My Friend Jo...Malone

I have a new best friend forever (BFF), Jo. Jo Malone to be exact....okay, so she comes in a bottle with a pump. But I can't get enough of her scents. I love the grapefruit body oil -- it's perfect after a long shower just off the beach. I had some scent, oops, I mean sent up here last week from Saks....gotta love good ol' UPS when you are here on Fire Island, without access to such luxurious products. That's unless you consider Aloe Vera gel and Avon Skin So Soft to be luxurious, of course. I figure since I'm officially on vacation, I can indulge a bit.

Fire Island Cocktails

Well, it's been over two weeks here - glorious sun, blue skies, emerald green waves and lazy afternoons. I'm convinced that all Americans should be required to take at least 2 weeks of vacation -- sort of the like the French. Oh, that's right -- they have a minimum of five weeks paid leave. But, I digress. Every day here has been magical, surrounded by family and friends, some of whom have never visited before. They are amazed by the easy pace, lack of cars, lack of hustle and bustle...and the wonders of sleep induced by the ocean breeze at night.

This week, I have perfected my signature "island cocktail," subjecting my husband and a guest to my experimental 2nd batch! Grapefruit vodka, topped off with grapefruit juice and sugar, shaken in a martini shaker and poured over ice and mint. I top it off with a fresh lemon.

Cocktail hour is overdue. Gotta run.

The Simpler Things in Life

Last week, I bought these beautiful, colorful tomatoes at the market. Don't they just remind you of everything that's good about summer? Fresh tomatoes with pepper? Vanilla ice cream just before bed? The slight sting of too much sun?Corn on the cob dripping with butter? A cold beer after coming off the beach? Burgers off the grill? Sand between your toes? Salty skin after a day at the beach, riding waves?

That too tired feeling that comes at night after a long day of doing nothing at the beach?

Life here for the past few weeks has been that simple -- no deadlines, no watches, no alarms and practically no e-mail. There have been days when I don't check my voicemail 'til right before bed and instead try to focus on the here and now.

How Do Those French Women Do It?

I've been thinking a lot these past 2 weeks of vacation about French women. You know, the kind that are always dressed perfectly, entertain perfectly, and eat perfectly. They don't seem to have weight problems the same way that American women do. And so, I've been wondering...if I eat the homemade ice cream I've just made, gorge myself on blueberry jam, continue drinking red wine each night at sundown and generally, engage in vacation eating habits...can I possibly look like a French woman? The bestseller, French Women Don't Get Fat, chronicled some of these mysteries -- it's sitting on my living room table at home. I think that will be my next beach read now that I'm halfway done with Eat, Pray, Love and the The Perfect Stranger. In the meantime, I'm going to indulge in a nice French Pan Bagnat for lunch.

Croatian Dreaming

A few months ago, you may recall that I posted about my good friends who have been delaying their wedding for months -- well, in fact, years. He is an American living in Zagreb and she is a lovely woman born and raised there. They've been together many years but a series of events, including the formation of their own business, has delayed the wedding time and time again. They attended our wedding in Italy a few years back and I've been friends with them both since the days when I lived in Croatia. There have been rumors of weddings taking place before but this time they have finally decided on a location, the date, the food menu and even "hired" her assistant to help with the planning. So, they will be married on September 22nd in a beautiful town near Pula and I'm already longing to go. Problem is that the flights are outrageously expensive now.

But I am already dreaming of where we will stay -- Villa Astra along the coast in Lovran. It's a lovely villa that I visited in May. My husband, daughter and I sat outside near the pool, with a warm ocean breeze and got to know the owner over a glass of wine. He struggled mightily with the bureaucracy and Communists to buy the 7-room facility, which is now amazingly situated in a flowering garden with views of the Adriatic. It was once the summer home to Austrian-Hapsburg royalty and you can almost hear the sounds of violins and piano melodies when you walk through its high-ceilinged salons.

Pass the Jam, Please

Pass the jam, please. The homemade blueberry jam, that is. Yes, I've elevated myself to the likes of Martha Stewart here on Fire Island (well, if you can imagine Martha Stewart in a polka dot bikini, that is) -- picking bowls and bowls of blueberries from the wild bushes that grow in our yard and whipping up a batch of blueberry jam yesterday. This morning, I opened the container in anticipation. Toasted my bread. Spread it with butter. Spooned on the jam. And alas, it was yummy. Very yummy. Life slows down here so much that I have time to read recipes, think about what's for dinner, run to the corner market several times and try out all sorts of new delicacies.

