Paris’s Jardin du Luxembourg and my musings on expat life

In a little old house that was covered with vines,
lived 12 little girls in two straight lines.

For as long as I can remember, I have been borderline obsessed with Paris. I blame my mom, who bought me Madeline books. Remember how the book started?

My house was neither old nor plant-covered. But I had a lamp shaped like the Eiffel Tower and black and white postcards of Paris in the 30s that I garnered at a rummage sale tacked to my bulletin board.
Eiffel Tower Paris

Growing up in the suburbs of a major city, my jaunts into Chicago seemed to go along with the soundtrack of a coming-of-age movie from the 80s: I wanted to live and breath the big city lights, maybe work for a glossy and have a string of good-looking boyfriends. Which is the plot to essentially every movie that came out when I was a teen.

When I asked my mom to let me study French in middle school, she told me Spanish would be far more useful in a future career. At 13, I didn’t know that learning another language would allow me to pivot from magazine editor to ESL teacher. Not as glamorous as I’d hoped, of course, but everyone starts somewhere.

“We breathe in our first language, and swim in our second.”

Ever since I read Adam Gopnick’s account of expatriated life in the French capital, “Paris to the Moon,” I was resolute that I’d live abroad at some point in my life. I didn’t particularly love the book – required reading for one of my college courses about Parisian architecture – but I did love what it represented: freedom, adventure and a healthy dose of red tape.

Autumn in Paris

My class was meant to be a study in Eiffel and Hausmann. Instead, it was two Midwesterners waxing poetic about the bistros and brasseries just steps away from the Sorbonne. Iowa City is 4,291 miles away from Paris, but that Spring 2005 class somehow seemed to push me towards Europe and towards a city that held so many of my teenaged dreams.

I’d had one of those soul-restoring deep sleeps and woke up early on the first truly autumnal Sundays in Paris. My work trips always fall on a Sunday – a godsend for catching Parisians at play but nearly impossible for eating anything decent. I put on a Mango dress that passed as a raggedy version of Chanel and some lipstick and took the RER down to Luxembourg.

boats on the basin in Luxembourg2

Gopnick often wrote about taking his young son to the Luxembourg gardens – in fact, it’s on the cover of the original 2000 book, a collection of essays he wrote for the New Yorker. I’ve criss-crossed Paris on half a dozen occasions, but usually as the tote-along on a first timer’s foray into Paris, or as a 24-hour stopover punctuating a long work trip. I purposely booked the last Eurostars train out of London so that I could take advantage of a late September morning and visit the park.

Armed with a baguette (fine, it was left over from my London trip and a little soggy) and a jacket draped over my arm, I found the eastern gate of the gardens, constructed in the 17th Century by Marie de Midici. It was just before noon and the Eiffel tower peeked over golden-tipped leaves, reflected in the small, circular pool. My college professors has spoken about the Palace du Luxembourg – its history, its current use in the French senate – but I was contented to have it as a backdrop to the children sailing model boats, their flags and colors somewhat tattered, on the pool.

Cat Gaa in Paris

Olive green metal chairs ring the basin, some reclining towards the sky. I dragged a free sear on the southwest side of the park towards the sun and unwrapped my sandwich. A man crumbled the end of his baguette and fed it to a pigeon while a mother scolded her child in French for nearly climbing into the pool after the stick he was using to guide the boat drifted away from his fingertips. Chatter came from all around me in about half a dozen languages. I’ve always said said markets and plazas were the best place to catch Spaniards wrapped up in everyday life; in Paris, it’s Luxembourg.

Somehow, everything and everyone is picturesque and chic and unsoiled here.

Hell, even my soggy baguette tasted magical because I was eating it in Paris.

“This can shake you up, this business of things almost but not quite being the same. 
A pharmacy is not quite a drugstore; a brasserie is not quite a coffee shop; 
a lunch is not quite a lunch.” 

As a perennial American abroad, I now see my own adulthood reflected in Gopnick’s telling of the mundane – as well as the truly fantastic – parts of expat life. I didn’t know it at the time, but the cadence of my life in Spain would be similar: everything and nothing is the same as back home.

Later that afternoon, post-recruitment event and a few cheeky beers with colleagues, I returned on foot to the garden. Nestled between the 5eme and 6eme arrondisments, I had two choices: using Luxembourg as my anchor, I could follow a foot map along the highlights of the district, or wander around. My professors had laid out all of the 5ème for me, so I veered into the 6ème.

Parisian bistros

Snaking down the Rue du Condé that flanks the Odéon theatre towards the Sorbonne, some of the major highlights the professors talked about in class were suddenly right in front of me. Every alleyway offered me a glimpse into the allure of Paris. Long-legged university students pulled their jackets tighter as they glided down the steps of the Sorbonne’s medical school. It all seemed so Truman Show – until the cost of a beer and the snobbery when I asked to pay with a card brought this Midwesterner right back.

In Paris we have a beautiful existence but not a full life, 
and in New York we have a full life but an unbeautiful existence.

