only dodged one tourist having her picture taken. The golden shine of the New York Life Building glinting above an outdoor café space half empty at noon.

I grabbed takeout for lunch and headed to Madison Square Park. People maintained proper social distance on the benches. I wandered about searching for a well shaded spot and sat down on a lawn that I shared with a group of babies and their caregivers sitting around a woman with an incredible operatic singing voice, wearing a face shield as she presented a musical story hour complete with magic tricks.

As I ate, I did something I am unaccustomed to doing in NYC. I listened. The decibel level in NYC is usually quite high so that even conversing with someone next to you while walking down the street is challenging. Sitting under this tree, I could hear the conversations of passers by and those sitting on the nearest benches 10 feet away. I walked past a fountain and heard one maintenance worker say to another “I love Shakespeare. It’s like the Bible.” It cracked me up imagining that this man might be a Broadway actor working here till the theaters open again. I heard snatches of conversations from the people walking past me on the street.

New York has changed. Who knows if it will remain like this, but this New York was magical and not only because I got into the Harry Potter store. He charmed me anew with this softer side. I have fallen deeper in love.

Fernweh

Karen Abu Adra

I admit it; I love to shop when I travel. The clothes I turn to most often are those I have bought on my travels. Be it from a local market or even an international chain, because even those try to suit the local tastes with a few unique pieces, buying a piece connects me viscerally to a time and place. Even just to throw on a scarf from somewhere exotic with a utilitarian t-shirt boosts my mood.

I cleaned up my closet today. As I refolded my t-shirts, at the bottom of the pile I pulled out a white one and was hit by a nostalgia pain so sharp that I sat down to write to avoid crashing in tears. It’s not that it is a unique shirt. It’s from a chain. It wasn’t expensive. There isn’t a story connected to finding it. I had to think a minute to remember that I bought it in Regensburg. But the feeling it evoked was because it was from the last trip to Germany where I stayed with my son and daughter in law, who were stationed there at the time, and the first trip I went on with my new daughter in law, her first trip ever abroad. A trip of emotional experiences that can’t be replicated, not because of corona, but because of the unique places in our lives that each of us was at. Of course, the Germans have a word for that feeling… Fernweh. “Distance sickness,” the opposite of homesickness.

What I remember most vividly was walking around Munich with my daughter in law, a young Muslim Bedouin woman. She was so open to trying new experiences and tastes, which was somewhat unexpected. We visited the royal residence in all its golden splendor, but what moved me most was taking her into a cathedral, the Theatine Church, across the way. It’s not a famous church, and you could easily miss it if you were walking past because of its non-descript entrance, but for her, it was the first European cathedral she had ever seen, and a bit scandalous for her to walk into a church, at least as far as her friends thought. She rightly did not see anything wrong with it, and I relived those feelings of wonder, of never having seen or even quite imagined such a site. She lit a candle and whispered her own prayer after asking me why others lit them. And I relived seeing such a site for the first time through her eyes. This is what this simple white, chain store t-shirt evoked. And that is what travel for me.

Cranachan: Scottish Summer in a Glass

Karen Abu Adra

In the absence of being whisked off on a plane to a new destination, I have decided to start a new series recalling past travel through my kitchen. Cooking and baking have been my corona catharsis. Though the tedium of everyday cooking had long taken the fun out of it for years, lately when I’m working in the kitchen, I feel my stress level drop as I zone out chopping and sautéing, mixing and steaming. Maybe it’s not having the stress of time pressure. Trying new foods on travels is one of the best pleasures and reason enough to travel. Preparing dishes that you got to know on your travel adventures recalls the pleasure, the company and the place where you first enjoyed the taste.

Today I am off to Scotland. No haggis though I do look forward to a bite of that next time I set foot in there. Cranachan takes the humble oat, the backbone of many a Scottish dish, a splash of whisky, the Scots’ water of life, and layers them with the sweetest berries and cream for which Scotland is famous to create a perfectly sublime dessert. The harsh soil of Scotland doesn’t yield great variety, but this simple dessert makes the most of what Scotland excels at.

I tried to make Cranachan very soon after I heard about it, which in a stroke of rather bad timing was right after my first trip to Scotland. I can’t say I tried any particularly Scottish desserts on that trip other than some fantastic biscuits served in many of our accommodations, millionaire’s shortbread and some smashingly fantastic ice cream. What I concocted was lovely, but I had no idea how authentic it was. But I did come up with the idea of adding some chocolate chips and crushed shortbread biscuits to the topping because well I subscribe to the idea that chocolate makes pretty much everything better and I was enthralled with shortbread. On my second trip, sampling Cranachan was a priority so on my first afternoon, I braved Storm Ali, which literally blew me up and sidewise across the steps up to the Royal Mile, to have lunch with my aunt at the pub No. 1 High Street, across the street from World’s End Pub, our original destination for which we did not have a reservation and we didn’t want to wait for an hour and half. After an amazing lunch of fish and chips, the whisky in the dessert warmed as we sat in front of the large picture window on the street, steamed up from the heat of diners sheltering from the rain.