* Photo courtesy of marthastewart.com

Fire Island Decorating 101

We've been in this house for five years on Fire Island -- a true work in progress. It's customary to pass houses down from generation to generation, and all the contents in them. So when we bought this house, we also got the furniture (including a great wrought iron bed I found in the attic), the linens, the china, the lamps and the rugs. It's taken me a long time to weed out the good from the bad, put a fresh coat of Antique White paint on the furniture and fill it with our family treasures -- photos, shells found on the beach, books and music. I've also recently splurged on a love seat, having fallen in love with the hot pink Robert Allen fabric on a trip to Massachusetts last summer. These photos are some of my inspirations.

Summer Breeze Makes me Feel Fine

It just take a few hours around here and suddenly one doesn't need much...a swimsuit...a little sunscreen...and a cold drink. Ah, life is good. Throw in a lounge chair, a few pillows and a cushy towel and life is even better. While we usually lounge at the beach, our deck has been shaping up the last few seasons here on Fire Island with great loungers, a few lanterns for evening and some new cushy beach towels....

Beautiful Beach...

I'm finally here..D.C. National to JFK...to a waiting car...to the ferry (one minute to spare)! But it was worth it all as hot weather, warm ocean breezes and a beautiful blue ocean awaited. I cherish these days on the island, sand under my toes, fresh blueberries off of the bushes that grow wild in our yard and no schedule, other than the tide. Happy hour usually begins after a long day at the beach...a cosmopolitan prepared by my husband's aunt. And then we relax some more. There's no fuss to Fire Island, often referred to as the anti-Hamptons so I wouldn't likely wear these wonderful Trina Turk numbers...but then again, they certainly are tempting.

Hot, so Hot, Summer in Hvar

It's 95 and humid here today. It's hooooooooooooot. Reminds me of that summer. That summer on Hvar, the beautiful, tiny island off the coast of Croatia which is dotted with pine trees, lavender plants, beautiful beaches and beautiful people. The local legend is that it never rains there -- and one hotel advertises that they will reimburse you for the cost of your room if it does (knowing the Croatians as I do, I highly doubt it but the thought is nice). We had arrived by sailboat, sailing with two of my good friends from the States for over a week. We stayed in a small pension overlooking the city -- no air-conditioning, of course, but amazing views of the city harbor. And then due to the scorching heat, the water got diverted to a forest fire. So that night we "showered" with bottled water, headed into town for cocktails and sweated along with all of the beautiful Italians on holiday. Ah, summer on Hvar.

Traveling Locally, Thinking Globally

Well, I didn't have to go far today to think globally. Just a few blocks from home and I was surrounded by a group of foreign policy experts, including former Secretary of State Madeline Albright, former Secretary of Defense Frank Carlucci and Former Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge. The event was sponsored by the Center for U.S. Global Engagement, a group formed of diverse actors to broaden understanding of America's interest in "building a better, safer world." It would seem logical to bring together the diplomatic, business and development communities yet that has not taken place with the degree of focus necessary. So, this group will focus on incorporating the greater use of development and diplomacy into the 2008 Presidential campaigns. Stay tuned.

http://www.usglobalengagement.org/

Shashi Tharoor

Ah, he was charming. He delivered appropriate jokes. The right intonation. The perfect British accent. The little sparkle in his eye. The slight grin. He talked of "soft power." He had lived in Yugloslavia. We had so much in common.

He was my...commencement speaker. Yesterday, I received my master's degree in international relations from the Global Master of Arts Program at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts. Shashi Tharoor is no usual commencement speaker, having finished second last year in the race for election to the post of Secretary General of the UN, a prolific writer of fiction and non-fiction and a key UN figure for more than two decades. One can see why, given his intellect, public speaking prowess and diplomatic skills. Yesterday, he gave a brilliant address regarding India and its influence in the world, from IT to Bollywood. I couldn't help but smile at the "coincidence" of the fact that I had written my thesis on the impact of USAID on U.S. soft power.

Now onto other reads by this prolific writer. Perhaps you'd like to see what he's all about:
http://www.shashitharoor.com/books.html

And He's Right -- and a Brit

I can't help but put my foreign policy hat on some days. Today is a day like that, having recently read the speech by the new secretary of development for the UK -- delivered just last week at the Council on Foreign Relations in Washington, D.C. In his speech, Douglas Alexander talks of climate change, population migration, the moral and political imperatives facing all nations -- and ultimately the role that international development can play to bring about positive change. He espouses ideas and solutions that I wish an American development director would bring to the table. His approach is straightforward and common sense, given the senselessness that seems to surround us each day, from Baghdad to Ramhallah to Darfur.