Gopnick’s wife says, upon deciding to return home, that “In Paris we have a beautiful existence but not a full life, and in New York we have a full life but an unbeautiful existence.” I find my experience to be the contrary: my life feels fuller and far more rosy in Spain.

Since that class, ARTH 3020: Paris and the Art of Urban Life, the Parisian joie de vivre and, alas, European life and the string of attractive (foreign) boyfriends has alluded me. My life in Spain is often chaotic and has a noticeable lack of afternoons whiled away at the brasserie down the block. But the small victories and the sobremesa and the afternoons in a complete trance over how I ended up here are fuel. They’re what has kept me in Spain.

Jardin du Luxembourg at dusk

I’m sure that, had I chosen Paris over Seville, I’d be fighting the urge to look at my phone while my child played with a model boat at Luxembourg. And that I’d have stepped in something or spilled on myself or still gotten a zit at an inopportune moment.

Every time I return to my childhood bedroom, I switch on the gaudy Eiffel Tower lamp and drag a finger along the dozen or so books that I haven’t given away. Paris to the Moon is one of them, standing between the Michelin Le Guide Vert that was its class companion and a well-worn copy of a Let’s Go Europe book, published in the same year as the summer I spent in Spain. In an age where mobile phones dictate where we travel and what we share – and even prevent us from losing ourselves in a city – the book is a tangible reminder of the life I chose in Spain.

“There are two kinds of travelers. 
There is the kind who goes to see what there is to see, and the kind who has 
an image in his head and goes out to accomplish it. 
The first visitor has an easier time, but I think the second visitor sees more.”

If you’re my kind of traveler, you enjoy meandering around and taking it all in rather than ticking sites off of a list. I’ve been to Paris half a dozen times and have done all of the big draws, so this time I wanted to wander through a new arrondisment on a free evening I had in the French capital.

Eiffel tower at night

I used the GPS MyCity app for points of interest around the 5ème and 6ème during my afternoon off in Paris – you can easily download sightseeing or local haunts maps and use them offline in more than 1000 cities worldwide.

Comment below for your chance to win a year’s subscription to GPSMyCity and tell me a city you love to get lost in or hope to soon!

Disclosure: I was not paid for this post but GPSMyCity kindly offered me a one-year Premium Pass, which I’ll also us in Vienna next week. All opinions are my own.

Top Croatian Attractions Beyond Dubrovnik

Croatia. The beautiful Mediterranean country has become the new Greece, and rightfully so: Croatia is full of seaside towns, gorgeous scenery and historical sites.

cat on dubrovnik city walls

Tourism in Croatia is anchored around Dubrovnik: the impact of the HBO show Game Of Thrones on Croatia’s surge in popularity is impossible to ignore. Famously depicting a vast fantasy world, the show uses Dubvronik for some of its most stunning and iconic sets, and, coupled with social media, it has led droves of tourists to flock to the capital and experience the fantasy in real life.

As the Adriatic nation climbs up the world tourism ranks, there’s still a great deal to see and do beyond Dubrovnik. My first solo trip was to Zadar and Split – a RyanAir roulette had me on a plane to the Istrian and Dalmatian coasts for five days. From the first bite of cevapi, I was keen to return to some of the natural and cultural highlights of a broader exploration of Croatia.

Hvar Town

HvarTown_1

Hvar Island is not exactly off-the-beaten-path, given that it’s frequently mentioned as a top attraction in Croatia and located near the center of the country (Oh, and Lonely Planet named it “Best of the Best” in 2018, so go before it’s overrun with chain restaurants). From Split, it’s a quick ferry ride and my fondest memory of my night there were the cotton-candy pink sunsets over bobbing boats around an tucked-away bay.

The island boasts a beautiful seaside town where you can choose to soak up luxury or simply relax on the beach. The Old Town, designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is crowned by an old fortress, red-tiled homes toppling down towards the bay.

Plitvice Lakes National Park

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Croatia has a few national parks, and Plitvice Lakes National Park is the crown jewel (and has an argument as Croatia’s most stunning destination). Essentially an opportunity for some nature-based sightseeing, it’s a lush area with over 90 waterfalls and 16 different lakes arranged like terraces – all with walkways winding through and around them. It’s hard to believe the area is natural, but aside from the walkways and a bit of grooming and upkeep, it is!

The national park is located inland, close to the Bosnian border, is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Pula Arena

PulaAmphitheatre_1

Pula Arena, a 200 year old ampitheatre, is modeled after the Colliseum in Rome and is Croatia’s oldest monument. Dalmatian and Roman history is deep-rooted (Hvar was once an important commercial and military town), and Pula was at the center of their empire.

Today the arena is used for cultural programming but, architecturally speaking, it is noted for its four intact towers that once held cisterns that could be used for heat control. Do you think they could do that at the Giralda?