Being in Israel, I had to make some adjustments. We do not have the same red raspberries as Scotland but then no one does. Scottish berries of all kinds are sweet and soft and luscious. I head straight to a market in Scotland to stock up on my favorite foods, and berries are high on that list. Though raspberries are currently in season in Israel, I was too late to the market and they were sold out. Oh well, they are also a luxury items here too for some inexplicable reason. Fresh berries run 30 ($7.25) shekels for 150 grams and frozen 13,90 ($3.50), so I bought one container of frozen and some fresh strawberries to help the garnish berries look a bit hardier.   I actually have enough steel cut oats to last me for several years thanks to a well-placed but rather over the top order of four bags from Amazon just before corona shut down delivery to Israel. Whisky I always have in my stash, so I just had to find cream.

This recipe https://www.christinascucina.com/cranachan-lovely-scottish-dessert/ called for oats to be toasted and then soaked in whisky overnight, until you have a sort of tipsy overnight oats. Then you whip the cream with, you guessed it, whisky and some honey and then fold in the whisky-soaked oats. The berries are gently crushed and mixed with yet a few more spoonfuls of whiskey and honey and then layered in a glass, alternating with the whisky oat cream. Top it with a few whole berries and refrigerate to let the flavors mix. The presentation is stunning and will elicit oohs and ahs when you serve it to guests. Whenever that might be.  The taste? Summer in a glass, refreshing but not sweet, instantly transporting me to a Lothian castle hotel where we stayed on the first trip and where I first tasted a fresh Scottish raspberry. I was secretly thrilled that I did not use up all the cream in the parfaits.  It will make a decadent breakfast tomorrow, topping a pancake and strawberries. The cream has oats in it, ye ken.

Is There Travel with Corona?: First Steps in a New Reality

Karen Abu Adra

What happens when a virus steals your passion? If this had been a normal year, I would probably have traveled somewhere this year already. We were looking at a quick jump to Italy. Maybe a week in Germany. At this very moment, I was supposed to be in Scotland. But how will travel change in the age of Covid? Here’s a bit of insight into some of the challenges.

 My husband and I ventured out for a mini break close to home, to the city of Haifa. This kind of vacation will be what most of us will take year if we go anywhere, both because it’s what’s available, and it feels safe. Stores are open in Israel, but restaurants and cafes were still closed to sit down dining. Tourist attractions, including Haifa’s famed Bahai Gardens and even swimming pools were still closed. That was fine with us as we wanted beach access and some hiking.

The first challenge is to find accommodations. Hotels might be open, but not all because if the point of your trip is some poolside sun, and there’s no pool, what’s the point? Do you really want to encounter lots of people? What about breakfast service, which is a major selling point for Israeli hotels? You won’t find neon colored yoghurt in a mini fridge and a few tasteless bagels here. Israeli hotel breakfasts are a colorful display or fruits, vegetables, cheeses, pastries, fresh squeezed juices, salads and omelets. If there is no breakfast service, most Israelis won’t go. Call a few prospects you find online to make sure they are open and that you will feel comfortable with an limitations by which they have to abide. After calling a few hotels, I found some were offering breakfast boxes in your room or no breakfast at all even though the price of the room was not much less than their usual rates. I chose the Bat Galim Boutique Hotel, because it was easy to tell that the receptionist who answered the phone cared, sounded so friendly and comforting and answered questions I didn’t even think to ask. It’s a delightful small hotel with 12 rooms. They served breakfast and true to what I had been told, I didn’t encounter any other guests at breakfast. We could eat in the lobby or outside at tables on the patio shaded by a lemon tree and separated from the street by grape vine planters.

Our goal was beach and nature, and with the beach only 300 meters from the hotel, it was perfect for a nice long stroll. Pre-corona I would average 10,000 steps a day. During corona, well I didn’t even bother looking. As the receptionist said, you could start here and walk to Tel Aviv if you were so inclined. Outdoor activities are perfect as they are the least limited of any. The next day we set out for Nahal Zipori, a nature park with a natural spring pool, a “promenade”, a cement path along the river teeming with birds and turtles, through olive groves and vineyard, and past a monastery. The weather could not have been more perfect, and despite the Muslim holiday of Eid of Fitr, blessedly not crowded.