"It can be right, when certain conditions are met, to intervene in the affairs of countries to prevent genocide, crimes against humanity, humanitarian suffering or threats to democracy. We believe that our collective responsibility to protect individuals transcends the right of nations to absolute sovereignty. And, finally, we must be driven by core values, not special interests. Our place in the world depends on us making choices based on values – values like opportunity, responsibility, justice. It’s these values that inform our enduring commitment to human rights, democracy and good governance. It is these values that call us to ensure that power, wealth and opportunity are distributed more equitably. And it is these values that remind us that we have a responsibility to act as global stewards of the environment for the sake of future generations."

We must try to take to heart his comments, not just those working in international relations and foreign development, but those around the world trying to make a difference.

Back in the Other World

I'm back...in the other world. The world of learning, intellectual exploration and discovery. Last year, at the "ripe" old age of 40 (a term I now associate with conflict resolution!), while consulting, traveling internationally for work and raising a three-year-old, I decided to go back to graduate school. I found an interesting, culturally-diverse professional master's program at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy in Massachusetts. It allowed me to continue working, sacrifice all of my personal time -- and emerge a year later feeling intellectually invigorated. I'll soon have a diploma in hand. This morning, my colleague from Mozambique, reminded me what the GMAP program is all about as he defended his thesis on the conflict in Northern Uganda. It was a thoughtful, well-prepared defense and he was unflappable. One of our professors called in from Greece. At my sides were colleagues from Indonesia, the U.K., Thailand and wide points across the U.S. I'm already reminded after being here just a few hours of the great benefits this program has afforded me and the way I now look at the world's problems and challenges.

Taking Our Picture, Please

"Stop Trying to Save Africa, Please"

Uzodinma Iweala, the author of Beasts of No Nation (the book referenced here) wrote an editorial in yesterday's Washington Post that should give us all pause. I read his book a few months back, a harrowing, fictional account of a boy child soldier in a fictional African country (but all too real, it seems). In this editorial, he is angered by the way in which Americans have embraced African causes, including violence in Darfur, as "fashionable" and "trendy." He finds the latest edition of Vanity Fair offensive, as he sees it being about whites saving the continent -- rather than Africans continuing to find solutions for themselves.

He's right, of course. But we can't help it. Because of Americans' search for quick fixes and immediate gratification, we have a tendency to oversimplify - think simple solutions and funding will solve the world's problems. My trip to Ethiopia a few years ago, during one of its near famines, was a reminder that this is never the case - as social, economic and political challenges are intertwined and all too often problems are exacerbated over time. Nevertheless, when we stop caring about these nations,when we stop trying to find solutions to poverty and HIV/AIDS, when we turn away rather than seek to do something, something is very wrong. Let's hope that day never comes.

Massage, Heavenly Massage

As I've posted before, I'm a bit of a massage snob -- can't help it. I know it's extravagant. I bit hedonistic. But, my vices could be worse, right?

As I've traveled, I've always found it worthwhile to find an hour or two to squeeze in this indulgence. Yesterday, in the midst of a tumultuous weekend finishing a master's thesis for a professional program in international affairs, I snuck away from the keyboard for an hour to a place just down the street. I was prepared to be disappointed; but was pleasantly surprised by the masseuse's skills and technique. It brought back memories of my favorite massages, including a few in Thailand over the years.

Just one look at the website of this place in northern Thailand that I visited 2 years back and it makes me want to return -- tomorrow! Oh, maybe next year!

 

The Little Sister

She was a beautiful little girl, helping her older sister sweep with a broom made out of palm leaves at the temple we were visiting that early Cambodian morning. We were near Angkor Wat, visiting one of the less popular temples devoid of Japanese tourists with their long camera lenses and loud colors. She came to us shyly at first...but then her little smile made us smile and provided a perfect photo. Old and young juxtaposed in harmony.

I Love this Photo

I've been going through my travel photos lately...again related to my itch to travel given the respite I've had the last few weeks. I just came across this little girl who I met in the backstreets of Cairo a few years back. I was there with a USAID colleague visiting the "slums" where we had provided U.S. funding to clean up dirty streets and provide clean drinking water. The children were oblivious to all of that, despite the long-term effects it could have on their health. They wanted gum and pens. "Pens, please, miss," they would plead as they gathered around and followed my every stop. This is a request I've heard repeated from East Timor to Cambodia. But this beautiful, brown eyed girl didn't chase me with the same intensity -- but a sense of curiousity about my visit.