Casino Mulino

Mulino_1

Romans weren’t the only people to settle in Croatia – Venetians made the Dalmatian coast part of their vast trading empire. When I spent time in Dubrovnik, it almost felt like I was in Italy – the cuisine and lifestyle echoed la dolce vita. In fact, the first known European casino was founded in the first half of the 17th Century in Venice, and many Croatian islands soon became known for scenery, beaches, and gambling.

Casino Hotel Mulino on Istria was recently hailed as one of the top casinos in the world to visit in 2018. This one has a classy European feel to it, and actually makes for a nice change of pace from more supercharged nightlife.

Diocletian’s Palace in Split

DiocletiansPalace_1

Another Roman relic dating back somewhere in the neighborhood of 2,000 years. This largely outdoor museum is believed to have been his vacation home in the beautiful area that is now the thriving coastal city of Split. It’s a fascinating historical landmark to explore and, like Pula Amphitheatre, is in surprisingly good shape.

Split itself merits time – as Croatia’s second largest city, it has traces of Venetian, Roman and Ottoman rule in its architecture and local culture and has brought up literary and artistic giants. The entire historic center is – you guessed it – a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Mljet

Mljet_1

Mljet is another Dalmatian island (in fact, the country has more than 1000 islands!), but one to keep on your radar if you’re looking to get away from the major destinations, or even civilization to some extent. That’s not to say it’s by any means untouched, but  it’s an island full of forests and protected national park land, and with an intriguing connection to myth and history as a rumored favorite of the legendary hero Odysseus. In fact, you can even hike to a cave associated with this mammoth figure of lore! Your high school English teacher would be proud.

When should I visit Croatia?

You can get to Dubrovnik – as well as a number of other Croatian destinations – through budget airlines in Europe, and ferries operate from Italy and Greece.

Because of the surge in visitors, most would suggest shoulder season (May-June and Sept-Oct). My first visit was in early June, and I found half-empty ferries, cheap hostel beds and a lovely young Couchsurfing host who wasn’t yet jaded from all of the tourism.

Desinations in Croatia Dubrovnik

If you’re in Dubrovnik, considering a pop down to Kotor, Montenegro. Europe’s youngest country is yet to be bombarded with tourists and is a budget alternative. Hayley and I did a road trip after getting our newly-minted EU licenses!

Have you ever been to Croatia, especially inland Croatia? I’d love to hear your tips!

Exploring the Wonders of Dalt Vila, Ibiza’s Old Town

There’s more to Ibiza than Pacha, the jet set or kitesurfing.

Dalt Vila, meaning ‘Upper Town’, is a significant fortified acropolis that has retained all of its charm; in fact, it is one of the most picturesque old towns in Spain. The winding, narrow and steep cobbled streets, the vast terraces and the high ramparts all exude wonder, magic and a colorful history. Listed as a World Heritage Site, UNESCO describes Ibiza’s old town as exceptionally well preserved and note the evident historical imprints of the Renaissance, the Catalans, Arabs and Phoenicians. Dalt Vila is a sublime place to visit for lovers of history and culture. Join me as we explore the wonders of this magical town on this popular island.

The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Snows

​​Image by juantiagues, used under Creative Commons license (CC BY-SA 2.0)

With a history that dates back to the 13th Century stretching through to its gothic refurbishment in the 18th Century, the cathedral of Dalt Vila is a central attraction of the town – one you certainly do not want to miss. Sitting at the top of the acropolis, it offers tremendous panoramic views of Ibiza. The beautiful cathedral also holds several significant pieces of art.

The Puget Museum

This museum is also one for the art lovers and is home to a number of works by Ibizan artists, such as Narcis Puget Vina and his son, Narcis Puget Riquer. The Puget Museum hosts temporary exhibitions, too, so it is always worth having a look in advance at the artwork they will be displaying.

The Necropolis of Puig des Molins

This massive necropolis houses over 3,000 tombs that date back to the Phoenician era and the era of the Punics (Carthaginians). Exhibited in the Monographic Puig des Molins Museum, the magnificence of this archaeological find is only bettered by the tremendous collection housed at the museum – a collection consisting of the Phoenician, Punic and Roman artifacts found in Ibiza. It is here that you will discover the depth of Dalt Vila’s history.

dalt-vila

Es Caná and Santa Eulalia

These two resorts are great places to utilize as a base to explore Dalt Vila. Es Caná is a relatively small resort that is relaxed and friendly but with a lively air thanks to the popular weekly Hippy Market. Santa Eulalia, on the other hand, is a quieter destination popular with families and gastronomes, what with its long-established reputation as the culinary centre of the island. Both have golden beaches to enjoy as well.

Fine Dining

Talking of fine dining, eating in Dalt Vila is also an easy affair with a plethora of fine restaurants to choose from. The dishes to try are the two delicious traditional specialties: guisat de peix, which is a fish stew, and peix sec, which is dried fish.