Meals are a challenge in an unfamiliar city when all you can get is takeaway. My preferred way of getting to know a new place is to walk around and absorb the atmosphere and to use my senses to find a place to eat. We did walk to the German Colony, a beautiful quarter with traditional Arab-style buildings housing outdoor seating restaurants and cafes. The only places open, even for take away, were… Pizza Hut and McDonalds and felafel/shwarma stands. The next day I did a bit of online research and ordered a meal of fattoush, tabooli and shrimp, delivered to the hotel and enjoyed on the patio. It was lovely, but it wasn’t the experience I was used to or would like to have.

For the foreseeable future, the capacity limitation of any indoor attractions, be it a restaurant, theater or museum, will remain one of the biggest issues in travel during covid and the main reason I would postpone any trip that involves more than enjoying nature. Opting for takeout in a park or eating in our rooms takes away some of the fun of travel, because you are less likely to strike up a conversation with the folks sitting on the bench down the way. In addition, in the absence of the full range of restaurants, finding a clean toilet when necessary becomes a challenge. But pack your masks, supply yourself with wipes and sanitizer and do explore within a certain distance from your home. Give your patronage to local businesses who may be on the brink of closure.

A Good Vibe

Karen Abu Adra

Have you ever stepped off a train or car, wandered out of your hotel, or blinking out in the sunlight from the dark of a subway, and felt a jump in your step or a buzz in the air? A place that from first impression just makes you feel you belong there? It doesn’t always happen. In fact, it’s only happened to me three, maybe four times. In the course of time, I will tell you about the others, but this entry is dedicated to Glasgow.

If I ask you what Glasgow is famous for, I bet your answer, if you can come up with one, is something related to the novel or film Trainspotting. Its reputation is as an industrial city that had seen its zenith and now stagnates. How wrong that is! Trainspotting was actually set in Edinburgh, and whatever you like: art, music, nature, shopping, food, Glasgow has it, but its most valuable treasure is human.

Glasgow was the first city I set foot in in Scotland. We arrived late to our hotel on Argyll St, starving after running to make the last connection of the night from Heathrow. It was about 11:30 pm, and the bars had just closed so the streets, in the middle of the week, were filling with drunken revelers seeking to sate their late-night munchies. We followed a few into a chippie and got our portion of salty, fishy goodness. The bar across the street had a huge sign painted at its entrance that read “There are no strangers. Only friends we haven’t met.” That pretty much sums up Glasgow.

The next day was dreich, drizzly and grey, most of the morning, but it didn’t dampen my enthusiasm as I headed to the cathedral and Necropolis. My step was already giddy and even the heavy rain now couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. By mid-afternoon I was chilled to the bone, so I joined my husband, whose Middle Eastern sensibilities don’t see the point of running around in the rain for any reason, who had ducked into the College Inn pub simply because it was there when he had had enough of the rain. Everyone in the pub was over 50, and it was clear they all knew each other. They were singing karaoke and enjoying a pint or a few. But within minutes, people at the next table had come over to chat with us. They asked us where we were from, told us about their planned evening at the theatre and their life stories, and invited us to come back tomorrow when they had time to talk to us. See why I tell you to not plan every minute of your vacation?

Necropolis

Has such a thing ever happened to you? I’ve been to countries where the people and weather are warm and friendly. But never have I been somewhere where I felt such a warm and friendly reception from people I don’t know. A genuineness to hear what your story is and that they are really interested in hearing from you with no sense of feeling like we need to worry about them using us.

Scotland in general is a very friendly country. I have had many unforgettable encounters with locals all over, but Glasgow will always be special. I’ve been twice and still not seen even all the proverbial “must sees”. It’s a little rough around the edges. Not dangerous, but not polished and elegant like Edinburgh.  The kind of rough that breeds cool arts. Glasgow’s slogan is “People Make Glasgow,” and the people truly do make it one of my favorite cities. Now if only they would let me stay….

Retail Death or Small Town Renaissance?

Karen Abu Adra

Lancaster County, PA is a well-known tourist attraction and also where I am from. My parents were born and raised here and 90% of my entire extended family live here, though I called Duchess County, NY home for the first 13 years of my life. I used to spend most of the summers here while my children were growing up, catching up with family and friends and giving my children the experience of another vastly different culture, which allows them to flow between cultures with seamless ease. Now, I come back for a few weeks in the summer and to celebrate Christmas. This holiday season, I was shocked by a major change to an area that has long been a shopping destination for busloads of NY and NJ residents taking advantage of the lack of any sales tax on clothing and shoes and the effects this change could have on culture in the area.

Retail is dying, perhaps already dead.  How much of your holiday shopping did you do online this year? But in an area where outlets dot the landscape and strip malls line all major roads, the empty hulking carcasses with the shadowy outlines of logos are striking. The local mall is a ghost city. People, though fewer, still come yet they look lost- as if this trip had become such a routine part of the lives that they seem to not recall exactly why they come, their favorite stores long gone. Half the retail space in one outlet center is empty. The only brick and mortar businesses still thriving are the Walmarts, Targets, and discount marketers like Marshalls and Nordstrom Rack.

