Where in the World

New York City: Come Away

2009-05-05T02:04:21Z

In a short stint in New York City, I packed in a bunch of movies at the Tribeca Film Festival, several trips to Pinkberry, a Magnolia cupcake, and a Saturday evening performance of South Pacific starring Paulo Szot and Laura Osnes -- all of which I highly recommend.

Having done both, I'd say living in NYC is much more enjoyable than visiting it. In either case, there's nothing like a great Broadway show, and South Pacific didn't disappoint. The sets and lighting truly transported me to a slow sunset on an island much prettier than Manhattan. The performances were stellar and the vaguely familiar songs quite catchy. I bought the soundtrack the next day and have been playing it on repeat ever since. Yes, I am a sucker for the theatre. I'd like to go back every night. Do you think there are people who spend $300,000/year going to Broadway shows? If so, how might I become one of them?

But the thing I noticed about New York was how stressed and hurried strangers seemed. I'm not sure if I just never noticed it before. In fact, I'm not sure I wasn't like that myself before. I actually saw a woman argue over who was first for a bathroom stall when there wasn't even a line. This is a person who is spending too much time crowded in subways, waiting in lines and making sure no one's getting the better of her. Oh and trust me, if you're not paying attention, they will get the better of you. I realized this when my cab driver decided to drive from Lincoln Center to the Village by way of Times Square on Saturday night, making a 15-minute ride take 45 (and a $8 cab ride cost $16). And yet we still tipped him. I might as well be a hick. But this is how you become a "New Yorker": spend your day getting cut off, shoved and swindled and pretty soon you're getting in a cab haughtily instructing the driver which route to take.

Don't get me wrong, New York is a truly wonderful place -- one of the best cities in the world. For years, I had one of those "I Love New York" bumper stickers on my car. But I think now I'd need one that says, "I Have Mixed Feelings about New York."

Surfing Queens and Canoes

2009-02-26T15:44:05Z

When I close my eyes I see waves. I've been surfing nearly every day that we've been in Waikiki -- today was my last, and seventh surf lesson. The surf instructors at Beach Boys tease me because most people take one lesson and then proceed out into the waves unattended to figure it out by themselves. But after having tried that in Newport, RI last summer, I saw my week in Hawaii as a custom surf camp so I went out each time with an instructor. I find that I learn something new each time (how to steer, how to handle the second push of a wave), and it's nice after wiping out and swallowing a heap of seawater that there's someone there who notices and shouts "You ok?"

The first two lessons that I took were group lessons for $40/hour. Those seem to be set up mostly for total beginners. The lessons start on the beach to practice paddling and standing on the board. At Beach Boys, most instructors taught newbies to get on their knees then one foot, then both feet. As expert as such company made me feel, I decided a private lesson (at $75/hour) might help me learn a bit quicker. So after that I chose to go for the pricier private lesson (although they did cut me a deal after I kept coming back). I've gone out with several different instructors, all men -- Zack, Junior, and Tony. If there are any women instructors, I haven't seen them. I've taken the most (four) lessons with Tony, a sturdy tanned Italian guy born and raised on the island who can move quite nimbly around even on the 11 foot board he takes out with him. As for me, I've graduated down to a 10 foot board and have stuck with that for the duration. In fact, several of my instructors have informed me that the board I purchased in Newport, RI, an 8 foot 2 inch epoxy board is too small for me to learn on. They all think I should be with a 9 foot 6 inch or a 10 foot board.

Tony finds it funny, but I'm not joking when I tell him that I'm actually scared to go out each time, and yet I am totally compelled to as if I were addicted. What can I say about surfing? I don't think it's a sport most people learn in their mid-thirties, and I can see why. Fear holds us back. As I've surfed around, I've seen quite a wide age range of talented surfers from about age 7 to 77. I haven't seen as many older women in the water as older men, but they're out there, and they're damn good.

In Waikiki, the surfing can get quite crowded -- to the point that it's a bit hazardous. As I finished my last lesson, the Beach Boys instructors were taking out a group of 25 newbies in already crowded waters to learn to surf. Let's just say, I was glad I was done for the day. Apparently there are not many surf rules in Waikiki, although supposedly you should get out of the way of oncoming surfers riding a wave. Although this sounds simple, it can be a challenge when you have people coming at you from all sides. It's also hard to judge without knowing the locals who can steer around you and who cannot.

One day when it was particularly crowded, I asked Tony if we could head out slightly to the left of the mob scene in the water where I saw some nice waves breaking. He said that was where the locals surfed and it was a slightly bigger and more challenging ride, but we could give it a try. I hadn't realized it until then that each of the breaks had a name. Where most people surf (and have surf lessons) in Waikiki is called Canoes, according to Tony named after the canoes that take out passengers to paddle in and ride the waves. To the left of there is Queens, an area more highly rated and more popular with the locals. Later that day, Geoff discovered this site that lists all the breaks -- check out the difference between Oahu (http://www.wannasurf.com/spot/North_America/USA/Hawaii/Oahu/index.html) and Southern New England (http://www.wannasurf.com/spot/North_America/USA/North_East/Southern_New_England/index.html) -- a bit depressing but I guess it could be worse.

The waves in Queens were bigger, and leaned sideways a bit so the ride was more across than straight ahead. The larger waves give you more of the downhill ride, in addition to just the whitewater push ahead. Throughout my week of surfing I learned how to steer (with the weight of your back leg), how to stop (get down on the board and put your hands in the water, or more quickly shift your weight to the back of the board), how to fall (belly flop or back flop since the water is shallow and the bottom rocky), how to keep ahead of the wave (step forward on the board), in addition to things like finding the right wave and timing your paddling into it. But maybe most importantly, my fear seemed to wane a little bit each time.