Even more wonders

There are even more wonders to discover in Dalt Vila, this brief guide does not even scratch the surface of the treasures that await you. From the awe-inspiring castle that stands on top of the acropolis, to the sixteenth century fortified walls that embrace the unique architecture, to the monumental Sacred Heart of Jesus, to the many nearby beaches, Ibiza’s old town is a richly rewarding experience. Just remember to take a comfy pair of shoes, for the simple pleasure of a romantic walk with stunning views is what Dalt Vila does best.

​​Image by Michela Simoncini, used under Creative Commons license (CC BY 2.0)

Ibiza and the Islands are on my short list for next year – though partying with a newborn is not happening. Any great tips for food, sites or excursions?

On Pessoa, Portuguese Cuisine and Hidden Tastes: a Food Tour with Taste of Lisboa

The prolific Portuguese philosopher and writer Fernando Pessoa had no less than 80 heteronyms, facets of his personality re-imagined as thinkers and poets in his most notable works. And from his home in Campo de Ourique, where he lived on the last decade-and-a-half of his life, he explored the many sides of human life.

lisbon poets

And for someone who knew very little of Portuguese food outside of pasteis de Belem and mil manheras of serving cod, a historical food tour with Taste of Lisboa introduced me not only to Pessoa and his neighborhood, but of the multi-faceted nature of Portuguese cuisine from the very district where food trends are born.

Warning: no bachalau or custard tarts were consumed on this tour.

Climbing the historic Tram 28’s route that snakes through Graça, Alfama, Chaido and Estrela, we left Tourist Lisbon on six of the city’s seven hills and climbed higher on Colina Saõ Roque towards Campo de Ourique and the Prazeres Cemetery. Aptly named the Cemetery of Pleasures, our three-hour tour would begin here and wind us around to taste some of Lisbon’s most pleasurable treats.

Historic Tram 28 Lisbon

Lisbon and I have had a complicated relationship since 2007, when I struggled to understand the city’s vibe, its colorful history and why everyone seemed to love it so much. My country list then could be counted on two hands, and I had yet to learn how to be a savvy traveler. This meant far too many pastries and far too much money spent at mediocre touristic restaurants near Baixa. A second trip in 2011 was plagued by rain and that too-long-to-look-up-its-name volcanic eruption. Tiled homes, an empty hillside castle and Sagres imperiales were my biggest takeaways from Spain’s westernly neighbor.

Campo de Ourique was sleepy on a Tuesday morning as shops opened a few minutes past the hour and locals crowded into cafes for an espresso to accompany their flaky pastries. We got off a stop too early, giving us time to wander the parish’s main thoroughfares before meeting Filipa, a Lisboner and lifelong foodie who began Taste of Lisboa two years ago.

portuguese tiles

Like all food tours, there is an exchange of pleasantries. Where are you from? How did you hear about the tour? Oh, you blog and we have friends in common? I’d been told of the friendliness of the Portuguese, and with a wink and a few jabs at Spanish cuisine and culture, Filipa became a foodie friend.

The location for a food tour was no accident, though we’d picked it for its minimal walking – Campo de Ourique, a historically upper-middle class district considered a city within a city, bustles with concept restaurants, budding chefs and a part-market, part-international food haven sat squarely in the middle. From the start, I was surprised to find that cod had been left (mostly) off of the menu, anda sweet treat was up first.

“Unlike the Spaniards, we are quite humble when it comes to our cuisine,” Filipa stated, looking squarely at me. “But this is not something we claim for our sweets. Our chocolate cake is the best in the world.”

Where to find the best chocolate cake in Lisbon

The small pastry shop, imaginatively named O Melhor Bolo de Chocolate do Mundo, had just two round tables and eight chairs for our group of 11. I am one of those foodie anomalies – gasp! I don’t like chocolate! – but as the creator of the world’s best chocolate cake, Carlos Braz Lopes, turned up in the shop, I eagerly shoveled it into my mouth.

With a espresso cup of port wine on the house, we toasted what could be the best slice of cake I’ve ever had, layered with bitter chocolate and meringue. Portuguese custard and egg sweets may be known worldwide, but I was astonished at the complexity of a simple cake made from six ingredients that had been created by a former businessman with a killer sweet tooth (psst! There’s a shop in Madrid!).

Enjoying a food tour in Lisbon

Just across the street is the newly remodeled Mercado de Campo de Ourique, a fusion of traditional Portuguese cookery and fare with a fish and vegetable market. Tile-lined food stalls ring the perimeter, with high tables and stools occupying the center, much like Madrid’s Mercado de San Miguel. For someone who shops in a market regularly, I was drawn to the food more than the googly-eyed fish near the entrance.

Filipa brought us right to the salads stand. As Catholics and a people whose history is rich with seafaring explorers and far-flung colonies, Portuguese food combines ingredients from all over the world, making Spanish stews and legumes seem rudimentary and almost convoluted. Even the octopus salad I ordered brought out new flavors from one of my go-to summer dishes, flavored with a touch of cilantro and sweet red pepper instead of tomatoes.

marinated octopus salad

We ordered several dishes, all with a legume and fish base, like black eyed peas with flaky cod and tuna. As the food cooked, we sampled fried pork skin laced with black pepper, leitão à bairrada, and learned the origin of convent sweets – an abundance of eggs and flour plus sugar-hungry, bored nuns.