Fire Island Feelings

The long weekend is over and I'm already dreading the return to Washington, D.C. Fire Island is a magical place -- no cars, no roads, few streetlights and just the sound of the ocean rocking me to sleep each night. I sleep better, eat better and feel better...a combination of sunshine, sea air and the cool breezes which blow in through our open windows each night. Fire Island is the place where our kids can run in their barefeet, eat ice cream before lunch, roll and play in the surf for hours and then fall into bed exhausted each evening.

A Fortunate 4th of July Weekend

Hooray...it's 4th of July weekend. Grilled chicken and salads. Icy cold drinks at sundown. We've assembled all of our materials for the kids parade. We've got red, white and blue lights to hang. I'm poring over recipes in Food and Wine for tonight's rum cocktail and grilling ideas. The sky is cloudless today and the kids are being reasonably well behaved. We're on Fire Island -- our home away from home. It doesn't quite yet look like the picture but we're getting there...and this is the vision I have of the place. I guess we're supposed to give thanks on another holiday for people and things in our lives...but I'm giving thanks today for this wonderful home.

A Fortunate Day

How lucky we are, I think to myself last night when my husband returns home from Kenyan...and I'm driving home to meet him in my air-conditioned car. I'm thinking about the African country he just returned from and my travels through South Africa, Ethiopia, and Senegal to name a few. These pictures are of a clinic I visited a few years back in Dakar, Senegal -- the women waited patiently for vaccinations for their children. It was a sweltering, hot day but they were dressed beautifully, intricate turbans wrapped their smiling faces. They were not only willing to have their pictures taken -- some begged me to do so. I walked away thinking about my daughter, our easy rides to the doctor's office for shots and how fortunate we are, indeed.

Kenyan goodies

My husband is back safe and sound from Nairobi. He just spent ten days in Kenya for work -- but managed to squeeze in some of the local markets and shopping scene. I anticipate his arrival for many emotional reasons but there is a certain element of breathless anticipation to see what treasures he found this time. He did not disappoint. An intricate beaded necklace and warrior carvings for me....a colorful blue, green, yellow and red piece of woven material. Animal carvings for my daughter of zebras, giraffes, an elephant and an ostrich. I can come closer to Kenya through these items, each picked out with loving care. I am already envisioning the perfect place for my fabric (I'm a bit of a textile junkie!). Thank you sweetheart and welcome home!

In Search Of....

I'm always in search of the perfect travel gadget or accessory. I have the Bose sound-proofing head phones (love 'em), a warm light purple cashmere throw (I'm always cold on overseas flights) and lotions and potions in pint size containers stuffed into my travel bag. I also just bought a beautiful travel bag...to add to my collection, that it. Today, I found a website which seems to have my name written all over it. (http://www.flight001.com/) sells nifty gadgets, wallets and such....and even in-flight music CDS. Bon voyage!

Vanity Fair on Africa

If you haven't had a chance to pick up the latest copy of Vanity Fair run out and get it now! I'm a regular subscriber...I can't resist reading Dominick Dunne's hilarious take on high society but I also find the journalism to be rather good. You'll find stories here about Kosovo, Africa, Asia and elsewhere that you won't find elsewhere. I'm fascinated by this month's issue devoted to Africa and edited by Bono. It features a picture of the Prez and Desmond Tutu on the cover and is filled with articles written by notable African journalists and Hollywood types, including Madonna. Last night, given my husband's trip to Africa, I read about Kenya and the explosion in small trading, the grey market and kiosks. It's what has kept the country moving forward despite corruption and political intrigue. Somalian markets like this one my husband visited are plentiful. Can't wait to see what he found!

Kenyan adventure

It's been a few days since I've posted...exhaustion has set in. I wish I could say that I have life under control but with my husband overseas, I'm frankly a bit frazzled. While I was putting in some office time this weekend, he was looking at this view. I can't begrudge him that. He's in Kenya and I am jealous of this truly African beach with a man and camel in tow.

Italian Wedding

It was just four years ago today that I walked down the aisle -- or as my husband likes to say “what aisle?” We were married by a Communist-leaning Italian mayor on a green, lush lawn at a beautiful stone villa looking out over the Tuscan valley. It was a magical week with an amber sun that seemed to shine on us. The wine, olives, proscuitto and melt-in-your mouth mozzarella were abundant. Today, we are celebrating in a reflection of the way we conduct our lives doing international work – my husband is in Nairobi and I’m here in Washington, D.C. We’ll toast each other from afar. So, happy anniversary, dearest husband! It's been a wonderful four years.