If you haven't tried surfing, I highly recommend it. When you catch a wave and ride it into the shore, it's pure elation. It makes me think of the Woody Allen line, "It's the most fun I've ever had without laughing."

Waikiki: My Kind of Winter

2009-02-24T01:57:37Z

When I had first pictured Hawaii in my mind, I had imagined something along the lines of Blue Lagoon. Although Waikiki does give you the feeling that it's been crafted by Hollywood or Disney with its smooth stone sidewalks and carefully spaced palm trees - it doesn't quite match my mind's pre-conception. I had pictured the beach as a serene, romantic place, when in fact it's no less crowded than New York's Jones Beach on a hot summer day. I suppose the contents of 60,000 hotel rooms spilled out onto the beach mid-day would be anything but peaceful. But despite the throngs of honeymooners and Japanese tourists, Waikiki has its redeeming qualities. It's rare to discover a beach with fine soft sand and clear blue-green water where you can take a baby out swimming safely in relatively calm waters as well as take surfing lessons a few feet away. And I love the fact that they let everyone bring floats and boogie boards into the water (boats even wash up on shore).

We've spent most of the past few days at Waikiki Beach, although we did decide to rent a car yesterday to explore the rest of the island. With surging mountains, roaring surf and too many beaches to count, Oahu offers quite a scenic drive. Yet after being turned away from one beach after another (too rough surf at one, a Portuguese man-of-war warning at another), I think we'll stick to Waikiki for the final four days of our trip. That said, I did enjoy watching the surfers at the Bonzai Pipeline even though the waves only hit 5 feet or so today (versus the winter peak of 20 feet) and got in a quick swim in giant waves at Waimea Bay.

Our other excursion out of Waikiki was Saturday when we woke ourselves up early at 9 am (jet lag has allowed us to eat late and sleep in) for the weekly Farmers' Market at the Kapiolani Community College on Diamond Head Road. We were glad not to have missed it since we found not only tasty breakfast (hot beignets, homemade spicy ginger ales and the most buttery cranberry scones), but also some local fruit to take back to our room - mangosteens, mangos, rambutans, apple bananas (which taste like pre-ripened bananas).

For the most part, food in Oahu has been good, although you definitely have to seek out reviews from a reliable source. The guidebook we brought Oahu Revealed offers wonderfully detailed descriptions of beaches, attractions and hotels, but I've found it doesn't quite match our sensibility with food. It's hard to take any book seriously that gives an 'ono' (meaning 'delicious') rating to McDonald's, and I've found some of their recommendations off the mark. For example, Maui Tacos proved a definite disappointment with bland burritos (maybe it's just too far from Mexico here to get that right). And some of their exclusions are unfortunate, like the great sandwiches at Ruffage Foods (I had tuna avocado and Geoff had a veggie burger avocado).

The restaurants are often geared toward tourists, which often make them a disappointment. And Waikiki obviously is a serious tourist destination. Any town with a Tiffany's as large as the one here means business. And surf shops - well, take your pick. There are actually two Billabong stores across the street from each other. And there appears to be a Haagen-Daz every few blocks in case you're feeling a tad faint (which I usually am). But by far, the most ubiquitous chain here is a regional shop called ABC Stores which carries everything you might need in a pinch - suntan lotion, allergy medication, milk, and sarongs - as well as plenty of souvenirs like pins, cups, t-shirts, flower barrettes, and kona coffee. The abundance of these stores seems almost absurd - on a short walk, we counted eight of them - but they certainly do offer comfort. Everything you need is there should you need it. And I suppose that is part of why Waikiki has become what it is today.

There are many families here on vacation, and I can see why. Although it feels so much like a remote tropical destination, Hawaii is just another state in the U.S. This provides comfort on many levels - there's no problem getting money, speaking the language, driving a car, etc. In addition, the beach seems to please kids universally. Mirabelle sings "going to the beach" every morning and adores playing in the sand, swimming in the ocean, and wearing as few clothes as possible. The poor thing - she certainly doesn't realize that in a few days, we'll be back to bundling her in umpteen layers before leaving the house, only to proceed as quickly as possible from one indoor location to another.

Leaving Taipei

2009-02-21T10:22:19Z

It was our last morning in Taipei. We were a bit sad to go and not just because we had a 8 hour 20 minute China Airlines flight ahead of us. Taipei surprised us as with its varied culture, tasty cuisine and relatively baby-friendly city. Of course, we were extremely fortunate to have Allan and Susan as our hosts who helped navigate our outings, choose the restaurants, and speak the language for us. The few times we went out by ourselves, we managed with a lot of pointing (most menus have pictures) and gesturing. I realized that cab drivers were more likely to understand the word "okay" than "yes" which came in handy and not surprisingly, Geoff started recognizing certain Chinese characters during our trip. We were certainly glad we came to Taipei, knowing that as much as we packed into our week trip, there was still much to be explored. We never had a chance to take some day trip to the north coast like Yeliu which looked mystical with its sandstone formations, and we never made it to the National Palace Museum - not too surprising since it wasn't until we moved to Paris that we finally went to the Louvre.