Perhaps the biggest surprise were the peixinhos da horta, or the small fish of the garden, green beans fried in tempura, another Portuguese invention born out of the Lenten tradition to abstain from meat. Tempura itself was created here, though perfected in Asia.

Portuguese craft beer

Mussels were next on the list, and Filipa led us to a concept bar where there’s little else on the menu but the clams and craft beer. Like Spain’s recent craft beer explosion, small batch breweries are elbowing into Sagres’s cornered market while producing not only great flavors but sexy marketing and names that poke fun at gluttony and excess.

Mussels (Moules) in Lisbon

And then there were the mussels themselves, cooked in butter and full cloves of garlic and seasoned with cilantro and a bit of lemon. Normally one to pass up the mollusks in favor of altramuces or boiled shrimp at a cervecería, I bravely took the first two bites to remind my family that half the fun of traveling is trying new foods.

The buttery flavor against the salty squish of the orange flesh added a different dimension to the mejillones I’d tried and quickly dismissed in my early days in Spain. I dug in to the brimming buckets, happy as a clam (pun intended) to have some time to visit with the other two American families who had joined us. The three young girls between them – no older than 12 – were pulling apart the had, shiny shells and slurping the mollusks down between sips of water.

Pessoa was a man of fine wine and ginjha, a cherry liquor served in nondescript, closet-sized bars. A Brasileira, the Cafe Irún to Pessoa’s Hemingway, is one of Lisbon’s oldest and most beloved cafes, and Pessoa is rumored to have sipped bica, espresso with sugar, and absinthe here with the occasional wine.

“Life is good, but wine is better,” he said of his love of the drink.

Foodie Experiences in Lisbon

I’ve long enjoyed port wine and the vinhos verdes, or young wines, cultivated in the Minho province. Filipa took us next to taste different wines from the country’s 2700 hectares of vineyards. In true neighborhood shop fashion, locals can bring their own bottles or wine glasses, try a few varieties, and then bottle up and take home their favorites.

Paired with a strong cheese and quince paste, even my mother enjoyed them.

cod fritter and naughty rice in Lisbon

The next stop had us in front of Pessoa’s last residence, right in the heart of Campo de Ourique. Crumbling buildings covered in tiles sandwiched the small museum, housed in an apartment complex, and its award-winning restaurant, which served us cod fritters (they were, sadly, forgettable, so excuse the claim that I ate no cod on the tour) and a creamy rice with another glass of wine.

Having consumed several dishes by this point and being in the very place where Pessoa’s landmark book, Disquiet, was found after his death, I had a completely different perception of Portuguese food and its intricacies. Like a human being, its relationships as much as its evolution and environment make it what it is, and different situations call for a multitude of adaptations.

Portugal’s tangled history is perhaps the cuisine’s biggest element, but there is much more than meets the eye – and stomach, for that matter.

spongecake Lisboa style

Campo de Ourique had one more dish for us to try, this time in the city’s hospitality school and concept restaurant. Just as we’d started the day with sweets, we’d end with a spongecake, pão de lo, made with nothing more than yolks, flour and sugar.

Proving once more that I knew absolutely nothing about Portuguese food, my spoon sliced into the toasty top of the cake, cutting into a creamy, spongy substance that in no way resembled the sponge cake I’d made as a kid for summer picnics. I scraped the waxy paper holding it all together, eager for the last few sticky crumbs.

Fernando Pessoa once said, “I have no philosophy: I have senses.” And I think I just found mine when it comes to tastes and food prejudices. The tour was more than just a way to spend a few hours with my family and share my travel style with them (and making Christmas shopping a one-gift production).

Lisbon and I had finally found a common ground: good food.

Taste of Lisboa Food Tours

I paid my own way on the Taste of Lisboa Food Tour; all opinions are my own and do not reflect a collaboration between SandS and Taste of Lisboa or any of its affiliates. You can find out more about Filipa’s food tours and courses on Taste of Lisboa’s website.

Why You Need This Adult Coloring Book Dedicated to Wanderlust

It was a night like any other: I was watching clips of America’s Next Top Model (shame, shame) when my Macbook Air screen when blank. It was a sign for me to go to bed, I presumed, so I clicked it shut and set it on my nightstand.

The following morning, I heard the familiar cha-CHUUUUUN that my Mac cries when turning on, and even though the keys glowed, the Black Screen of Death stared at me. I remember sighing heavily before reaching for my phone for a homemade remedy, cursing myself for updating the system before.

work online

After a few uninspired attempts to reboot a perfectly healthy system that recently underwent surgery to make it faster and more secure, I relented and took it into the Mac repair shop in Los Remedios.