Getting there: http://www.cornacchi.com/index2.html

Thailand's Finest

Okay, I must admit it. I’m a bit of a massage snob. I’ve been spoiled, you see. Several times when traveling through Southeast Asia for work, I’ve gotten up early in the morning or squeezed in an hour late at night to get a Thai massage. On vacation in Thailand six years back, my friend and I also indulged in every opportunity -- at the Thai massage school at Wat Pho in Bangkok, the oldest and largest religious temple in Thailand...at the waterfront resort where we stayed on Ko Lanta (our splurge!)...in Chiang Mai in between bargaining at the night market... and even at a few places near Angor Wat in Siem Reap, Cambodia. While I’m always happy with a standard Swedish massage, there is something more physical and fulfilling about a Thai massage given by an experienced masseuse. The pulling and stretching always leaves me feeling on top of this world. My husband jokes that I can find a spa no matter where in the world I’m traveling – and this is partially true. But what better way to truly experience a culture? I feel a bit more Thai because of it!

Christmas in Chiang Mai

It was Christmas Day. I guess I should have been back in the U.S. opening gifts close to a Douglass fir, with the sounds of White Christmas on the stereo and fluffy flakes falling quietly outside. But that prospect had me depressed a few years back (before I met my husband). That’s how I ended up at Chiang Mai at cooking school feasting on yellow curry chicken and bananas with coconut milk that December 25th. One of my best girlfriends and I decided the previous August that we just couldn’t take another Christmas at home with the ‘rents and so we decided that a Thai/Cambodian adventure was in order. And if we were going all that way, we had to learn how to cook up some better Thai treats. Seven courses late that Christmas day, we had succeeded in putting the finishing touches on fish wrapped in banana leaves and pork with wide noodles, comprised of fresh vegetables and noodles that we had shopped for earlier that day with an instructor. (Did you know that the shape of cashew you pick out is important?). To this day, it remains one of my fondest memories of a Christmas holiday.

Chiang Mai Thai Cookery School: http://www.thaicookeryschool.com/

Thai antiques and more

I was scrambling around last night after work trying to find the brochure for this amazing -- and I mean amazing -- house and antique "store" I visited on my last trip to Bangkok -- the Amantee. A work colleague, Suzanne, (a very hip, 50-something who has lived overseas most of her adult life, wears great platform shoes and hangs out with various Czech artists and such) took me there. Because she knows the owner, and has invested a fair amount in Asian antiques of every size and shape, we were invited to lunch. This was a typical Thai-style house -- peaked roofs, no walls, incredible, lush vegetation. We were served a simple but tasty lunch of fish and noodles, rich with Asian spices, by her cook. We spent most of that Saturday afternoon browsing through rows of antique day beds, bureaus and assorted other furniture that I lusted after. A work colleague and I pondered whether we could split a shipping crate and get them home. We ultimately decided not to but it's just as well -- now I HAVE to go back.

Have a look: www.amantee.com if you are visiting Bangkok or just doing some armchair traveling.

The Children of the World

Last night, I went back and looked at some pictures from my last trip to Thailand....and was struck by many of the children that I encountered. I've visited schools, AIDS clinics and hospitals during my travels for work -- and it's always the children that I remember most. In Bangkok, I went to a school run by the Jesuits that educates and cares for children who either have AIDS or are living with someone who does. In some cases, their parents had alreay died and they were living in tiny beds lined up by the dozen on the 2nd and 3rd floors. So, today I am thinking about many of them. The question is, really, how to help? Then by chance, I got an interesting e-mail from Daily Candy about a bag you can purchase, proceeds from which will feed a child for one school year. I encourage you to check it out: http://www.amazon.com/ (Search: Feed Bag) It's a very small step but one worth considering.

Northern Thailand -- Spa Treat

I have a holiday weekend in Thailand. I'm filled with anticipation about my long weekend. My husband has graciously agreed for me to take an extra day since I've traveled all of this way. I've been to the beaches on the coast. I've been to Chiang Mai. I've stayed in Bangkok. So late Friday afternoon I fly up to Chiang Rai, the northern traingle which borders Burma and Laos. It's not just any hotel where I'll be staying as I've done my research again. I've decided to stay at my ideal hotel/spa location -- the Anatara.

It does not disappoint nor does my trip on a long boat on the river under a blazing sun past a large golden Buddha, stopping for hot tea at a local tea house. I indulge in a 3-hour long spa treatment which starts with a foot bath overlooking the river and ends with a nice late afternoon rain shower as I'm engulfed in my fluffy spa robe.