For our last half day in Taipei, we (of course) chose to get breakfast at Yungho Soybean Milk & Porridge King. Allan and Susan met us there, and Susan (who loves peanuts) introduced us to two new dishes there - peanut soup and a sticky rice wrapped around mashed peanuts.

Before we headed to the airport, we decided to take a quick trip back to Wistaria Teahouse to buy a tea set, complete with the pot, cups, bowls and wooden spoon. We got back just in time to get our bags into our car service back to the airport.

The flight which left at around 3 pm essentially was an overnight flight since it arrived in Hawaii 6 am local time (although in Taipei that's midnight). Since we were crossing back over the dateline, it would be Thursday morning again when we arrived in Honolulu. The flight was fairly uneventful, except for one bit of rough turbulence about 30 minutes prior to landing that had me regretting deeply the decision to fly China Airlines. But it ended well, and the passenger behind us commented on our way leaving the plane how "easy" Mirabelle is. It has been remarkable, and I say this with three days of travel behind us and one day of travel left. I'm not sure if it's the preparations, the presents, the pacifier, or just the fact that Mirabelle really likes Lady and The Tramp. But overall, my fears have not at all been realized. We have all slept well, ate well and traveled well. And I think when we're back home, we'll be planning our next adventure.

Spicy Sichuan and Traditional Tea in Taipei

2009-02-21T09:52:33Z

On our last full day, we decided to start early with an official children's activity for Mirabelle. We had researched places to take kids in Taipei. But when we sought information online, we found several of them to be closed - including the Children's Museum of Taipei and the Children's Museum of Transportation. Susan said one of her friends with kids recommended Baby Boss, but the minimum age was three. With Mirabelle not even quite two yet, we thought that might be a stretch. We decided on the Children's Recreation Center which was supposed to be great for younger kids and appeared to still be up and running.

In fact, the Children's Recreation Center turned out to be much like an old-fashioned amusement park. It had a Ferris wheel, bumper cars, carousel, boat ride, train, and other rides, in addition to several playgrounds with swings, slides and a variety of climbing apparatuses. We lucked out since it was a warm, sunny morning during the week which meant we pretty much had a nice day at the park to ourselves along with a few other families. Unlike most American amusement parks, there were no size or age minimums. Instead, younger children were expected to be accompanied by an adult. Even on the carousel, Mirabelle got strapped in with a rope, and I held her hand while riding a neighboring horse. Geoff had read that the park was somewhat worn, and it was old, but not at all rundown. In fact, it appeared well maintained, and its age only added to its charm.

After tiring Mirabelle out (and of course eating ice cream), we got in a cab to go meet our friends Allan and Susan for lunch. Susan, who runs a graphic design business in Taipei, wanted us to meet her two employees who she calls "her girls." So we all met for lunch at Kiki Restaurant, Sichuan cuisine. We ate soft spicy tofu, hot string beans, and chopped meat with something like scallions. Susan showed us how to eat it properly, bringing the bowl close to your mouth so the chopsticks don't have far to carry the food.

Although Kiki Restaurant was a sleek modern place, they still had an eastern style toilet, which if you've never seen one isn't a toilet at all, but just a hole in the ground. It looks more like a urinal. I have yet to figure out how to use these properly, and find I have to pee extra slowly so I don't end up peeing all over my leg, the floor and the wall (you only make that mistake once). Overall, I've come across more western style toilets than eastern in Taipei. And surprisingly, I've had luck finding baby changing stations in many bathrooms which make it way more baby-friendly than Paris. But those eastern toilets still catch me off-guard.

After lunch, we visited Susan's office, a space which she bought and renovated. She had partitioned some of the space with glass walls so light could pour through while still offering privacy. Since it actually was a converted apartment, it felt homey with a kitchen and private bathroom. Susan had her own studio there which was under construction, and Allan had his own office there as well. The girls shared a third room. They had a handful of cats, Toro and Rich - although one of them named Idea had fallen out a window recently, which was not only sad, but an unfortunate metaphor. We drank some pearl milk tea, which was tasty but I just can't get used to rice balls in my drink. As my allergies to the cats started to act up, we decided to head out with Allan alone since everyone else had work to do.

First we went to RT Mart, which was an unassuming entrance that opened into an urban Wal-Mart of sorts. We bought a few things we needed for our plane ride back to Hawaii the following day and then got a cab to Wistaria Teahouse. A historic teahouse which once kept the company of artists and rebels, Wistaria is divided into two sections - a modern café with tables and chairs overlooking a coy pond and a back room with low tables and pillows on tatami mats for drinking tea in the traditional Japanese style. We chose the traditional room, and they brought us a tea menu as well as a display of neatly saran-wrapped desserts which Mirabelle proceeded to poke her fingers through. After two were sacrificed, we figured we'd better order so we chose three pots of tea and chose the desserts that had been mauled, although it turned out those were just samples so they brought us fresh ones. It wasn't long until we decided to let Mirabelle watch a movie on her PSP - it just was not a very kid-friendly place with the delicate cups, the boiling water, and the writhing flame.

