 Perhaps because it's more out of the way, smaller, and slightly less spectacular than the Mercato Centrale, the Mercato di Sant'Ambrogio is frequented mostly by genuine Florentines and their wannabe compatriots.
However, since it's only a 15-20 minute walk from the Duomo, it can't really be considered off-the-beaten track, and certainly such a convenient yet relatively uncrowded market deserves a gastronomic visit...
Read the rest of: "Mercato di Sant'Ambrogio"»  The Trattoria da Rocco, inside the Mercato Sant' Ambrogio is one of the rare places in Florence where you will still hear more Italian than English at mealtime. Everyone eats lunch here, from the occasional bewildered tourist to businessmen to construction workers. It's open for lunch, from about 11 to whenever they run out of food.
The market itself is wonderful and deserves a review of its own, so suffice it to say that the trattoria is the same size as the regular stalls in the market but it's the one that looks more like a greenhouse. Don't be concerned if you can't find the door, there isn't any. Simply open one of the windows/walls and slide into a booth and prepare for a cheap, simple, and simply good meal...
Read the rest of: "Lunch at Trattoria da Rocco"» The title makes it sound as though you are about to view some B-movie about a perverted Dr. Frankenstein who gives life to zombies on other planets, but in actuality it was named by a German scientist who pioneered the process of plastination, which essentially means turning corpses and body parts into something more permanent. So basically, not too far off from my initial impression.
This exhibition at the museum of science in
Boston
is not something i would have gone to a few years ago. I've never had a strong stomach and
I am a sympathetic barfer. I even threw up at the alter during my own wedding! In recent years I've toughened up, to the point where I can clean up after the dog, bandage a wound, and scare away wild animals (well, at least the
odd moth or two). And so I thought I was ready for Body Worlds...
Read the rest of: "Body Worlds 2"»  The plaster dust from recent renovations has finally settled at Holt Renfrew, arguably the finest department store in Montreal. The store is shinier than ever, and designer clothing and fine perfumes await your every glance. However, if like me your idea of a good time doesn't usually include shopping, then you are in luck - Holt Renfrew is also home to unarguably some of the best in-store dining in the city. In fact, the basement Cafe Holt is a destination in itself, and not just for weary shoppers as I imagined.
Cafe Holt's modern decor is accompanied by a thoroughly modern gourmet menu, which is in turn centered around a very traditional bread....
Read the rest of: "Café Holt"»
 An unfortunate foray was made by yours truly into Roses, in response to its overly simplistic bus connection to Figueres - a mistake that will not be made again. This beach town on the Costa Brava has a lovely name, and a long and lovely sand beach, and little else of charm.
It is for the most part a package-holiday paradise for French pensioners and young families, with newly built condominiums dotting the shoreline, and many more sprouting nearby. In effect, it is exactly the opposite of what I look for a in a coastal escape...
Read the rest of: "Nothing's Coming Up Roses"»  Traditionally considered to be a classic "outing with the kids," apple picking is fun for really big kids, too (I happen to fall into the second category). The perfect place is only a half hour drive from Montreal, right next to Oka Park (for those of you who are familiar with its pristine beaches).
Saint Joseph-du-Lac is a town completely devoted to planting, growing, cultivating, juicing, and baking apples. In short, everything to do with apples except picking them - that you have to do yourself...
Read the rest of: "Saint Joseph-du-Lac: The Big Apple (of Quebec) "»
Somewhat inaccessibly located on the Costa Brava, this small fishing town is the perfect escape from the heat of Spain's major cities, a place to dally for days on end. Some hippies have been dawdling here for decades, and their presence keeps the town from developing into a full-blown designer village, à la Martha's Vineyard or the Hamptons. I can imagine this place becoming a more obscure "south of France" for celebrities, and get the sneaking suspicion that some of the hippies fishing off the rocks might in fact be celebrities incognito.
Cadaqués is famous for being Dalí's home, but my husband and I came for the beaches and stayed for the food and the slightly off-kilter atmosphere...
Read the rest of: "Dallying with Dalí in Cadaqués "» 
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"»  |
