Travel

Most everyone knows that in the UK an elevator is called a lift and an apartment is a flat, but beyond a few dozen words, we like to think that we speak the same language as our friends across the pond. Ha! 

I’ve been visiting for decades now, and the more I go, the more I know that sometimes, as I shake my head in assent, I’m not fully understanding what is being said.  There are completely different meanings for the same word, unknown expressions, syntactical differences and cultural nuances to be decoded in any conversation.  Reading the front page of The Guardian can be frustrating, and a quick trip to the supermarket can feel like a visit to a parallel universe.

Please enjoy this guide to not letting your eyes and stomach get the best of you while roaming around the city. Because folks, I only have your best interests in mind and would hate for you to pack on an additional nine pounds  (you read that right) while visiting this amazing city.

Let this be a lesson to you and plan accordingly. I happen to do gluttony very, very well. I’m sure the Pope would have something to say about that.

In all sincerity there is pure pleasure in being surrounded by people so passionate about the food of their country.  We were never short of suggestions and everyone was so gracious about explaining what makes their food so special. For me it was an eye-opening experience and one I hope to relive again very soon.

Ignore the Three Dinner Rule

Was it sheer excitement? Stupidity? Taking advantage of a good thing? You decide. But having three dinners in one night might have something to do with it. But could you blame me? With our useful guide and best friend Kristina we found ourselves stopping for pizza on the street, salumi, cheese and wine (with snacks!) and some gelato before ever making it to the restaurant. And then dessert.  I’ve been on Tapas Crawls in Spain before but I really outdid myself here.

Last week I endured the two most dreaded days of my life each year for the past 20 years. FAA mandated 'stewardess training,' formally known as "CQ." Stands for 'Continuing Qualification.' Ladies and Gentlemen, this has nothing to do with serving you drinks and meals, listening to all of your problems, helping you stow your 100 pound compact suitcases, with an everlasting smile on my face.

Lucky for me, every few years I go to Antibes, France with my family. When that happens I feel compelled to photograph almost everything I eat, before I eat it. There are two reasons for this ritual: One, French food is so gorgeous it's just begging to be photographed. Two, photographing it is almost my way of saying grace for and being mindful of the bounty of food (and, trust me, it's bountiful) I'm about to consume. Food is fleeting. The photos are forever.

For the last two trips I've posted these collections on Facebook and have received a really positive response. It sometimes amazes me how much pleasure people take in looking at photographs of food they can't taste, but I suppose that goes hand-in-hand with people who love TV shows about food they also can't taste (see: The Food Network). 

1. When I arrived in Antibes, my mother had picked up some peaches and strawberries at the daily open-air market in  Antibes. Those strawberries were some of the sweetest I'd ever tasted, and after that the purchase and immediate consumption of them became a daily ritual.