Our Taiwanese host came out with the teas and a small pot, four cups, four bowls and a bunch of other tea paraphernalia. She showed us the steps for making the tea - washing the pot out with some boiling water (from Taipei's mountains), heating the cups and bowls with hot water, putting the tea leaves into the pot followed by hot water and followed nearly immediately by pouring the tea into the small cups. There was even a way to drink the tea - take your small cup and deeply inhale the aromas, then pour the tea into your small bowl, smell the tea again, and then drink. After showing us all the steps once, our host left us to do it ourselves which made for some mishaps - "No you drink out of the bowl, not the cup!" "Wait did you air out the pot?" Overall, we decided that we lacked the elegance to do this properly, although we did all agree that her being a young Taiwanese woman in a sleek tea uniform might have given her the edge in that regard. Breathing and drinking the tea simultaneously boosted our energy and relaxed our spirits, and we enjoyed a nice leisurely conversation. We ate wonderful snacks to accompany our tea - pineapple cake (buttery cake filled with mashed pineapple), mashed peanut candies (which melted in your mouth like peanut butter cookie dough) and whole roasted peanuts (so much for Mirabelle not eating whole nuts until she was four).

After about an hour or so, Susan called us to tell us she'd pick us up and take us to karaoke. Since Mirabelle hadn't eaten dinner, we stopped and got her an egg sandwich at Yungho Soybean Milk & Porridge King (yes, it's really that good). Karaoke in Taipei is nothing like America's staggering drunkards howling off-tune in sleazy bars. In Asia, karaoke is big business - there are posh private rooms with drink and food service (you have a phone to call for more). Our room that night at the Party Zone even had its own private bathroom attached. The building itself impresses with a sleek marble entrance and waiting room which leads up to floors and floors of private karaoke rooms. After singing our hearts out for an hour, Mirabelle passed out as we continued. I guessed if she could sleep through the night market, she could sleep through karaoke. And, it turned out, I was right.

From Danshui to Shilin Night Market

2009-02-18T00:06:56Z

We spent the day in Danshui, a small waterfront town about 20km northwest of Taipei. The boardwalk felt much like anywhere -- crowded shops selling kitsch, soft serve ice cream stands, and amusement park games for prizes (Mirabelle won a blow-up sword). As usual, Mirabelle was a big hit with the Taiwanese women -- one young girl even asked if she could take our picture. It's those kinds of experiences that make you realize how much of an anomaly you are. And, in fact, we certainly are. I have seen a handful of westerners around, and I've seen plenty of children out and about. But I have yet to come across any Caucasian kids -- even at the zoo, where I was sure they'd be hiding.

The lunch place that Susan had picked for us turned out to be closed, so we went instead to The Waterfront, Mediterranean cuisine overlooking the water. It didn't feel very Taiwanese, but the food was quite good -- pesto pizzas and grilled chicken. I had some fruit tea -- which was tea mixed with pineapple (like tasty hot juice). Geoff decided to eat light to save room for the ensuing street food (fishball soup, pig's blood covered in nuts on a stick, etc.). I decided to pass on most of the street food, but I found a little shop selling European breads and I bought a delicious soft pretzel.

The one consistency I've found is in Taiwan's contradictions. I've never before seen a sparkling posh store displaying savon next to a dilapidated stall selling colorful plastic toys. In general, there seem to be two distinct sides to Taipei: the sleek marble department stores versus the gritty food stalls and shops.

From Danshui, we took a boat to Fisherman's Wharf where we sat and had some tea and coffee. Then we walked across the suspension foot bridge and happily found a taxi to take us back to Susan's car.

Our next step was the Shilin Night Market. Night markets, popular also in other parts of Asia, are huge bazaars with food stalls, clothing vendors, masseuses, fortune tellers, etc. Of course, we tried a variety of regional specialties -- peanut ice cream, stinky tofu (to me it tasted like it smelled: like garbage), fried flattened chicken (this was the longest line and my favorite). Geoff, of course, opted to taste more than I -- he also had sausage in a rice bun, oyster omelet, fried fish chips. With the clamor, lights and crowds, it impressed me that Mirabelle (thankfully) slept through the entire evening. Although this would leave us with our continuing dilemma of what to do after she woke in the middle of the night after a full night's sleep. Apparently, she insists on remaining on Hawaii time. After the food-for-all, Geoff and Allan sat for coffee at an upstairs cafe (Mirabelle may have broken the record for being carried up and down the most stairs in a stroller), while Susan and I went shopping for clothes.

Susan cracked me up as a shopping companion -- her refrain would be "only 200 dollar!" which is pretty cheap since the Taiwan to U.S. dollar is about 35 to 1. At times I found the calculations a bit too obtuse -- 90% off $2850, then converted to U.S. dollars is...? Well, it's cheap, anyway. I have to admit, I'm not much for food markets but the shopping market was pretty fun. I think my favorite was a t-shirt that says, "Cheerful Step" with an aside of "happy rhythmical everyday." I have no idea what it means, but you just have to love automated translations.

Making Up for Jetlag

2009-02-17T02:34:42Z

After thinking we had adjusted so easily to the upside down Taipei time zone, we found ourselves Sunday afternoon exhausted. We decided to come back to our hotel room at around 2:30 pm for a one or two hour nap. So imagine my surprise when I rolled over, looked at the clock and saw it was 6:30 pm. Mirabelle was still sound asleep, and I didn't blame her. After a half-hearted discussion to get motivated, we decided to call it a night. Not surprisingly, we were all up for the day the next morning at 2 am -- not good, considering nothing in Taipei really opens until 9 at the earliest.

The hot plate and pot that our friends Allan and Susan lent us came in handy as we proceeded to heat up Mirabelle some Elmo soup at 3 am. Yes, apparently we had now officially broken every 'sleeping' rule there was: Mirabelle now was waking up in the middle of the night to snuggle with us in bed, watch television, and now, eat entire meals. Why do I have the sinking feeling that the post-vacation weeks may be a harder adjustment for us all than the vacation itself?