Mr. Mac confirmed my fears: the cable that connects the screen to the keyboard was shot, probably from my long hours watching American TV series, mindlessly clicking on wikipedia articles and writing for SandS, COMO Consulting and other publications. And it was going to cost me at least 500€ to fix.

OK Universe, I heard you loud and clear: My computer does not have to be my best friend.

I had ideas for posts bursting out of my head, 89 unread blog posts from other sites I follow and several emails to get to, but I opted for a nap. A bonafide, not-binge-watching-Shonda-Rimes-dramas-and-calling-it-rest nap.

Faced with an afternoon with not much to do and spending money reserved for rescuing my Mac, I was desperate to find an activity to do at home that didn’t involve a screen. I came up with cleaning, which I’d done two days prior or organizing my desk. From under a stack of papers and lesson plans for the month, I unearthed Travel Between the Lines, and adult coloring book that my friend Geoff and Katie Matthews of Wandertooth Blog sent my way. I smiled – the cover features Lisbon, where I had recently traveled with my family.

Adult Coloring Books

Digging out and sharpening my set of colored pencils, I turned on a podcast and set to work on the first photo I turned to: street scene of rural Barichara, Colombia on page 22. Three-quarters of an hour of shading, lining and sharpening later, I’d used bright colors to turn whitewashed Barichara – which could have easily been a town in the mountains of Spain – into a technicolor dream, complete with a shiny new motorcycle leaned against the wall of the home.

For someone who daydreams about far-flung locales, I didn’t want Pinterest or the internet skewing with my creative juices on this project.

Adult coloring books have made a splash recently for their stress-melting power. And as an early millennial with her heart still stuck in the 90s, I have to admit that I felt like a kid again, more concentrated on shading and what color to paint the roofs than my broken computer. Plus, I had something to do while chatting on the phone with my mom on Sundays or before bed that didn’t require another screen.

Skepticism hadn’t crossed my mind when it came to the adult coloring book craze, as it seemed like yet one more thing on my bookshelf. But here’s why you should have one:

Serious wanderlust is ahead

I met Geoff for an early afternoon beer at a cervecería buried somewhere in Macarena. It was early, but anyone ho can match me for beers after Spanish class is a friend in my book. Studying at Sevilla Habla language school, Geoff was spending a few weeks in Seville and would soon be joined by his wife, Katie. The married Canadians had been traveling since 2009 full-time and have been to more than three dozen countries.

And that’s where this book comes in. Katie is the wordsmith of Wandertooth and Geoff is the visual video storyteller, but there’s little need for words or moving pictures in this book: there are 47 black-and-white pictures of their travels from 29 countries.

detail of Travel Between the Lines photos

Flipping through, I recognized a few places – the effervescent Eiffel Tower of Paris, home to my childhood wanderlust; the chain bridge in Budapest, a city I fell hard for; the place of my expat nightmares, Plaza de España in Seville. But more often than not, I couldn’t tell if the pictures were Asia or Central America or Europe.

All of the photos belong to Katie and Geoff

When Wandertooth came up with the idea for Travel Between the Lines, they were already seasoned globetrotters who had lived around the world. They sent their personal pictures to a designer, who in turn transformed them into art you could personalize. As travelers and part-time locals in many of these places, it’s like discovering a new place with a fresh set of eyes. Plus, they share two-line vignettes about their travels to each of the destinations featured at the back of the book.

Katie and Geoff Matthews

Geoff and Katie Matthews. Photo courtesy of Wandertooth.

What’s more, some of the drawings are easy to finish (think attending high tea in London) whereas other offer more of a challenge – kind of like haggling at a souk in Morocco or wondering what exactly you’re eating at a street market in Taiwan.

And by being 8.5″x11,” they can easily adorn your cubicle or cork board once you finish and rip them out. Think of it as a Color Me Mine for the clumsy or the minimalistic.

Support small businesses and publishers

Perhaps more important than fueling your wanderlust during your morning commute, Katie and Geoff are digital entrepreneurs and small business owners – even if their office has sand for a floor. Your purchase of the Travel Between the Lines helps them keep traveling, creating and running a digital empire.

Travel Between the Lines Coloring Book

And, like every Canadian I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, they’re crazy personable and very nice! And they make excellent tapas crawlers.

So while those 500€ to fix my Mac ended up being 189€ (and thus a plane ticket anywhere during Holy Week), a few minutes doodling and coloring is tiding me over.

Want to Get Your Hands on the Book?

Break out your colored pencils – and your phone camera! I’ve teamed up with Wandertooth to give you an adult coloring book – and I’ll send it anywhere in this big, wide world. 

All you have to do is follow me on instagram and a tag up to five photos with a place you’d love to see featured in an adult coloring book with the tag #mytravelbtwnlines. Think exotic, spiritual, adrenaline-pumping…and anywhere in between! Or, you can tweet them to me at @sunshinesiestas with the hashtag #mytravelbtwnlines.

