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All Aboard: Let's Go to Liguria

I've had a few questions via private message on Trip Advisor about how I planned my day trips in Liguria using Genoa (Genova) as my home base and I thought that others might benefit from my answers. Thus, this post.

To start, yes. I think Genova is an excellent home base for the region, all four provinces of Liguria (Genova, Imperia, La Spezia, Savona). Most of the places that tourists want to visit are along the coast and are well serviced by train, bus, boat, or some combination thereof, either from Genova or using other towns in the region as your starting point.

As a travel photographer, much of my day trip planning from any home base begins at my computer. Guidebooks, photo tomes, travel shows and mags or movies are a nice resource, but I find that simply spending some time online with Google Maps, Flickr, and other sites is a great source of information and discovery when it comes to deciding where I want to go. Beaten path destinations are easy enough to research, but it's the un- or lesser touristed towns that I'm more interested in identifying and visiting, and to find them I have to get a little more creative than Rick Steves' Europe and the like.

Using the method described above, I generally start on Google Maps at my home base (e.g., Genova) and surf down or around the map for interesting-sounding city names. I pick a city and look it up on Google Images and Flickr or elsewhere and if it looks like a place I might enjoy spending a few hours, I delve deeper, searching for train, bus, or boat schedules to determine if it's a feasible day trip.

This approach works for me, and works for pretty much anywhere you'd like to go and trip by day from. Especially in Europe where public transportation is generally pretty fantastic.

For Liguria specifically, I settled on the following towns as my day trip destinations from Genova: Alassio, Albenga, Albisola, Boccadasse, Bogliasco, Bonassola, Camogli, Campo Ligure, Celle Ligure, Cervo, Cinque Terre, Cogoleto, Finalborgo, Laiguelia, Lerici, Nervi, Noli, Pieve Ligure, Portofino, Portovenere, San Terenzo, Santa Margherita Ligure, Sarzana, Sestri Levante, Sori, Tellaro, and Varazze.

Once I had a list of places I wanted to visit, I organized them into manageable chunks. I listed them out in order of their distance from Genova and worked backwards with train, bus, and boat schedules to figure out how many I could reasonably and leisurely enjoy in a day. The furthest I was willing to travel was three hours, so I figured out which far-lying cities fit within that max, chose a few, and worked backwards. The daily plan was to go from Genova to the furthest point, and make stops along the route home. That makes the most sense to me because who wants to have a three-hour schlep home at the end of a long day when you're tired and just want to be in bed already?

After I'd sorted those details I looked at how many travel days I had total, and began cutting. The list of cities two paragraphs above comprises my final cut. In the end, I didn't make it to all because I fell wildly ill with a lovely cold on the second week of my two-week trip. But had I been healthy all 13 travel days, I likely would have made it to every stop on the list.

In the olden days before my iPod touch, I would use MS Word to type up all my custom travel details. These days, I create a document in Google Docs and access it on the fly - sans WiFi, even - with the gogo Docs app. Couldn't be more convenient. I also rely on my iPod touch to make changes to my plans on the fly by going online with Safari to check bus, train, and boat schedules (with WiFi access). Because I was staying at a B&B where WiFi was included, it was always available in the mornings or afternoons before I wanted to head out. It was perfect. Further, I could also make changes to my plans on the fly, on the fly (sans WiFi). For example, if I thought I might like to stay for a longer or shorter duration of time somewhere, I could simply pull out my iPod and take a quick pic of bus, train, or boat schedules and consult them as I needed. Awesome, right?

Screenshots from portions of my Genoa 2011 Google Docs custom guide:

With a little work (or a lot, in the end) I had a document that best prepared me to focus on enjoying the trip and not scrambling each day to figure out where I should begin, end, what the timing of transportation between towns was like, how many towns I could reasonably see in a day, etc. I did not, I repeat - I did (and do not) - plan my trip down to the minute. I just got the minutia out of the way so that I could get from A to B smoothly and get to enjoying B already before moving on to C, carefree. See? Much more enjoyable vacationing, that way. It's easy to get flustered in a foreign country and planning like this puts me at ease and minimizes that sort of stress.

I used the following sites and apps for this trip, both in pre-travel planning and in Genova:

il Borgo di Genova
I can't recommend this place highly enough. Alessandra and Giovanni are the best. And I don't say that lightly. They truly tops!

ATC La Spezia
Province of La Spezia bus information.

Commissione di Garanzia e Sciopero
Commission of Strikes.

Consorzio Marittimo Turistico 5 Terre
Golf of Poets and Cinque Terre boats.

Ferrovie dello Stato Italiane
Italian State Railways' official site.

Google Translate
Both the website and the iPod app.

Italy Strikes
One of several sources to track strikes.

Rail Europe
Gives some idea of schedules and prices, but not exhaustive.

Regione Liguria Transport Timetable
Bookmark this site. It will be your best friend in planning and on the once you're on the ground in Liguria. An invaluable source for train and bus timetables and options between all towns throughout the region of Liguria, in all four provinces (Genova, Imperia, La Spezia, Savona).

Strikes in Italy
One of several sources to track strikes.

Trenitalia
The Italian railway system's official site.

ViaggiaTreno
Another helpful Trenitalia site.

ViaMichelin
Better maps for Europe than Google.

An idea of ticket prices:

Bus tickets were from 1,50 to 3,00 each way from various towns. I took the bus from the train station at La Spezia to Lerici (and back), from Lerici to Tellaro, from Genova to Nervi, and from Sarzana to La Spezia (to the train station).

Corsa Semplice train tickets were 6,60 for 90km; 3,00 for 30 km; and 2,40 for 20km rides.