Feeling like we had missed a whole day, we decided to make up for it the following day. So we packed it in -- a walk through the city stopping for breakfast of egg sandwiches and hot soymilk at Yungho Soybean Milk & Porridge King (so good, we went for seconds), then the Taipei Zoo (liveliest monkeys I've ever seen), followed by the Breeze Center (high-end shopping and a coffee break) where we met Allan and Susan who took us to see their apartment and watch a short animated Chinese film The Three Monks, and happily completed with a fantastic dim sum dinner at Din Tai Fung.

The food in Taipei is wonderful. We've mostly had dim sum, which happens to be my favorite type of Chinese food. Of course, you can get dim sum in the U.S., but it's just not as good. One thing that is noticeably different are the dumplings -- they are not thick and doughy, but smooth and light. At Din Tai Fung, where we ate last night, you can observe them making their own dumpling dough (see the photo). The results melt in your mouth.

Tapei 101

2009-02-14T20:04:13Z

Upon first glance, Taipei feels a bit like Bangkok. There are a lot of old, dirty buildings with some crazy wiring, and the throng of motor scooters creates a haze of pollution you can practically taste.

Yet, Taipei shines with innovation. Its engineering and manufacturing in technology (iPhones are made here) have contributed to the country's wealth and enabled it to emerge as a major business destination. As a result, you'll find Starbucks on nearly every corner, as well as major European brands -- Moschino, Gucci, Cartier, etc.

This affluence seems epitomized by Taipei 101, the tallest skyscraper (soon to be outdone by Dubai) at a quarter of a mile high. At the foot of the building lies an enormous mall connected via foot bridges to a maze of additional department stores. The quantity of shops feels absurd -- could there really be enough Taiwanese (or tourists) to buy this many $200 sweaters?

We did make our way to the top of Taipei 101, despite my reluctance. The elevator ride itself was an engineering marvel -- quiet, smooth and fast. If it wasn't for my ears popping (and the subsequent dizzying view), I would have sworn we had only gone up about 15 floors. Mirabelle, of course, was more impressed by a clever multimedia display (when you walked across the floor, clouds disappeared and a view of Taipei emerged below your feet).

We spent most of the day exploring the area around Tapei 101 and made our way to Page One, a bookstore with a large English language section, and an international food market (Jason's). As it turns out, I didn't really need to pack all the food I did (instant oatmeal, mac and cheese, granola bars). I wasn't exactly surprised to see Corn Flakes, but impressed to find brands like Kashi, Newman's Own and Eden Organics. Inside that market, it felt just like any European city -- except, of course, that everything was in Chinese.

Around the World

2009-02-14T19:37:25Z

We've made it to Taipei. Perhaps it's unwise to boast when we still have to make it back, but the plane rides weren't as bad as I thought they'd be. Of course, in our three plane rides, we got pretty lucky - in the first ,we had three bulkhead seats for the three of us (even though Mirabelle at just under two was still a lap child); in the second, we flew business class; and in the third, we actually had four seats to ourselves.

I didn't think it possible to keep a toddler in an airplane seat for 12 hours straight, but somehow we pulled it off. I had read that with toddlers, it's best not to let them know that getting out of the seat was an option (like a car), but I didn't think Mirabelle would go for that. But it did work, and instead of letting her roam in the aisles, we let her jump around in her seat or on the floor for intervals. We had videos for her, but she actually didn't log as many hours watching as I would have thought. Instead, it was a little bit of everything - watching TV, napping, eating, opening her 'presents,' coloring, jumping on the seat, playing games on the iPhone, and, of course, sucking on her pacifier and pulling my hair. After about 8 hours on the nonstop flight from Honolulu to Taipei, Mirabelle asked to 'go outside,' but luckily took it pretty well when we broke it to her that there were still four hours to go.

All in all, it went well, and I was glad we had opted for the nonstop flight on China Airlines (despite their poor reputation) instead of indirect flights on Japan Air. When we arrived at the Taipei airport, Mirabelle was greeted enthusiastically by a team of Taiwanese women in a duty free shop - a fine beginning to the trip.

Surfing in Wakiki

2009-02-13T09:59:13Z

Until now, I've only been surfing in Cape Cod, Massachusetts and Newport, RI. After my first time in Hawaii, I can easily say that surfing in Wakiki is a lot more fun. The water isn't frigid; there's no seaweed; and it's a long ride in.

All the travel books say that anyone can catch their first wave in the waters of Wakiki, which is probably true. Of course, there are a few unwritten stipulations -- you'll need an instructor who finds and pushes you into the right waves and a 12-foot foam board that has so much inertia that it's practically impossible to tip the thing over.

This past summer, I went surfing several times a week and felt by the end of the season I had actually gotten worse. But in Newport, I have my own board (an 8 foot 2 inch epoxy board) which is probably lighter and swifter than I'm qualified to use quite yet. It also actually requires balance, something that is just not an issue with those giant foam boards. Not to mention, I injured my knee jumping off in shallow water which still hasn't totally healed, and I got knocked about a few times in 5-foot waves that I just wasn't ready for.

