(Note: Some of the events in this post have been dramatized slightly in order to highlight how little I know of Boston, and to further ridicule Rob. Enjoy.) There is a time in every travel blogger’s life when she is tested. She will find herself with a group of friends in a town that…
– I married a boy from New Jersey. There is no state more unfairly maligned. Tell folks you are from anywhere else, no matter how abused and run-down, and the response will be better than if you say you are from Jersey. Detroit will get you sympathetic comments about the state of America’s heartland, and praises…
I was looking through my photos of Rome from my trip last spring, and I realized something: it is impossible to look cool while tossing coins into the Trevi Fountain. Behold:
(Yesterday I told the tale of how I visited the Statue of Liberty. This post continues where that one left off, as I made my way from Liberty Island to Ellis.) I’d be remiss if I told you about my visit to Ellis and Liberty Islands and neglected to note how I almost royally messed…
(Note: Due to length, I’ve split up my coverage of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island into two posts. Part 1 covers the Statue of Liberty, and Part 2 will be published tomorrow, and will cover Ellis Island. Enjoy.) ————— – I am not one to feel emotionally moved very often. This is probably…
I have something very important to tell you with regards to travel. It has absolutely nothing to do with what you should pack or where you should go. I have no insightful revelations about which airline seat to pick in order to avoid sitting next to a guy who obviously has TB. I always…
My cousin’s village in Italy is a relic of the sort you rarely see outside of Indiana Jones movies or PBS-programs narrated by David McCullough. It winds up a hill, dotted with ancient stone houses, now conveniently equipped with electricity and spotty hot water. The local children, carrying heavy monikers of saints or artists, call to one…
Ugh. I might have overdone it on cupcakes when I was last in New York. I know: those words sound blasphemous, don’t they? Even as I try to type them, my fingers burn a little. If I attempt to utter the phrase, “I’ve had too many cupcakes” out loud, it sears my throat. Clearly, my…
– The strangest thing happened to me that last time I was in London: I went to a museum dedicated to Britain’s role in WWII. And I liked it. I know – you’re thinking that you can’t have read that correctly. “She must have meant cupcakes,” you think. “Or possibly Jeff Goldblum. She just got…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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