Genova Brignole to Camogli was 20km and 2,40 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Genova Brignole to Campo Ligure was 33km and 3,50 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Genova Brignole to Sori was 15km and 2,10 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Genova Brignole to La Spezia Centrale was 13,50 for a Classe 2 Eurostar seat.

Genova Brignole to La Spezia Central was 87km and 6,60 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Genova Brignole to Manarola (one of the Cinque Terre towns) was 79km and 6,00 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

La Spezia Centrale to Sarzana was 16km and 2,40 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Monterosso to Genova Brignole was 71km and 6,00 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Riomaggiore to Genova Brignole was 80 and also 6,00 for a Classe 2 treno ordinario seat.

Note that you have six - yes, 6 - hours from the time of validation (you must validate your train ticket before boarding the train, otherwise you face a fine if caught) to get from A (partenza) to B (arrivo) as printed on your ticket. If you plan well, you can see several towns on a single one-way train ticket, en route from A to B. This is where all that pre-travel planning can really pay off to save you precious time and money.

Do you have any questions for me? If not, how about a question for you: What are some of your favorite day trips from Genoa or elsewhere in Liguria by train, bus, or boat?

Get off the Couch [or the Computer] and Go!

Question: Why are some people happy to venture afar sans a fellow traveler in tow, while other would-be adventurers pass precious time at home (when they could be away) waiting for family, friends, or partners to find either the time, money, desire, or some combination thereof, to get out and about abroad?

Answer: Sheer fear. Of the unknown. Of potential loneliness. Of who knows what. I can't tell you the number of times a friend has said something like, "Oh, you're so brave to travel by yourself." Or, "I've always wanted to go to _______. But I don't like traveling alone and can't find anyone to go with me." And when I ask if they've ever actually tried solo travel, the answer is invariably, "No."

I can understand the hesitation. The idea of roaming alone used to freak me out, too. And I still can't cotton to the idea of things like remote solo hikes or driving across the country by my lonesome. Too many real life horror stories spring to mind! But anyway. It wasn't until a friend invited me along on a trip to Europe that I finally got to Europe. Had I not had someone to hold my hand on that maiden voyage, I may well still be sitting at home dreaming of gondola rides down the Grand Canal, staring up at the actual Eiffel Tower (rather than that half-pint knockoff in Vegas), partaking of bona fide French pastries - hot out of a French oven, in France, and a million other priceless, cherished experiences, nuanced and not.

Europe in particular - I can say having been now, many times alone - is a joy to navigate without crutches. I mean, travel companions. There's so much to see and do, whether for a fee or for free, getting bored is hardly an option. And though the big, looming-L (loneliness) is a constant possibility, it's not to be feared. Feeling lonely is just a natural facet of being, after all. It's a mood that can strike anyone, anywhere, and at any time. Whether one is actually alone or not.

How often have we felt lonely at a party or among friends and family or with a romantic partner? It happens. C'est la vie, from time to time. And we get through it somehow, don't we? So don't let something lame like the mere possibility of a little loneliness, so commonplace and insignificant - in the grand scheme of things - stop you from taking a trip by yourself. Plus, when you're traveling alone, it's nearly impossible to avoid striking up a conversation of some kind with strangers. You'll meet people. Really, you will. Unless you go out of your way not to interact with anyone, that is! And yes, you can meet people and have a conversation, even if all you speak is English. How do you suppose someone from say, China and someone from Portugal are going to communicate with each other, beyond gestures? Why in English, of course.

Whether it's asking for directions, shop hours, how to find the nearest metro, or any number of queries one might expect from an out-of-towner, you're going to have myriad opportunities to make a buddy. Even if it's just a temporary connection.

And speaking of connections, have you not seen Before Sunrise or Before Sunset? What about Bread and Tulips? Lost in Translation? L'Auberge Espagnole? Surely you got sucked into the Eat, Pray, Love blitz or were at least vaguely aware of the basic storyline.

Where ever it is you've always dreamed of going, chances are it's a trip that you can safely take alone (provided you use common sense). If the destination is a bit more daring, you may have to organize a spot with a tour group or take a class of some kind, but hey - instant travel companions, right? You have only to be open to a different kind of trip, when traveling alone. Take the plunge without expectations and just enjoy it. You never know who you might meet or the kind of time you may have. Essentially, if you have the means and the free time, it boils down to Nike and De Niro - Just do it (Nike). If you don't go, you'll never know (Robert De Niro). And that - not going, never knowing - would truly be a senseless tragedy.

8/24/2011: Celebrate senior solo travel! Solo travel sites and tips for the mature traveler

8/15/2011: 19 Indispensable Resources for Solo Travelers

What is holding you back from a solo adventure afar? If you used to be afraid or hesitant to travel alone, what finally got you to go? How did the trip turn out? For those who love solo travel as I do, what movies, books, blogs, or other media would you recommend to those who are still a bit timid when it comes to this kind of travel?

Fall into the Gap

The gap year, that is. The gap what, you say? Are you an American? That's probably the problem then. A sabbatical or gap year away from one's career is not uncommon in Australia or the UK (or elsewhere in Europe and perhaps Canada), but it's largely a completely foreign concept to the typical overworked and under-traveled American.

There's also the gap year after high school and before college that is commonplace in Europe, when kids travel to immerse themselves in another culture, explore specific interests, work, and/or volunteer. But that's not the year I'm talking about. I'm talking about walking away from one's career for a year. At least.

Though I don't like its touting of Elizabeth Gilbert's best-selling piece of BS (how nice to get a $200,000 advance to go and travel the world and write about it) - "Eat Pray Love" - I do like what Meet, Plan, Go is about - helping people make their gap-year dreams a reality.