Since I had lost my confidence a bit, I decided to start in Wakiki with a lesson and a large foam board. It was a group lesson with three of us -- me, a woman from North Carolina who had never surfed, and a guy who said he had done it once 20 years ago. All of us caught some nice rides and have the pictures to prove it. In fact, the rides are so long that sometimes I jumped off early just so I didn't have to paddle back so far to try again. It also makes for an awkward surfing etiquette problem. In Newport, everyone spreads out side to side across a wave, but in Wakik, you start so far back that sometimes you end up being right in line with someone else. Since I don't really know how to steer, I would just jump off if I saw I was barreling toward someone. Our instructor was a typical surfer, young, tan and laid back. I found it odd at first that he took his board out with us. I wasn't sure why until I saw him catching a few waves of his own. You've just gotta love that surfer attitude -- catch 'em when you can.

After our stint in Taipei, we'll return to Hawaii for another week. I'm hoping to take a lesson every day where I can work my way down from a massive foam to a leaner, shorter epoxy board.

We're Outta Here

2009-02-09T21:36:51Z

Is there really any appropriate preparation that one can do to spend 43 hours on an airplane with a toddler? We've packed movies, games, snacks, emergency chocolate, pacifiers (scoff if you will, but the passengers of Flight C1001 will thank me), even toys wrapped as presents to be doled out every few hours. We shall see. Perhaps we will have gone through all our resources in the first few hours leaving Mirabelle ripping down the aisles with chocolate streaming down her cheeks. There's only one way to find out.

Will it be worth it? A week on the beach in Hawaii will definitely be a treat (see the photo of huge snow heaps currently in Boston), but I'm not quite sure what to expect with Taipei. Will it be as vibrant as Tokyo, as polluted as Bangkok or as organized as Singapore? Will it be at all 'kid-friendly'? I've talked to a lot of friends with kids and many of them do little traveling and when they do, it's short trips within the U.S. I haven't yet come across any friends who have said, "Taipei, oh yeah, we went there with the kids." So we are either incredibly adventurous or incredibly stupid -- and most likely, a bit of both.

But wanderlust cannot be ignored.

Traveling Tot, The Backstory

2009-02-03T03:22:19Z

"You won't be able to do that once you have a kid," people often warned me in my pre-parent state, usually in reference to moving or traveling. My husband Geoff and I had visited a dozen countries - Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Tunisia, to name a few, in addition to the typical European holidays in France, England, Spain and Switzerland. Not to mention, we developed a habit of picking up all our belongings and moving to a new place - sometimes for a few months, other times for a few years. We lived in Boston, New York and Paris in a span of literally three years at one point.

There's definitely the assumption that if marriage didn't get you to "settle down" then surely having children will. Perhaps that's why when our daughter Mirabelle was two months old, we packed up all our stuff and moved to London for a summer. In part we wanted to prove to all the naysayers that we could travel with child, but mostly we wanted to prove it to ourselves. And perhaps that's why as our daughter Mirabelle approaches her second birthday, she will have lived in seven apartments in three cities across two countries. And despite the fact that I am unequivocally certain that we will move again since our current apartment is both too loud and too small, I have decided I'd like to stop moving so much. I've discovered it might be nice to have a place that we could keep our furniture (other than our storage space) and have as our consistent home base. As for traveling, I hope nothing will stop me from more of that.

In the year or so since London, we've taken numerous trips -- Ohio, New Hampshire, Vermont, and New York -- but none abroad. We also spent what I may always refer to as 'the best summer ever' last summer in Newport, Rhode Island. Mostly relaxing, rarely frightening, and always energizing, our trips have been a treat. But now we're ready for just a bit more adventure.

Feeling brave, we recently decided to book our next major international trip to Taiwan. A good friend of ours married a woman from Taiwan and moved there about a year ago. It's hard to resist visiting a foreign place when you have friends who can speak the language and show you around. In exploring our travel options, we knew we couldn't handle flying straight there for several reason - there is no Boston to Taipei flight which meant we had to transfer regardless; the time difference is 13 hours which is a bit hard to take; and the flight time (including a transfer to New York) would take nearly 20 hours. So we looked at the globe to find a halfway point, and settled on Hawaii.

So, now here we are, a bit more than a week before our trip - researching, planning, and organizing.

London Town

2007-07-28T01:43:19Z

Our daughter Mirabelle was born in March 2007 and two and a half months later, we packed up as a threesome to spend a summer in London. We had visited the city once before as a couple for a few days in May 2001, but were looking forward to getting to know it better.

I didn't realize it until much later, but London is an extremely baby-friendly city. There are clean baby changing stations in nearly every McDonalds and Starbucks (which are ubiquitous) and fortunately you don't need to purchase something to use them. This was a stark contrast to Paris. A few weeks into our London summer, we took weekend trip. After finding numerous Starbucks and McDonalds with no baby changing stations, I started asking people on the street where I could "changer le bébé?" but no one had any suggestions. Had this never come up before? We finally found a Paris museum which had a wooden shelf in the bathroom that served the purpose. After that, we changed her outdoors in her stroller.

I also didn't realize until later that the pre-crawling stage is a great time to travel with a baby. Our daughter was a dream on the flights -- she mostly slept. One older gentlemen even commented on how 'well behaved' she was, which I found amusing. Since she couldn't get around on her own, it meant that we didn't have to do any real baby-proofing in our various London apartments. And she didn't need much in the way of toys and other accoutrements -- we packed two large suitcases for the three of us for the entire summer along with her co-sleeper pack-n-play.

My husband Geoff had found us an apartment in advance, figuring it would be too difficult to start hunting when we arrived. He had settled on the Chelsea area since we knew some friends who lived there, but the closest he was able to find on Gumtree was a newly renovated apartment in Battersea. Even though Mirabelle still slept in our bedroom at that point, we needed a two bedroom since Geoff's cousin Ashley would spend the summer with us to help with Mirabelle.

