It's 5 am. You've just wandered from the far east side of Alphabet City, in search of pizza, a hot sandwich, SOMETHING that isn't deli chips. But everything is closed!
Wander no more! Hot food awaits at the corner of St. Marks and 2nd Avenue in the East Village...
Read the rest of: "Hot Bamn!"»
What is left for mama's boys (and girls) when all the clubs in the city
are occupied by doped-up teens acting agressively towards perpetually
high-strung art students? Where should we go, when cinemas are too dark
for these prudish girls (that someone will use the cover of darkness
for their own dark ways is the most common fear of an overage square),
when creepy old ladies restrain our melancholic reflections in our
philarmonic armchairs and our empiric attempts to find new concepts in
old museum artifacts? The conclusion is obvious: head for a café...
Read the rest of: "Cafés Imitate Life in St. Petersburg"»  On my first visit to Grassroots Tavern, I accepted a $3 pint of Red Hook ESB from the bartender—which in New York City, is a pleasant surprise in and of itself. Being one of New York's many subterranean drinking dens, the place has a basement feel—with low, ornate tin ceilings and weathered wood surroundings. There was a cat walking the wooden planks, which had been blackened from over sixty years of drunken shuffling. The bartender, an efficient man in his sixties, worried out loud that the cat might get downstairs into the basement.
I started to feel a bit like I was in someone's home, and that's always a good sign...
Read the rest of: "Grassroots Tavern"»  While the rest of you are out scoping out scenic bus tours of Barcelona and bronzing on the city beach, please excuse me, 'cause I'll be at the fish market getting back to my Mediterranean roots.
In fact, for me, this place is the only reason to go to Las Ramblas. With 7 kinds of shrimp, live lobsters crawling off tables, hundreds of crazy-looking fish and creatures I don't even recognize, I will be entertained for hours. Thank Neptune (or his Spanish twin Neptuno) we have rented an apartment with a hot plate - now I won't have to go away empty-handed. (Because I would rather eat a raw flounder than leave without buying something. Yes, thank Neptune indeed for that hot plate!)...
Read the rest of: "The Seafood Side of Spain"» 
With $300 in our collective pocket, my future husband, his little brother, and I chased down the dawn bus from Tirana to Saranda, the southernmost city in Albania.
After traveling 40 miles in 8 hours (which tells you something about Albanian roads), I finally realized the strange noises coming from the back of the bus were coming from a (live) duck in a plastic bag carried by a respectable looking gentleman (which tells you something about Albanian buses).
I took this in stride, in part because I have the blessed talent of being able to sleep on public transport and because, after all, the best way to travel in Albania is with an Albanian watching over you. Or two.
For the next 10 days we alternated between staring at the sea and staring at the sky, taking a break for a well-earned lunch...
Read the rest of: "Sun and Sea in Saranda"»  Sometimes being a tourist in my own city is my favorite thing to do. It gives me a fresh perspective on the city I love, and the break from my routine (subway, homework, class, subway, homework, class) inspires me to explore my terrain even further.
Typically, I associate most goings-on in Central Park with tacky tourists, but who's to say I myself am not tacky?! It was with great gusto and old New York romantic notions that I rented a row boat with my friends on the Lake in Central Park...
Read the rest of: "Row Your Boat Gently Across Central Park"»  L'Entrecôte St. Jean is an establishment that has been there approximately forever, in part because of its prime location in downtown Montreal (the corner of Peel St. and Maisonneuve) and in part because its formula just works. Mix one part indecision, two parts repetition, a dash of hospitality, a slab of steak, a sprinkling of chocolate and a glass of red wine. That simple formula could be a critic's worst nightmare, but that's only because they would be going there with the wrong attitude...
Read the rest of: "Comfort Food for Carnivores: L'Entrecôte St. Jean"» 
Fondue in Barcelona? Well, why the hell not? That's what we said when after a five-minute deliberation involving counting dining patrons and talking to a kitchen employee on a cigarette break, we decided to "go for it".
Apparently approving of our decision, the ultra-modern glass door slid away automatically, and with that we stepped inside "GADES"...
Read the rest of: "Fondue'ing at Gades in Barcelona"» 
When I am at the beach, things that would usually irritate me - communal showers, peeling paint, strange creatures found bedside- take on a certain charm. All I want after a day in the sun is be lulled to sleep by the surf and feel a slight sprinkling of sand between the sheets. And so I like the Hostal Cristina, a simple but adequate hotel by the water's edge in Cadaqués (a small town on Spain's Costa Brava).
Read the rest of: "Hostal Cristina, Cadaqués"»  Italy is known for its coffee, and rightly so.
I don't know what the secret is, but I suspect
it's something in the water, the atmosphere, or possibly the technique involved in ordering and drinking it because try as I might, I cannot replicate the perfect espresso experience anywhere else. Follow these simple guidelines and you too can discover the joy of drinking coffee in Italy...
Read the rest of: "How to Order / Drink Coffee in Italy "»
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