I only just learned about the group, having stumbled upon a blurb announcing an upcoming event (for which I am now on the waiting list; guess I'm not the only American hankering for a career break). At any rate, hope the spirit of the gap year catches on Stateside. We Americans could definitely use a real vacation from our workaday lives - the three-day weekend a few times a year just doesn't cut it. Neither does a two-week trip, once in a blue moon!

While I wish it would transpire sooner rather than later, I'm just beginning to gear up for my gap year - five years in advance of when I'm aiming to take it. And, in truth, I'm hoping it'll extend well beyond a single year and transition into a new full-time "career" altogether.

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Meet, Plan, Go: Seeking to teach Americans about the benefits of extended travel via a gap year or career break. The group helps to motivate prospective travelers, help them build contacts and resources necessary to planning their year off, and get them on their way to making concrete steps forward toward a sabbatical.

Transitions Abroad: Portal for work abroad, study abroad, cultural travel overseas, and international living. While the site looks a tad janky, it's recommended or referenced all over the place. For instance, Yale. Ivy League approval says to me it's kosher and worth delving into without hesitation.

Interim Programs: The first - founded in 1980 - and longest-running gap-year counseling organization in the United States. The group has designed creative gap-year opportunities for thousands of people of all ages. It has an extensive database of program options.

Projects Abroad: The leading volunteer projects abroad organization, offering a diverse range of projects internationally. Promises that your experience will be far more worthwhile and genuine than that of the average tourist.

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8/23/2011: Career break travel myths - Lonely Planet

10/12/2010: Tips for making that dream trip - dropping everything to roam the globe for a year - a reality. From The New York Times' Practical Traveler.

15 Days

So many places to see, so little paid leave.

A certain day in December 2010 marks year three with my present employer. How do I know this? Because I've been counting down the days since the day I started to maxing out my paid-leave accrual - 15 days. Add on a paid personal day and a handful of paid holidays, and as it goes for working Americans, I actually have it pretty good. I take my time off seriously. Seriously! Though when I get instant messages from my European friends on one of their two (or even three!) three-week paid vacations, I must tell you. I feel pretty, well, not good about my pretty good American time off.

Why don't Americans have longer vacations?

Why, indeed.

How much annual paid leave do you get? How about unpaid leave? How much vacation time do you actually take off, at one time? Three days? One week? Two weeks? More? Is the amount of time you take at a go dependent on what you can afford or how long your company culture or official policy allows, no matter how much time you have banked?

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11/09/2010 - Oh, to be born a Brit.

NEW York

While my friends were at work, I played. And generally ran myself ragged walking, busing, and riding the rails all over Manhattan.

For New Yorkers it was hot, but not hot as hell. For me, it was blazing hip-hop R&B a little too loud at 80+ degrees Fahrenheit, and humid. I'm glad it didn't rain and wasn't 90F or hotter, but damn. I could have showered five times a day and still felt funky.

Even though it was blazing bullets, I still wanted to be out-and-about outside. So much so that I didn't even hit any of the many museums that I'd planned on visiting. That said, I did make a point to visit many a museum store.

Other than a few minor purchases at museum shops, I didn't buy much. A few pairs of fun $5 earrings (talk about a cheap thrill) and a cute little etching of the classic "I ♥ New York" sentiment scrawled on a t-shirt by an artist selling her limited edition prints on the street near the Museum of Modern Art. That and a bunch of swim gear; I want to join a masters swim team and had been having the darnedest time finding a brick-and-mortar sporting goods store at home. I rightly figured that if I could find a Speedo retailer anywhere, it'd be Manhattan. Praise the lord people still shop the old-fashioned way - in person - there.

Did I mention that it was hot? Had I not had my camera gear to worry about, I would have ditched my bag and ran a lap, too.

Once upon a time I was accepted to NYU and Columbia, went for a visit, and ultimately declined their generous offers. Occasionally I wonder if I made a mistake in choosing UCLA, but on each of my handful of visits to New York since I regret nothing anew. While New York is a vibrant and exciting city to be sure, I am not a traditional big city girl (yeah, L.A. is a big city, but it's very different in big city feel and layout from a Manhattan). Visits to the Big Apple are fantastic (especially when you have good friends there to visit), but I think living there would be too much for crunchy California me. That said, you couldn't pay me to live in Los Angeles again, but if you paid me enough you just might be able to coax me into the luxe life in New York. It'd have to be a really pretty penny though and I just don't see that ever happening. Good thing making mountains of money and living in New York isn't a priority in my life.

I don't do double-decker tour busing. But maybe I should reconsider. I bet people snap some pretty sweet photos from up there.

I meant to see a show, but it never came to pass. Next time.

This is the kind of pretty penny Big Apple posh that a girl could get used to. Looks like Paris, but without all the bloody bureaucracy. Delicious living, if you can afford it.

My favorite aspect of New York is by far the mix of old and new architecture. I love the majestic Old World look and feel of the city, but I'm also strangely taken with the imposing scope and scale of the city's many towering structures of glass and steel. The way they make one feel small and insignificant as you pass below is frightening and awe-inspiring, both. Even some of the old brownstones and other buildings with a European charm and flair appear so large as to make you feel a flea. Frightening-fantastic architecture. That's New York to me, in a proverbial nutshell. I don't think I could ever tire of gawking at the buildings and snapping my impressions.

Well, that's about it. I came, I saw, I snapped. I got a lot of sun and had a lot of fun. I hope to repeat the experience again, many times, in the years ahead. Thanks again to Alexis and Fatimah both, and happy 35 ladies! Glad we got to spend a few too short days together in this milestone year. Cheers.

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

Venice Revisited

Visit number five, to be exact.

Other than my very first trip to Venice, this is my second visit to the fabled city, with friends. Lovely, but very much different than seeing the city alone. No better, no worse. Just different. Less intimate, I think.