Although the apartment turned out to be lovely (albeit small), I decided I would hunt for another that was a bit more central, even though it meant moving again. Battersea, although up-and-coming, is on the southern end of the map, and Chelsea was about a 15 minute walk and central London nearly an hour on the bus. [Another great thing about London: you can wheel a stroller right onto a bus or into a taxi]. Of course, apartment searches are always exhausting but they are a bit more harrowing with a 2 month baby. After seeing a series of fairly awful places, I chose a place in Marylebone becaue it had an elevator and a truly great location -- a quick walk to Regents Park, a far walk to Hyde Park (I took a Buggyfit class at both), and a 15-minute walk to any central London location.

I'd say my favorite things about London were the international food (Lebanese, Indian, Chinese), the people (the women I met with kids were extremely friendly even to a temporary expatriate like myself), and the parks. The parks are like nowhere else I've ever been -- they are enormous with cafés, theatres, sculpture exhibits, walking paths, rose gardens and more.

My biggest complaints about London were the prices and the weather. We happened to go when it was about two American dollars to a British pound. Eventually, I had to start pretending the prices were dollars or I would have never eaten fruit or ice cream or anything for that matter. The only deals to be consumed in London were beer and baby formula. Ironically, I was worried how we would get Mirabelle to adjust from Similac to U.K. baby formulas. But after discovering Cow & Gate, I wasn't sure how I was going to put her back on Similac. The 'baby milk' is so inexpensive, we were able to import Cow & Gate from BritSuperStore and even with overseas shipping, it still wasn't as expensive as U.S. formulas.

As for the weather, it was just awful People joke that London is a rainy city, but to me it is no joke. After several weeks of daily rain, my sinuses had completely stopped functioning properly. I became an addict of Alka Seltzer Plus. I've never seen a place where it change from monsoon to sunshine and back again in a matter of minutes. Let's put it this way: none of my Buggyfit classes were ever canceled due to rain (nor was our Shakespeare in the park) because if they were, they literally wouldn't have any. In our trip to Stonehenge, we all bought ponchos (it rained obviously) and at one point I figured I should just put the poncho on and just take it off before we got on the plane back to the U.S. The weather was so miserable, that I felt I had completely missed summer. I was glad we had planned to spend August in Connecticut where I would finally dry out. To be fair, it was supposedly London's wettest summer on record. But you can be sure I won't be going back another summer to test out if that record can be beat.

As for Mirabelle, she earned her nickname that summer: "baby ambassador." It turned out she was a fairly adaptable baby -- adjusting from time zones and apartments and climates with more ease than us. And she'd sleep just about anywhere, including the floor of a Lebanese restaurant -- as long as it was in her car seat, which seemed appropriate since she was after all a girl on the go.

Shoes with Mustard and other French Phrases Accidentally Uttered

2006-03-27T03:16:16Z

Ever since our first trip to Paris when Geoff ordered some shoes with mustard (chaussures avec moutard instead of saucisson avec moutard) from a street vendor, I knew that learning French was more than just being armed with the words. Unfortunately, you also need to pronounce them correctly.

One might think that a year of grammar school French, four years of high school French, three adult education classes in the U.S. and four months of classes in Paris would render me fluent in French. If my admission of all this education for dubious results is met with astonishment, then I quickly blame the American school system which teaches children languages much too late. This usually gets me points by not only being self-deprecating, but also by criticizing social structure which is one of the French's favorite pastimes.

One thing I have learned in all my classes is that proper pronunciation in French depends largely on the vowel sounds. For example, it's been a long-running joke in almost every French class I've taken that when students mean to be saying something about someone's beautiful long hair cheveux they actually wind up talking about her beautiful long horse chevaux.

Just recently, I had one of the English-speaking salesmen in Dehillerhin finally explain to me how to say their store name properly - de-eel-ur-ahn. Turns out, I've been pronouncing that wrong for eight years. And I know for a fact that Geoff and I have several times in cafés actually ordered 12 espressos douze espressos instead of 2 deux espressos. Fortunately, they didn't take us literally.

To practice pronunciation, Geoff often likes to read something in French and see if I can understand. Our weekend in Cognac, one of the pamphlets described the cognac being aged in fût de chêne which sounded to me like the words for crazy dog fou chien. In fact, it was an oak barrel.

The benefit of knowing French pronunciation is that sometimes that's all you need to know the word. Many people joke that if you don't know the French word, your best bet is to simply say the English word with the French pronunciation. Actually, you'd be amazed at how far this can get you. First of all, many French and English words are the same, but pronounced so differently to be practically unrecognizable. The "a" in communication resembles the "a" in hat and the "tion" changes to the softer French "sion". Independence becomes more of a nasal word that you would hear as ahndaypahndahnce but is actually spelled indépendance. Marketing, of course being an American invention, stays true to the form and only slight adapts to mahketing.

But in reality sometimes even pronunciation doesn't get you comprehension. You also need the right rhythm. I can't tell you how many times in the past six months, I have ordered something in a café, only to be met with a perplexed look. One time I asked for some jus d'aNAnas (pineapple juice) and the waiter furrowed his brows. I repeated with more of a question mark. "Jus d'aNAnas?" "Ah," he said, "Jus d'ananAS." Yeah, like I said.