I shop online as much as the next person, but I can’t help but wonder if there is a positive side to the death of retail. My first thought was as crass as the retail consumer culture can be, it got people out of their bubbles and at least afforded the possibility that you might encounter other people who might not be exactly like you. The mall was the place teens hung out, got their first jobs, where you took the family to go Christmas shopping. If we are all online all the time, ordering everything from tidy whiteys to exotic mushrooms to our front door, we don’t mix with anyone who doesn’t have to have contact with us for a job or to provide a personal service.

However, driving back from Philadelphia through the small towns, I noticed a lot of cute new cafes. Cafes didn’t exist in these areas until very recently. Coffee culture, indeed, even the vaguest notion of what an espresso or a latte is, didn’t exist here 15 years ago. Downtowns were all but dead, but slowly they are making a comeback. Some do it better than others such as Lititz, PA, named the coolest small town in the US, with its unique shops, local bookstore and restaurants. Of course, downtown Lancaster has long been revitalizing to the point that the addition of a Starbucks downtown feels like an affront to the local culture. Even tiny Elizabethtown, the college town without much of a town, now has two cafes worth stopping in for a cup or bite. With any luck, these cafes and restaurants will attract more shopping into the downtowns and make them places you can enjoy stopping in as a traveler or hang out and meet your neighbors as a local. That’s been missing in America for a while.

Simply the Best

Karen Abu Adra

Go on any travel group and within a few seconds you will encounter the question “What is the best hotel/airline/restaurant?”  There is no more useless question than this, because the answer is purely objective. We don’t buy a pair of socks without checking multiple sites for reviews so naturally we seek reviews for travel, but this question will lead you to even more confusion than answers. Here’s why.

There is only one answer to the best. End of discussion. The one that best fits your schedule, budget and needs. I am more than happy to answer the question what hotels I liked in this city. Or these two airlines have tickets at the same price; which do you prefer? But there is no best airline or hotel or restaurant. “ABC Airline lost my luggage. They are the worst!” No, that was your experience. They have never lost my luggage, and they upgraded me to business last year. That’s my experience. What can you conclude from this? Nothing.

We once stayed in a charming three-room bed and breakfast that was spacious and beautifully decorated, but the owners own bedroom was right next to a guest room, breakfast was in their dining room and to access the room, you walked past their living room while they sat there watching tv. You put in your custom order for breakfast each evening, and it was waiting for you at the time you specified. There was absolutely nothing to fault at this establishment. However, I would not go back, because I felt like I was walking into someone’s private quarters but not invited to fully partake. This set up might be the highlight of YOUR trip though. I, however, regretted not making it back to a certain city simply because I would have loved to stay again at a particular bed and breakfast where the family’s living area was hidden from guests’ view, but breakfast was served in the most stunningly simple parlor that highlighted local  artwork and whose hostess’s sparkling personality and genuine goodness are simply unforgettable.

You see? No two people will experience the same place in the same way. I book a flight after considering cost, length of a layover, departure and arrival times and cities. I’m not married to a particular airline but have frequent flyer cards for many even if all I ever earn is a free magazine subscription. I do look at the overall rating when booking an overnight accommodation. I’ll read a handful of good and bad reviews once I want to narrow down the choices. I know what I like in an accommodation. I seek out photos of the breakfast, because if all you offer is shrink-wrapped muffins, sweet cereals and neon-colored yoghurt, I won’t choose you. But show me a spread with a variety of hot and cold options, fresh bread and fruit, I will consider you even if the rating is a 7.9. I look for photos of the lobby, which has surprisingly become quite a selling point for me, especially if I am traveling alone and might not want to venture out too far at night, but would like to have a drink while reading a book and have the chance to chat with someone else who is just hanging out there. I am willing to pay a bit extra for this pleasure.

The best restaurant review is a drive by. Or a walk by. Walk around an area as restaurants in most places are generally clustered together. Look where the most people are eating. There’s a reason that it is full. Is the noise level to your liking? Take a gander at the plates around you. I detest a loud restaurant be it the music, utensils clacking or the hum of conversation where you have to shout to be heard. On a recent solo trip to Ireland, I traveled out from Dublin to the sea and had an unforgettable culinary experience. I ordered seafood chowder, a simple local specialty, prepared with quality fresh ingredients. I sat by a window, thickly trimmed with dark wood that looked out onto a roiling stormy sea. Traditional Irish music played softly. Everything in this restaurant stimulated my senses but didn’t overwhelm me. It was bliss. For ME.

So do your research but don’t stress. Don’t make dinner reservations for every night before setting foot in the city. Learn to trust your own instincts and senses, and surprise yourself. You might not always find a treasure, but the experience will be unforgettable.