Being there with two first-timers allowed for a few first-time experiences for the tour guide, too. My first gondola ride was a highlight in that category, for sure. It's so smooth and, well - serene. Really. I know it sounds cliche, but it truly was. As you'd expect to experience it in a dream, not your unscripted and oft lackluster-letdown of a reality. We hired a gondolier off the main drag, in a backstreet canal near our Castello home base. And yes, we hired him mainly for his dashing good looks. Christian was his name, I think. The 40-minute glide through heaven ran us 80 Euros in total. Split between the three of us, it was quite the deal when you consider how idyllic the surroundings, how cute the captain, and how smoothly serene the ride itself.

By the end of the trip I'd pretty well worn both my friends and myself ragged with sight-seeing. All the Venice standards, plus lesser known churches, nooks, and many a canal-lined cranny. It was wonderful to wander the streets again, seeing how much I remembered and finding how easy it was to get lost. Still. But by far the favorite part of the trip was seeing my friends there and picking up a few new ones, meeting their kids and loved ones. It wasn't nearly enough time, but the time I had I am grateful for. And besides, I'll be back. I'll always be back.

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

Death Becomes Her by Marisa Allegra Williams | Make Your Own Book

State of the Union's Approach to Travel

A leisurely vacation overseas escapes the vast majority of American working dreamers. For most U.S. workers - lacking the time or the money, or both - traveling abroad essentially amounts to an unattainable or once in a lifetime (if they're lucky) luxury.

Having just returned from a quick four-day visit to Montreal, I was already lamenting having to wait a full calendar year to accrue the allotted 12 days of paid time off so that I could take something more akin to what I consider a real vacation. For me, if there isn't a trip on the horizon I'm just not a happy camper. So I put in for my time away next spring, this spring. That's how serious I am about taking time off. I was chatting about this with a friend in Paris and he mentioned to me that the new job he's considering offers―now would be the time to sit down and brace yourself before reading on―48 days of paid vacation. Um, yeah. I was floored, too.

I was reminded of that scene in Sicko where, "Sitting at a restaurant table with a bunch of American ex-pats in Paris, Moore is treated to a jaw-dropping recitation of the perks of social democracy: 30 days of vacation time, unlimited sick days, full child care, social workers who come to help new parents adjust to the strains and challenges of child-rearing." - Ezra Klein

In stark sobering contrast to what workaday Americans are guaranteed, in the way of paid time off in particular: "We guarantee zero. Absolutely none. That's why one out of 10 full-time American employees, and more than six out of 10 part-time employees, get no vacation. And even among workers with paid vacation benefits, the average number of days enjoyed is a mere 12. In other words, even those of us who are lucky enough to get some vacation typically receive just over a third of what the French are guaranteed." - Ezra Klein

Sigh. And a very heavy one, at that.

I'm now one of those Americans who enjoys "a mere 12" paid vacation days. After three years with the company that will increase to a whopping 15. If it weren't for the the fact that I love the company, the work, and the people, I couldn't commit to such a setup. Not unless there were the possibility of unpaid leave, which is what I enjoyed at my former place of employment.

Although, to quote Ezra Klein - "Very few individual workers in the United States can ask for four weeks of vacation. It is not only outside the benefits of their job but far outside the culture of our workplace. The incentives for most every individual, particularly if they want to keep their position and amass a reputation as a good employee, is to abide by those norms," I worked up the gall to ask my last employer for unlimited unpaid leave in addition to the standard two weeks (i.e., only 10 days) he outlined in the company benefits package. For some crazy reason, my request was deemed reasonable and I got my wish. It was fantastic. I even took it a step further when I opted for less monthly income in favor of a four-day work week.

That arrangement lasted for nearly six travelicious years before I decided it was time to move on and pursue my work as an artist more seriously, along with a career/day job that more closely matched personal passions; first and foremost, my love of travel. I consider myself exceptionally lucky to have found just such a place and position. Although I lost my lobby for unpaid leave in lieu of more fully-funded with my new employer, the fact that I enjoy my work counts immensely. Not many people―American or otherwise―can say that.

All that said, this still strikes me as shockingly medieval. This being where the U.S. ranks with the rest of the industrialized world in time paid to step away from the grindstone and catch up on some much needed R&R:

Kinda makes you want to scream and wish you'd been born a Brit or a Brazilian, right?

The reason it's so hard to get a vacation and so hard to enjoy one when you manage to squeeze part of one in is that the U.S. is the only country in the industrialized world without a minimum paid-leave law. As you can see from the chart [above], we've got a death grip on last place in the paid-leave standings. The first column details figures for statutory minimum annual leave and the right-hand column lists combined mandated leave with average additional time off by agreement with employers.

One of the most frequent remarks I'd encounter on my extended two, three, and four week trips abroad in the last five years is how atypical my length of leisure was for an American. Americans are often criticized for being an insular clan of overworked folks who take quick trips of five to seven days abroad and aim to squeeze in as much as possible within that tiny time frame. Going from Venice to Florence to Rome in the space of five or seven days doesn't sound like leisure to me; it sounds like stressful work. How can one possibly achieve a state of relaxation when so much time is spent traveling and sprinting about on the vacation itself? But given that "the average number of days enjoyed is a mere 12," what's a Yank to do? Spend the whole 12 on a single trip without saving time for family events or other piecemeal days off needed throughout the year? It's not like most companies allow a plethora of "personal days" or sick leave. That's right. For many Americans, sick time can often dip into vacation time because we're also lacking a logical allotment of paid sick leave.

It's kind of sad―though it's brought me unmeasurable pleasure, but I'm more and more thankful to be single and without dependents. Life is expensive these days and it's difficult to coordinate time off with friends, family, and partners. Especially when you're unwilling to take a five or seven day trip to somewhere 10 or more hours away by plane. I can't even imagine affording a real vacation, with kids. Let alone enjoying one! Not that it's not possible for those of us making less than $100,000 a year. I'm just saying that I can't imagine it.