Weekend Market -- Bangkok

Yesterday, I got to reminiscing about the Four Seasons Hotel in Bangkok. But I can’t help but think about this great city without thinking about the weekend market. It’s one of the most intense shopping experiences I’ve had in my life – stalls packed with literally everything under the sun. You can purchase live animals here. You can purchase flip flops for about $1. I’ve also salivated over glazed dishes, purchased an entire set of silverware and bought a great pair of Puma knock off running shoes for $3. My saving grace has been a map prepared a few years back by Nancy Chandler (http://www.nancychandler.net/) which breaks down the market by sections. It’s a must if you plan to go! Take the subway there early and then take a cab back after you’ve exhausted yourself…preferably to a cool drink waiting at the Four Seasons.

Did Someone Say Bangkok?

A colleague at work today mentioned he might get to go to Bangkok in September. Oh, please take me along I thought! I can't help but think of one of my favorite hotels -- the Four Seasons. I've been there a few times and it is simply magical. The service is impeccable, the decor is breathtaking and Asian hospitality cannot be matched. But my favorite memory is of the night I arrived late after a hail and lightning storm eliminated the runway lights at the Chaing Rai airport -- but that is another story. This is a hotel where they greet return guests at the door by name. So when I arrived at about 2 a.m. and was escorted to this palatial suite outfitted in cool white leathers and dark ebony marbles, I was, well, ecstatic. But, oh, so sad. I only had 4 hours until I had to leave for the airport for my flight back to the U.S. Nevertheless, I took a long, leisurely shower in the glass shower complete with "rain forest" shower head, lounged in the fluffy, white robe on the down comforter and then walked cooly through the living room several times before falling into bed after 3 a.m.

WHERE TO STAY

The Four Seasons, Bangkok: http://www.fourseasons.com/bangkok/

A Small Fix for the Shopping Bug

I have a terrible habit. Shopping. Not the kind done in U.S. malls on weekends. I'm talking shopping during my travels overseas (particularly for textiles). I have fabrics from Senegal, wall hangings and pillows from East Timor, silk pillow covers from Thailand and Cambodia, hand-woven baskets from Lesotho and necklaces from just about everywhere I've ever visited. I always take an extra bag along that is brimming full by the end of my trips. The weekend market in Bangkok has certainly gotten an economic boost from my travels. But now I've discovered armchair shopping on two great websites (both with stores in Washington, D.C.) which are focused on fair trade goods. http://www.novica.com/ which is affiliated with National Geographic and StoreFront which is operated by the IFC. It's not a complete substitute by any means for my market bargaining and feeling of bliss when I find the perfect bowl or fabric, but it sure is nice on a rainy Sunday in June.

And Another Perfect Day

Thinking about that lazy, perfect Sunday afternoon in South Africa also got me thinking about other perfect days I've had in the past few months. What can be better than a deserted Mexican beach in March -- while snow flakes are swirling around the U.S.? Even better if it's early in the morning and there is no one else in sight on the beach? Ah, Tulum...yes, fond memories of this place as well. Cold beers...fresh guacamole...and yes, there was a late afternoon spa treatment involved that featured fresh chunks of aloe and a honey/sand scrub all undertaken at an outdoor spa on the edge of the ocean. Yes, that was a perfect day.

A Perfect Afternoon

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon. We enjoy a bottle of chilled white wine overlooking the valley on an expansive rolling lawn, dotted by vineyards below. After the bottle is finished, we move onto the terrace for a lovely brunch. Then back to the lawn for more wine and finally coffee. Now the sun is going down and most of the restaurant guests have left. It's our paradise of fading sunlight and a slight wine buzz. It's just me, my friend and his girlfriend and the restaurant owners and their parents who are visiting from London with all of their children frolicking on the lawn. Did I mention we're on a hillside overlooking Franschhoek? Such a perfect afternoon.

And While I'm Thinking About South Africa

A few months back I had the chance to visit South Africa -- 5 days of conference drudgery in a drab Jo'burg hotel was completely forgotten after my weekend visit to Franschhoek. It started with a quick flight down to Cape Town and then a 45 minute, breathtaking drive through wine country. Around every turn was a sweeping golden valley framed by blue sky. I arrived at my host's beautiful guest house complete with swimming pool and mountain views and was whisked off to lunch at Reuben's, a restaurant with a lovely garden setting which of course, offers up delightful local wines. Later that night, we sat out on my friend's patio with a few friends doing more eating and drinking. I was so taken by the unspoiled nature of the place -- despite the American real estate agents who moved there from NYC a few years back -- that I came home armed with brochures for my husband...convinced we must buy a place there. Nothing's happened yet...but we are definitely going back this winter.