Bureaucracy

2006-02-10T03:15:20Z

In French, the word "bureaucratie" means both "bureaucracy" and "red tape" - the different meaning comes through by the length of your sigh after the word. Anyone deciding to come to France for any length of time will soon learn that like all stereotypes about any country's government procedures and employees, this one would also prove true.

In August, Geoff and I had made our decision to come to France the following month. Of course, when we looked into it, we learned that if you wanted to stay in France for longer than three months, you need a visa. Sounded quick and easy enough really, but four trips to the French Consulate later, we had our doubts on both points.

On our first visit to the French Consulate in Boston we picked up a sheet of paper that listed all the requirements for getting a visa, including four copies of an official statement of good conduct from our local police department, a letter of intent on why we wanted to go to France, our travel itineraries, multiple photos, and bank statements to prove we would not turn out to be a drain on the already strained French social system. And it all had to be translated into French by a pre-approved translator. Well, clearly we'd need to come back.

For the second visit, we spent over an hour in Kinko's trying to get all the copies together on a photocopier without collating abilities (about 50 pages for each of us and then four copies of each). By the time we made it to the Consulate, we were informed that their office closed at 12:30. Sigh, ok - that seemed like a short workday but who are we to judge?

Visit number three. We arrived at opening time and sat in the room for nearly two hours. As we waited, we witnessed mostly a very simple process of people submitting their applications and being told when they could return to pick up the visa. One student couldn't come back because he actually lived in Maine (the Boston office services all of New England) so he had to go and get a FedEx envelope so they could mail it to him. Finally it was our turn. We had all our papers in order, neatly collated. It seemed virtually impossible that they could ask for something we didn't have with us.

"You just want to vacation in France?" the guy behind the desk said, eyeing us suspiciously. "For more than three months?"

"Yeah," we answered. "Is that allowed?"

He had to go check. When he returned, he informed us that we needed an appointment.

"But we've just waited here for nearly two hours!" I exclaimed. Geoff elbowed me.

"Hmm," the guy said. "Let me see if someone can see you now." After a brief delay, he came back shaking his head. Realizing it probably didn't help our chances to throw a tantrum, we sighed, took down the appointment details and left quietly with our stack of papers and wasted day.

Ah, visit number four. We arrived for our appointment and waited patiently. Finally, a young French woman (i.e. a brunette with an accent) Nicole came to meet us and led us into her office. We took our seats and she asked us some questions. I started to understand what it must be like for a nervous boyfriend to meet the parents. It seemed she wanted to know what our intentions with France were. Of course, we had only the highest - we would respect her and not take advantage of her. We certainly never would make any more serious moves without your permission first.

Without warning, she started speaking French. "Vous savez comment parler français?" she asked.

Geoff looked at her blankly, but I answered, "Oui, un peu."

She raised an eyebrow.

"J'espère que je vais parler mieux quand nous avons le temps pour pratiquer," I added, making sure she knew we intended to learn French on our trip.

At this point, I got a full smile. She stamped our papers. "Ça va se passer," she promised.

We left, secure that we would be approved for the visa, but unfortunately having learned that it would take two to three months to be ready. It also had to be picked up within 30 days of issue or it would be invalid. The problem was that we intended to actually be in France from September to December and of course, the visa can't be picked up in France. So we would have to get clever.

When the visa was approved in November, I asked Nicole to send the papers to Brussels which met the rule of not picking it up in France, but was also only an hour away from Paris by train. However, I didn't want a repeat of the four visits to the consulate to accomplish one task. After calling the Brussels office about a hundred times with no answer, I finally got someone on the line. But my "Parlez-vous anglais?" was met with the inevitable "non." Sigh. A garbled French conversation ensued which seemed like it lasted three days. After several failed attempts, I finally came up with the right combination of French words which got him to look up my name. It hadn't been received. Ah.

I made another call to Nicole and then another hundred calls to the Brussels office over the next two weeks which finally rewarded me with an answer. From that call I did determine that they were there. What I was not able to determine was whether or not I could pick up Geoff's visa as well. Finally I asked (in French), "Can I obtain the visa for my husband too - Oui ou Non?" This sparked a long-winded French response which I didn't understand. Doesn't he understand a yes or no question is just that? Sigh. I finally gave up and decided to just go and hope for the best.

Arriving in Brussels before they opened worked well. There was only one person ahead of me. When it was my turn things went pretty well - in person conversations are clearly much easier than phone calls. I also discovered I was early enough not to be cut in line. The guy after me had two people (not together) boldly get assisted before him. And I left on time to make my train back with two passports outfitted with new visas.

Ok, now maybe it's just me, but this part doesn't make any sense. Any American can come to France for three months without any special paperwork. But in fact, our visa was only for three months. So this meant we just did all that work for basically the right we already had. Nonetheless, it was necessary because the next step was to apply for a carte de séjour. And you can't do that without the visa. So there you go.

I didn't have high hopes at this point that getting the carte de séjour would prove simple. I researched on the internet the right Préfecture de Police to go to and yet still inevitably went to the wrong one.

But when I did finally arrive at the right one (in the 17th arrondisement), I was amazed to find only one woman ahead of me in line. At my turn, I sat down with a woman and within five minutes had an appointment (granted for two and a half months later) to discuss a carte de séjour. Luckily I didn't need the birth certificate or marriage license that I didn't have. They did need the visa and one photo - both of which I did have. Hmm, that was too simple I thought. The complicated part must be ahead. I guess I'll find out April 21. To be continued...