In conclusion, I think that when one's government does not espouse or encourage a proper vacation by law, it is unarguably apparent that said government does not truly expect its people to be citizens of the world. Particularly puzzling when the nation in question is one of the richest in the Western World. The part that shouldn't come as a shock, then, is that in the United States, the vast majority of Americans can afford to be nothing other than what they are: untraveled people whose idea of a vacation is a three-day weekend (often spent working, from home!) It might also explain why Americans can be such ugly travelers, as they say. We don't get out much. Out of the country, that is. Our culture both in and outside of the workplace doesn't allow for much else (lack of support or mandate from the federal government; professional/social peer and personal pressure to work longer hours and to value material rewards rather than experiential rewards like vacations). Coupled with the ever increasing cost of living and the well-traveled American becomes the true overseas oddity. It's the truth, and it's a travesty.

Update: August 5, 2010 - Why don't Americans have longer vacations?

Sources:

• Land of the overworked and tired
  
• http://www.worktolive.info/poen_vaca_worl.cfm

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

Montreal notes from a broad

Cocoa Loco
It isn't often that one meets a brownie worth blogging about. But I encountered (and inhaled) just such a specimen on my quick introduction to Canada, via Montréal. Based on the photos and descriptions found in my Eat Shop Montreal, I made it a top priority to swing by Cocoa Locale. Come rain or shine. It ended up being a shockingly cold day, made all the more frigid by an icy and persistent precipitation. But I made it to Cocoa Locale in one wet piece, just before closing. My choices were an entire key lime pie or two slices of the much touted (per my pre-trip research) Valrhona spicy brownie. Being that it was my birthday weekend and I'd already had more sweets than was either healthy or warranted, I opted for the brownies in luau of the pie (Mais oui - that luau was for you, Jenny.) Oh man. Score. The taste, the texture. The spicy kick! Far more delicious than a brownie should be and gone before I was ready to stop savoring. You must go to Montréal and have one. You simply must.

Airport Encounters
As per usual, the airport proved the place to make the acquaintance of friendly strangers: A new mother and her happy daughter (the little girl of 6-months smiled so much that I smiled so much my cheeks cramped up!) on the way to Montréal; a Venezuelan mother taking the first plane trip of her life (well the second, technically, because she didn't arrive in Canada by osmosis) after visiting her grandchildren in Montréal, on her way back home via Toronto (where I met her). The new mom was Italian, born in Lucca, now living in Napa. Though she'd love to return to Europe sooner rather than later, her family and friends still in Italy assure her the best opportunities to be had remain Stateside. With so many people out of work and unable to afford homes (even those like her best friend, a lawyer), la vita isn't so dolce as it should be for many Italians (and Spaniards, and, and, and) per the move to the Euro, which has made the gap between rich and poor only the grander (or more grandiose). Just because the Euro is up and the Dollar down does not spell wealth and celebration for all those paid in the favored currency. On the contrary. People are struggling now as ever and perhaps even moreso. Unable to find work. Unable to afford property. And all the while the cost of basics like bread and milk and eggs rises. As for the mother from Venezuela, she attached herself to me immediately based first on the assumption that I must speak Spanish (Hablas español, sí? Pero usted es de México o de América Latina, sí? No? Negra? Qué?) and then out of sheer nueva-traveler fear and the fact that I can in fact speak Spanish. Kinda. Painfully poco though. Loco poco even (particularly after spending the last three months brushing up on the French I'd last studied as a student some 15 years ago; as for el español, it's been about 12 to 13 years). And her Venezuelan accent didn't help any. I may not be Mexican, but it is Mexican Spanish one learns in California schools (makes practical sense, sí?) So I think the misunderstanding went both ways. I can't think of an example to use, but on words I knew that I knew, her pronunciation was vastly different from the Spanish I'd been taught. Reminds me of learning Spanish at UCLA and my mother asking, "What the hell am I paying them to teach you?" Being a Spanish teacher herself (and shame on the woman for not raising me bilingually, or trilingually; she also teaches French) she didn't understand the benefit of one's learning Spanish in California with an Argentinian pronunciation or dialect. It's true it was pretty useless given the circumstances, but it was fun and I did learn basic Spanish, in the end (I also didn't continue on with that particular professor.) Anyway, back to my lost in translation experience at the Toronto airport. Every time I tried to think of the Spanish I'd deliver a French-Italian-Spanglish fiction that only made sense to me and caused my new friend's brow to crinkle in confusion. I'd try again and eventually put together something loosely reminiscent of the desired language in that it finally made the vaguest of sense, I think, because she'd relax a little and Sí a lot. I got her on the plane and to her connecting flight in the end, and that's all that matters. Sí?

Cafe Culture
I found the cafe life in Montréal to be among the friendliest and most open anywhere. Though I was only in town for three full days, I felt like a fixture in an old haunt from the moment I set foot in Olive + Gourmando. On my first visit to this most delightful of cafes, just down the street from where I was staying, I met a New Yorker who has a flat in Old Montréal. My little piece of Europe, she called it. Our conversation threaded from travel, to reality TV, to the cost of living and the growing gap between rich and poor, to the economy in general, to bankruptcy, to art, and back to travel. Nicest New Yorker I've ever met. On my second visit to the same cafe the next day I met a native of Montréal. We chatted. We watched the passersby and took note of the impeccably chic clientele who glided in and out of the posh boutique across the street. Before I left she gave me her cell number, a few city tips, and invited (and treated) me to coffee (I had a hot chocolate, actually) the morning of my birthday at Cafe Olympico (another cafe with a very friendly, all-in-the-family feel) in Mile End. How nice was that?