Be sure to include the city and country it’s in and a quick description, along with your name and first initial so that I can contact you if we choose your photo.

Contest runs until March 31st, after which the winner will be notified. Winner has until April 10th to claim their prize, lest another pinner take your prize!

You can nab Travel Between the Lines: Inspirational Coloring for Globetrotters and Daydreamers on Amazon, or enter this contest for a free copy, courtesy of Geoff and Katie. And – psst! – another book is on the way! You might even see my hand wrapped around a cervecita on a warm March day featured!

why you need this

Have you ever bought an adult coloring book?

My American Crush on Memphis (Or, How I Realized Just How American I Am)

Our rented Kia Soul’s direction was mainly southwest down I-55 to Saint Louis before we dipped slightly further south and nudged a bit east into the Deep South. As a Yankee and expat overseas, my forays into American life had been limited to power points about Thanksgiving and begging sports bars to show American football.

It wasn’t until Memphis – 570 miles and eight hours southwest of my hometown – that the meaning of being an American abroad hit me by seeing my country from the outside in for once. And it took a Spaniard abroad to point that out.

downtown memphis streets

Lucía was cooking puchero in her olla exprés when we arrived to her condo on Mud Island. Out her kitchen window sat downtown Memphis and the ghastly pyramid. And out her living room window, the Mississippi thundered by, eventually dumping out into the Gulf of Mexico. Her 18-month-old daughter played nearby with a series of books in both Spanish and English.

“Just have to wait until this is done, and we can head out,” she said, handing the Novio and I a bottle of American beer. “Oh! And I took tomorrow off of work to be your guide.”

Lucía and I have known each other since I moved to Spain. Staunchly andaluza with a world view – she’s worked in half a dozen countries as a medic and EMT – she and I have always had a lot in common. And she and the Novio have been friends for well over a decade. As we planned a road trip down to New Orleans, a stop in Bluff City was a non-negotiable pit stop, even if it meant one night fewer in NOLA.

South Main District Memphis

Memphis has been a always been a thread weaved into my formative years, I’ve realized six months later. My father spent most of his working life at Federal Express, whose headquarters is in Memphis. I grew up on Elvis and rock n’ roll. My elementary school was called Martin Luther King, Jr. Elementary School. Ask me what foods I miss most from the US, and pulled pork with baked beans push into the top five.

While reluctant to spend two nights in Memphis, I welcomed the opportunity to see Lu, cross into a new state and stuff myself, post-wedding, on BBQ. Armed with a list of my dad’s list of musts – the Peabody Ducks, blues joints and ribs – we pulled up to the condo as dusk was falling behind us in Arkansas, snaking through a construction-riddled downtown 3rd Street.

Lucía and her husband may be doctors, but they’re also history buffs, rooted in Memphian and American life with one foot firmly planted in the Spanish camp. Sounds familiar. We five piled in the car for a quick trip around Mud Island, where the city’s elite (and my other Noviom Justin Timberlake) live relatively crime-free in what is considered one of America’s most dangerous cities.

Memphis TN and the Mississippi

Growing up in Rockford, Illinois, the Rock River – one of the Mississippi’s tributaries – seemed to separate upper middle class from the lower class as the Mississippi did in Memphis. Downtown gleamed in the twilight against a ruddy river. I brought up the Civil Rights Movement and my afternoon trip to the National Civil Rights Museum museum, housed in the motel where MLK was shot. As I stood in the very room where he died, my mind racing back to my formative years, learning about tolerance and equal rights. The museum was among the best I’ve seen.

It’s a touchy subject, but I wanted an outside perspective on the Black Lives Matter and the race riots. Memphis’s population is predominately black and the city is considered the poorest metropolitan area in the United States. Lucía and Isra looked at each other and she said to wait until the following day, when she’d be our private tour guide through not just downtown Memphis, but the last century or so of its history.

Memphis South Main

The following morning, I woke up to the smell of Spanish coffee. Lu sped us through our morning routine, promising a muggy, hazy August morning outside. We walked south on Mud Island, the toddler holding my hand as I struggled to wade through the heat. Mosquitos buzzed all around my head – here’s the wet, hot American summer I’d been missing.

Mud Island houses an outdoor museum featuring a small-scale Mississippi River at a 2112:1 scale. From the watershed walls that feature my home state to several of the places we stopped in as we traveled south along a portion of the Mighty Mississippi’s 954 miles, I explained how Old Man River (and rivers in general) had been a feature in my entire life – like reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer hald a dozen times or using the crossing on the I-80 as a marker on my trips to and from Iowa City during college. What brought commerce to Tennessee made it the center of the world for package distribution decades later.

We were promptly chased out at 9:50am, told the River Walk didn’t open until 10.

Our next stop was St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, where both Lucía and Isra work. Having done fundraisers for the hospital as a child and volunteered with families experiencing pediatric cancer throughout college, I couldn’t believe I was finally standing in the temple that Danny Thomas built. I thought of my friend Kelsey, who died from complications with leukemia shortly before her 22nd birthday in 2011 and in whose memory I walked part of the Camino de Santiago. The whole place was magical – the entire staff smiled, despite the troubling nature of their work, and we quickly scratched our plans to donate money to Air Force Orphans. 