 

Ode to Africa

I just got a wonderful African tale of adventure from my friend, Jo, today. It deserves a week of postings...but I'll try to give you some highlights. You see Jo headed into the "bush" -- he's rather famous for these adventures after his trip through Burma a few years back in a small boat he had constructed and sent to Southeast Asia. There were accusions of spying, Burmese generals greeted him along the way...it was like the travel tales of ol'. But, I digress. Now our friend, Jo, lives in picturesque South African wine country just north of Stellenbosch where I visited last November and seriously considered buying property. (I'll definitely write more about this later). But, now Jo and his girlfriend, Sami, have just completed a trip throughout South Africa, Botswana and Zimbabwe in a vehicle they called the Dogcatcher....photos to follow.

Truffles Anyone?

Okay, well I'm back...to the U.S., that is. You can see that there has been a hiatus in my posts due to my odyssey back via Frankfurt (I detest that airport) and a one-hour wait on the JFK runway. I've had reverse culture shock. I admit it. I miss my strong daily coffee and the occasional Nescafe with hot, whipped milk. I miss my hot cherry pastry, the extra flaky kind. I miss the sound of trams and the ease of walking Zagreb's streets from meeting to meeting. Don't get me wrong about my life here but I am determined to find a little of Croatia in the U.S. So far, my efforts have been rather unproductive. The on-line wine seller of Plavac I found through Food and Wine does not ship to where I live. You actually have to pick them up....in California!! The on-line seller of Dalmatian products only turns out to have olive oil and one type of jam. Regardless, I have my truffle oil and a precious truffle purchased in Motovun. This weekend, I am making pasta with truffle oil and will have to substitute a fine Italian wine. Seems the New York Times had something to say about this a few weeks back.
The British are invading the land of truffles. Oh my! Check it out: http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/05/06/travel/06explorer.html

Coffee with Milk, Please

Next week is going to be very difficult. How will I find an outdoor cafe crowded with people? Will anyone be willing to serve me coffee with milk in a nice china cup with saucer? Will they understand how I can linger over it for at least an hour? Not likely. Tomorrow I am returning to the U.S. after nearly a month in Croatia. In between a hectic work schedule, I managed to partake in a coffee or two (or probably 50). Business gets done here over coffee. Ideas get shared. People converse. Forget about laptops and newspapers. Cafes are for talking and sipping. Oh, how I'll miss the sipping. But mostly I'll miss the feel of this place.

They're Getting Married!

Okay, their names will be changed to protect the innocent...but I have two friends (let's call them Joshua and Morana) who live here in Zagreb who just can't seem to get it together......to get married! Yes, they are in love. Yes, they are engaged. Yes, they live together. Yes, they are both successful. Yes, they've attended lots of weddings together to get ideas about matrimony. But alas, they are not organized enough to find time to get down the aisle. So over a few bottles of wine the other night, I offered to help plan their wedding. You see, I got married in Tuscany a few years back (yes, that's the villa above). I planned it for 40 people from the U.S. and abroad in less than 7 weeks. So, I guess they thought I was cut out for the job. So, I really can't write more. Between work and trying to return to the United States (I'm still in Croatia) later this week, I need to de-brief my friend Morana. Stay tuned.

The Effects of War

It is hard for most Americans to truly understand war – particularly my generation. We see it remotely on television screens and analyzed on Sunday morning news shows but seldom have we come up close and personal with it. In contemporary terms, aside from Pearl Harbor and the 9/11 attacks, our cities have not been shelled and destroyed and ethnic cleansing has never taken place on our soil. My friends in former Yugoslavia are not so lucky. In the past few weeks, I’ve gotten together with several of them – and while they are successful, many having worked for international organizations, their parents are not so fortunate. In their 40’s when the disintegration occurred, most lost their jobs, livelihoods and homes – and ultimately their sense of themselves. They were transplanted to different countries and some never worked again. My friends’ parents are now in their 50’s – struggling to claim pensions and eke out a living by selling off all remaining assets and relying on their children to sustain them. I feel sadness for all of them and the precious years they lost because of a senseless war. I feel happiness for my friends who are not only surviving – but excelling. And I feel thankful that they are able to provide for their parents in a way that most of us will never know.