Bilingual Bliss
Well before coming to Québec, I'd cooked up a romantic notion of it based on nothing more than the knowledge that both French and English are spoken here. Being something of a rudimentary Francophile, not nearly fluent in the language, there is a certain coolness and comfort factor in knowing that one can use either language and likely be understood (rather than laughed at, the way one's less than commanding grasp of French can sometimes be received in the environs of say, Paris.) My imagined Montréal did not disappoint, in this regard. It was wonderful. I'd been brushing up on my French for a month or three and it proved to be worth the effort. I could read signs and menus and descriptions of things with little difficulty. When people spoke to me directly I think I fared alright. But eavesdropping on conversations of two or more people proved fruitless. I blame the Québécois accent and dialect. Not the French one leans in school, but we'll come to that later. The Montréalaise woman I met at Olive + Gourmando who treated me to a birthday hot chocolate seemed to mirror my sentiment about the uniquely Franglais culture one finds only in Québec. She spent some time living in London and noted that, "I really missed the French." A marvelous Montréalais man I had the pleasure of talking with explained that, "Québec is a separate country, whether it is officially recognized or not." He pointed to the language for support; "How can you claim to know a place if you don't speak the language? I am modest enough to say that while I know something of English-speaking Canada, I do not know it. My English is okay, but it is not my first language." He makes a good point. Even if one knows or speaks some French, unless one also knows Québécois specifically, one can never truly know Québec.

Fun with Québécois
I studied up on my French, when I should have been learning to Speak Québec! I had no idea there are so many distinct and nuanced differences in everything from pronunciation to structure. I suppose I should have guessed as much; judging from how English is or can sound worlds apart within the U.S. itself or as compared to the various dialects of Mother England, Australia, etc.) Oh well. When I go back I'll have a native phrase or two to kick around like a local. Learning beaucoup from my souvenir copy of Speak Québec! by Daniel Kraus. If you can't find one at home, there'll be plenty for sale au Canada. It's a great little livre and one of the only English-Québécois (as opposed to French-Québécois) resources out there.

A few of my favorite entries:

• An?- The Québécois equivalent of, Huh?
• Atchoumer - To sneeze. From the onomatopoeia, "Atchoo!"
• Avoir un face de boeuf - To be in a bad mood. Literally, to have a face of beef.
• Avoir les baguettes en l'air - To gesticulate wildly.
• Avoir juste le cul et les dents - 1. To have no personality. 2. To be extremely thin. Literally, to have just an ass and teeth.
• Avoir le feu au cul - A rude expression meaning, to be furious. Literally, to have fire in one's ass.
• Avoir du fun - To have fun, to have a good time.
  
• Avoir vu neiger - To have experience. Literally, to have seen it snow before.
• Baptême! - Shit! Literally, Baptism.
  
• Chat sauvage - Chat is cat. Chat sauvage is raccoon. What a great way to describe a raccoon.
• Être game - To be game, to be willing.
  
• Faker - To fake, to pretend.
• Flusher - To purge, to flush, to dump. Ils sortent plus ensemble, elle l'a flushé il ya a trois mois. They're not going out anymore, she dumped him three months ago.
• Il n'y a pas de trouble! - No problem!
• Kodak - Camera.
  
• Kossé? - What is it? A condensation or deformation of the French, "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
• Oreilles de Christ - Fried pig ears.
• Parlure - Slang.
• Péter de la broue - To brag about one's abilities. Literally, to fart suds.
• Pis - 1. And, next 2. "So?" 3. "What's new?" Pis toi? And you? Et pis? And so?
• Quessé? - Another form of "What is it?" from the French, "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
• Questa? - What do you have? What's wrong? From the French, "Qu'est-ce que tu as?"
• Shafter - To give someone the shaft.
• Swinger - Nope. Not the noun. A verb. To party, to dance, to have a good time.
• Tiguidou - Okey-dokey.
• Tourlou - Toodleoo. Used as "goodbye".
  
• Trippant(e) - Impressive, amazing.
  
• Tripper - To dig something, to find something cool, to really like something.
• Zozo - Idiotic, foolish.
  

Snow Pants
Is that a dog? No. OMG. It's a cat! I met a girl walking her cat on a little harness and a leash. The cat was stopping every few feet to window shop. Yes, to window shop. A long-haired orange beauty, "Mooshe" looked like a lion up close. A lion with snow pants. His fur was so long that it swayed and billowed in the breeze like a pair of pants one might sport in the dead of a snowy winter. Much like the snowy winter he was plodding through right then, on the streets of Montréal. His owner kindly gave me directions to the street I was seeking and she swooped him up and began to carry him. "He gets tired of walking sometimes. Especially today. We've been walking for nearly two hours." "How'd you train him to walk on a leash," I wondered aloud. "It's easy if you train them from when they're kittens. I've done it several times before." I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it firsthand. And unfortunately you'll just have to take my word for it since I didn't snap a picture. Anyhow, something to remember for when and if I ever find myself on the market for kittens.

A special merci to Liz for turning me on to the term, snow pants. Parfait man. Parfait.

Mall Mania
Montréal boasts an underground city spanning some 19 miles of passageways with 11 subways, 2 railway stations, over 10,000 parking spaces, 37 movie theaters, and 18,000 businesses. Over 500,000 people traverse this subterranean city beneath the city each day. I don't know exactly how many malls they've got down there, but I can say that it's a whole bunch of them and that on a Saturday afternoon when it's raining ice outside, the mall situation below is absolute mayhem. I browsed a bookstore at street-level, exited the same store two floors down, and wandered through three distinct malls before deciding I was completely lost and that there were far too many people to enjoy myself. The first Metro sign I saw I bolted and made my way out of Hades shopping hell. It's a nice idea, but not my idea of fun. Something to see on your first trip to Montréal though. I'd never seen anything like it before (and hope never to see, again.)