Choose 901 Memphis

Isra was in his office, studying for a procedure he’d perform that afternoon. As a highly skilled worker, he’d been invited as a pediatric resident to St. Jude’s – a testament to his brilliance and compassion. Lucía researches cures. And I teach prepositions. Consider me humbled.

Shortly after, we parked downtown on the former Cotton Row. Lucía spends most of her free time reading history books, and her running commentary of Memphis’s history against the backdrop of the brick buildings and blues joints gave the city more context than any museum could have.

Founded by Andrew Jackson for its strategic location on a high bluff, Memphis quickly grew into a commercial capital, thanks to its cotton crop and access to the Mississippi. This brought a large number of African American slaves with it, even post-war, to work as laborers. Changes in demographics would lead to decades of unrest between the affluent Whites – mainly Irish immigrants – and Blacks. We weaved throughout the downtown area, the historically Black neighborhood, and near Victorian Row to see just how different life was for the two.

Crumbling Memphis buildings

Many of Memphis’s storefronts are boarded up and out of business, just steps away from the landmark Peabody Hotel or Orpheum Theatre that once played host to Blues and Rock n’Roll greats. Riots after King’s assassination at the Lorraine Motel only marginalized the city’s black population, which resided mostly in the lower middle class district south of downtown, now known as the South Main Arts District.

Lucía recounted the last five decades’ history over beers at the Arcade Diner, an iconic Memphian restaurant that Elvis once frequented. The six blocks that comprised the district had once been home to the booming railway business but fell into disrepair in the 1950s. Iconic Hotel Chisca and its radio station closed. Now, it’s experiencing a revitalization and were filled with craft beer breweries, oyster bars, galleries and pop-up shops. Think exposed brick and old signs and general gentrification- this part of the city came to represent Memphis for me: a city that knows how to bounce back. A city that holds its head high. A city whose past is pushing it into the future.

Beale Street Memphis signs

Later that night, we gorged on ribs at Rendezvous before strolling down Beale Street. Blues tumbled out of bars and the neon lights lit up the night. Over whiskey, our anfitriones told us what we already knew: the Black population in Memphis were feeling the heat. Even in a city that is predominantly Black and that once tried to resist slavery, the Confederacy and even segregated schools, it’s still considered an unsafe city and one that locals decry for censoring the media. We were there just two weeks after Trey Bolton, a Memphis cop, was killed.

And Memphis didn’t riot. In Memphis, acceptance is now preached as the city moves past MLK, the Memphis Riots of 1866 and the slavery that propelled it into one of the South’s most prosperous cities. As Black Memphis Police Director Toney Armstrong said shortly after the shooting, “All Lives Matter.” 

lorraine motel memphis

Like MLK’s iconic speech the night before his assassination, something is happening.

Something is happening in Memphis; something is happening in our world. And you know, if I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of taking a kind of general and panoramic view of the whole of human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, “Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?” […]

Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the 20th century, I will be happy.”

Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land; confusion all around. That’s a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a way that men, in some strange way, are responding.

Something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry is always the same: “We want to be free.”

“I have been to the Mountaintop” – Martin Luther King, Jr., April 1968

In a 21st Century frame, it’s still relevant – and call me crazy, but I think I saw the manifestation of that in Memphis. So, yeah. I had a big crush on gtirry Bluff City and what it stands for:

Memphis quality

And in many ways, Memphis was a representation of the values my parents tried teaching me when I was young: acceptance, humility, hard work and compassion for others. When we pulled back onto the I-55 for a long trips towards New Orleans, I grew quiet, thinking of how these lessons had shaped me.

The rest of our post-wedding road trip affirmed that: an eye-opening Civil War Museum in St. Louis and rafting on the Occee River near Chattanooga. Talking to locals over crayfish in New Orleans, nearly 10 years post-Katrina, about why they’d come to NOLA, or why they stayed. Witnessing how the sharing culture is helping millennials like me make ends meet and chase their goals down.

Memphis shook me out of my Spain haze and helped me look at my country for what it is, for better or for worse. Ticking through seven states in one summer road trip passed in a blur of county lines, of truck stop meals, of miles on the odometer. But Memphis was a real, gritty American city that reminded me where I came from, having grown up in “tough” cities like Flint and Rockford.

I am an American, firstly. Someone who knows what it means to work hard and what it means to be free to choose. Someone who trusts in the inherent aims of her country, but isn’t afraid to voice opposition (or cast a vote). Someone who is fiercely loyal to her first land but understands its context in a wider scope.  

And those values haven’t in any way been muted by my years in Spain. My American Dream is far different now than it was when I finished high school or college, but it’s rooted in the way I grew up.

Memphis 

Have you ever been to Memphis? What were your impressions?

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