Croatian Friendliness

Frankly, you can’t blame Croatians for being a bit grouchy a few years back. Their country was shattered by war. Hotels were inhabited by refugees. Savings accounts were lost. Families were torn apart and forced to leave the only home they had ever known. This is what transpired in Croatia just a little over a decade ago as Yugoslavia disintegrated into war and chaos. As an expatriate living here in the late 90’s, I encountered many Croatians who I would describe as less than “consumer friendly” – particularly hotel and wait staff not to mention numerous store clerks. On my recent trip to Croatia, however, I am pleasantly surprised by the friendliness of those I’ve encountered at every step of the way. Mind you, I’m not just talking about hotel staff at refurbished hotels. A toll collector asks if I’m having a good time in his country and apologizes for the state of the road, which I’ve just traveled dotted with construction delays. Store clerks seem more helpful and smile when they hand you your bag. Perhaps it’s the optimism that I have for this country that compels me to see it in new light. But somehow, I think they, too, have changed.

Who Needs Italy?

Allow me to let you in on a little secret – Istria. Or perhaps I shouldn’t do so in the event that it is overtaken by gawking tourists, as this place deserves a special kind of traveler. One who can appreciate fine wines. Good, strong olive oil. Homemade pasta with truffles. Fresh air and beautiful sunsets. Oh, did I mention that this is not a part of Italy – but of Croatia? But don’t let the Croatian map fool you as the village names are in Italian and Croatian and it’s much more fun to converse with your hosts in Italian. (Yes, it was once part of Italy). The old stone houses here are much below market price of what one finds in Tuscany, which may be why many British are supposedly buying up property. However, I think you might still just find that special little village, with old men sitting at dusk sipping espresso and colorful flowers adorning window sills. I did.

Wine oh Mine

Yes, I admit it...I can't have just one glass of Croatian wine. I have just met up with my old friend, Zlatan Plavac, which had been absent from my life for too long. But earlier this week, I met up with friends for dinner and the wine was flowing. I first came to know Zlatan Plavac in the beautiful city of Split. My good friend, Nenad, took me to his favorite fish restaurant and we sat outside, under the Croatian spring sun way back then enjoying that first bottle. I later discovered the island of Hvar, where the wine is grown and bottled. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still conjure up the smell of pine and lavender which envelops you as you walk the island. Today, I happily bought a bottle of the white label Zlatan Plavac at a little Zagreb vinoteka (wine shop)....how long can I wait to open it?

French elections and memories of ol'

Today is the final round of voting in the French Presidential elections. It seems that all of France is on pins and needles awaiting the outcome.

I’m walking through the streets of Zagreb on the way to meet an old friend for coffee, and can’t help but think back to what things were like here nearly a decade ago related to Croatia’s elections. Franjo Tudjman was in power, one of the architects of the Balkans war, intent on keeping power and portraying all opposition parties as “lackies” of the West. He was able to whip up xenophobic sentiment with a portion of the population – and the state-controlled media carried his divisive messages far and wide. Back then, some of us working in the political party sphere were decried as CIA spies and U.S. intelligence officers. It was an uphill battle for the six main opposition parties but they eventually prevailed. Or rather, the people of Croatia wanting a better life and embracing western values prevailed.

How far this tiny central European country has come since that time. It’s lesson in democracy worth remembering today as French voters go to the polls.

Zagreb -- ah, my homtetown

Well, I’m back in my “hometown” -- Zagreb, Croatia. Do you know how I know? Last week, just hours after arriving by plane from the U.S., the doorbell rings. Suddenly, a tall, older man with a clipboard has burst his way into my apartment demanding to know where the electricity meter is. Still reeling from the jetlag and not quite dressed, I dig deep into my memory of Croatian (after all, it’s been five years!) and inform him I do not have the key to open the box he is pointing to. Exasperated after nearly ten minutes of hilarious banter in English and broken Croatian, I push him out the door and collapse into a fit of laughter, remembering all the encounters with determined postal workers, electricity workers and various other state bureaucrats. You see, I am now able to pay my bills on-line in the U.S. and have forgotten about many long days here of queuing up at the post office.

Thus are some of the frustrations of living in a former socialist country. Old habits die hard. But, modernity has its drawbacks, I must admit, when today I am able to purchase fresh, domestic cheese at the open air market from a nice woman who insists I take home almost entire hunk for a mere 20 kuna (less than $4 US). Together with prsut (proscuitto), fresh tomatos, cucumbers and strawberries – all for the about the equivalent of $10 – I will have a lovely lunch. Ah yes, and there is also my bottle of Postup, a red wine given to me by my old driver, which will accompany me.

It’s quite nice to be back, I decide – and am glad some things will never change.