L'Architecture
If the dollar continues to dip and you find yourself craving a trip to Paris for the cafe culture, la langue, or l'architecture, hop on a plane to Montréal instead. Or Québec City. I'm told that Québec City's old town is far larger than that of Montréal with architecture that is even more quaint and charming and French-European. Québec City is also said to be more conservative and traditionally French. Many people there do not speak any English.

Airport Security and Other Jokes that Aren't Amusing
Why is it so difficult to uphold consistent security rules from airport to airport, or even in a single airport? I flew from San Francisco to Toronto with the same stupid little ladies' Coach pocketknife key chain that I've had on my keys for years. Meaning, it's flown with me to Hawaii, Los Angeles, and Europe multiple times post-9/11 without ever having been confiscated. Truth be told, I didn't even know there was a legitimate blade on the damn thing. When the security person at Toronto showed it to me, I was genuinely shocked, but pointed out that one would be hard-pressed to do any real cutting with the pathetic-looking thing. Scissors and nail file in the event of an emergency is all I'd ever used it for. It was a gift. Would I like to check it for C$7 or lose it? I'm going to miss my flight. Happy birthday. It's my birthday, but keep it. It's yours now lady. The two gentlemen behind me weren't quite so curt with their security situation. A special lighter that they'd specifically been told could be brought on the plane no more than 10 seconds earlier by another security type was now an issue. "You should have checked with the rest of your baggage, sir. I don't care what that woman told you. She's wrong. Check it for C$7 or lose it. Your choice." Being that they were also about to miss their connecting flight, they opted for a loss. But not after losing it with the security guard pretty heatedly (though briefly), first.

Sí, nevando.
On the way home, waiting for my flight from Montréal to Toronto, it started snowing pretty convincingly. "Nevando?" I asked my friend from Venezuela. "Sí, nevando." I don't know how I remembered the Spanish for that. Thought it was one of my muddled, made-up words.

Extreme Passenger
I don't know the how's and why's of it, but I'm continually blessed with making the acquaintance of nice (if not plain interesting) folks when I fly. The flight home didn't pan out any different. Though this was certainly one of the more interesting people I've met on a plane. Extremely interesting. A fellow "mutt" (with a far more interesting mix; thought his last name was Portuguese but he said no, Spanish-East Indian and that his roots are a melange of French-Egyptian, Spanish-East Indian, Caribbean-Canadian, and who knows what all else) and self-proclaimed "extreme traveler", the man in the middle (I had the window) had gone sky-diving, bungie-jumping, mountain-climbing; you name it. Next on his list? Swimming with sharks and night-diving. No joke. He was dead serious. Anything sporty and dangerous, he's all about it. Sharks or scuba-diving in the dark. Hmmm. I can't decide which is more terrifying or insane, or both. What a nice guy though. Offered to show me around Toronto if I ever get out there for a visit. Total sweetheart. Assuming he hasn't had an extreme accident of some kind (which wouldn't be a shocker), I look forward to the (terror-free) tour.

On est Back
In Québécois, rather than using the typical French nous form for we, the on form is used with verbs and conjugations. Thus, "On est Back" rather than "Nous sommes Back". The use of the English word "back" is très Québécois. According to my copy of Speak Québec!, English words are folded in with the French to enhance an idea or to express an extreme. And now, I leave you with some Québécois hip-hop. Note, I didn't say it was good. But it's what's popular at the moment, unfortunately. Perhaps when je suis (pronounced "chwee" in Québécois) back one day, something a little more flavorable will be in fashion.

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

When in ...

A trip to Venice is not complete without a visit to Alberto Valese's shop. Alberto makes beautiful marbled papers and books. All by hand.

When in Rome. Though I've not been there, yet. But you know. That sort of thing. Was just reminiscing about the highlights of trips past and thought I'd put together a broad list of things missed (as in looking forward to seeing or doing, again.) And, therefore, things not to be missed. Anywho, check back periodically. I'll try to keep this little collection of lists up to date as I discover new things one must endeavor to experience when in where ever. I've even included some Stateside favorites.

When in Amsterdam

• Day trip by train to Haarlem
• Day trip by bus to Keukenhof Gardens

When in Barcelona

• Get lost in the Barri Gotic
• Eat lots of hot chocolate (too thick to drink)
• Day trip by train to the beach town of Sitges
• Day trip by train to the town of Girona on the Riu Onyar
• Food to go from Farga
  
• Picnic at Parc Guell
• Watch the sunset from the roof of Casa Mila (aka La Pedrera, same thing)
• Watch whatever's playing at the Coliseum Cinema

When in Berkeley

• Go gourmet with your glace, Ici
• Go cocoa-loco at Bittersweet, The Chocolate Cafe
• Enjoy an order of the best crispy chicken tacos on the planet at Cactus Taqueria
  

When in Budapest

• Enjoy the Fisherman's Bastion and surrounding Buda Castle Hill sites at sunrise, before the shops open and the bus loads of tourists arrive to alter the ambiance
• Have a piece of paradise at Ruszwurm while you're up on Castle Hill in Buda
  
• Return at sunset for the view of Pest
• Lounge for hours in the baths at Gellert
• Day or night, gawk at the grandeur of Heroes Square
  
• Sit for a bit in the Great Synagogue on Dohany Street
• Ogle the door at St. Stephen's Basilica
• Wander around and ogle the architecture

When in Dubrovnik

• Explore the old town at sunrise (it will be all yours) and again at sunset (when you'll have to share)
• Day trip by bus to Cavtat
• Day trip by bus to Korcula
• Day trip by bus to The Bay of Kotor and the town of Kotor in Montenegro
• Eat lots of dried figs
• Eat lots of pastries from Niko
  

When in Liguria, on the Italian Riviera

• Day trip by train to Camogli
• Day trip by train to each of the Cinque Terre
• Day trip by train to Santa Margherita
• Day trip by train to Sestri Levante
• Day trip by train and bus to Portofino
• Day trip by train and bus to Portovenere
• Far a whole lot of niente

When in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu

• Rent a car and get as far away from Honolulu-Waikiki as possible
• Hope for a slice (or two) of homemade Okinawan (which is to say, purple) sweet potato pie with fresh haupia from The Food Company in Kailua
• Lounge on Lanikai Beach
• Eat a pineapple burger at Kua'Aina Sandwich in Haleiwa
• Enjoy the big sand, sun, and fun of Waimea Bay
• Head for the hills and escape everything at the Mu-ryang-sa Korean temple

When in Montreal

• While away the hours at Olive + Gourmando (351 Rue Saint-Paul Ouest)
• Dessert from Cocoa Locale (4807 Avenue du Parc)
• Or from Les Glaceurs (453 Rue Saint-Sulpice)
• Book-browsing (or buying, if you're up for a supreme splurge) at Librissime (62 Rue Saint-Paul Ouest)
• Pick a church or two to sample in addition to a requisite visit to the Basilique Notre-Dame. Lots of lovely churches, if I do say so myself. And I've not a(n organized) religious bone in my body.

When in Paris

• Wander around with your spiral bound copy of Michelin Paris Par Arrondissements and a keen sense of curiosity and adventure
• Skip the Louvre (or go on a Wednesday or Friday night after 6PM when it stays open until 10PM, the crowds have thinned, and it costs less, to boot) and go straight for a hot chocolate with Chantilly at Angelina's
• Walk it off in the Tuileries
• Catch a sunrise at La Tour Eiffel (tout seul) and then, later, share a sunset with the hordes
• Repeat with Sacre Coeur
• And again with the Place des Vosges
  
• Have plenty of pastries from Paul
• Macaroons and tarts from Laduree
• Lots of L'As du Fallafel (34 Rue des Rossiers, Paris, 75004)
• Beaucoup de glace from Berthillon
• Hot and sweet mint tea at the Grande Mosquée de Paris and a meal fit for a sultan, inside
  
• And of course, shop til you drop
  

When in San Francisco

• Pretend you're in Paris and get yourself over to la pâtisserie Miette, and/or one of Bay Bread's little Paris-parfaît Boulangeries
  

When in Sorrento

• Eat lots of gelato from Primavera (on the Corso Italia) or Davide
• Drink in the sunset with a glass of something special at Hotel Bellevue Syrene
• Day trip by train to Ercolano (Herculaneum)
• Day trip by ferry to the island of Procida
• Day trip by ferry to the island of Capri
• Indulge in the moist chocolate magnificence of a torta caprese and a warm, handmade waffle cone with icy fresh gelato from Raffaele Buonacore (Via Vittorio Emanuele 35, Capri)
  
• Visit the Blue Grotto
• Visit the Villa San Michele
  
• Day trip by train to Naples (and keep a close eye and a firm grip on your valuables)
• Visit the cloister of Santa Chiara in Naples
• Day trip by bus or boat to Positano
• Day trip by bus or boat to Amalfi
• Visit the crypt of the Basilica Sant' Andrea and lounge on the steps
  
• Day trip by bus to Ravello
• Visit the Villa Cimbrone

When in Venice

• Item number one, get lost
• Ponder the leaning tower of San Pietro di Castello
• Ponder the leaning tower of San Giorgio dei Greci and the golden interior of its church
  
• Sunrise in St. Mark's Square and sunset there too, at Caffe Florian or elsewhere on the Piazza San Marco
• Sunset with a picnic on the steps of the church at San Giorgio Maggiore
• Sit for a bit and contemplate the largest oil painting in the world in the Doge's Palace
• Savor several flavors from Gelateria Nico
• Ginger gelato and other unique mouth-watering choices from Alaska
• Keep your eyes peeled at all times for shops carrying uniquely delicious genius of glass designer Barbara Proverbio
  
• Drinks and dinner at Centrale
  
• Paper/goods from Alberto Valese
  
• Paper/goods from Paolo Olbi
• Acqua tint etchings from Cadore
• Chocolates to die for from Vizio Virtù
• View from the campanile of San Giorgio Maggiore
• View from the campanile of San Marco
• Day trip by train to Padua (Padova)
• Day trip by train to Vicenza
• Day trip by train to Verona
• Day trip by train to Bassano del Grappa
• Day trip by train to Bologna
• Day trip by water bus to the island of Burano
  
• Day trip by train to Treviso

When in Vienna

• Spend endless hours, rain or shine, at the bistro-cafe Le Bol (Neuer Markt 14)

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

Oahu notes from a broad

The first time I ventured to Hawaii (to the island of Oahu), I was lucky enough to stay with an old friend who'd just moved there from The Mainland, as locals call that big continental bit of the United States, just over yonder across the Pacific. Since that first visit over 10 years ago, I've been back many times and have also explored a couple other islands in the chain. But my first is still my favorite, despite its also being the most populated and touristed. Thankfully, I know how and where to escape the droves. In order to do that, wheels are essential. Which reminds me again of my first trip (to Oahu) and of the instant illiteracy I felt as I tried to navigate streets with names like:

Kapukawai Street (Waipahu): Handsome
Kupu'eu Place (Waipahu): Hero, wondrous one
Lakimau Street (Diamond Head): Always lucky
Lakoloa Place (Kalihi): Very rich, prosperous
Lalawai Drive ('Aiea): Successful, well-to-do
Pahukula Place (Kuli'ou'ou): Chest of gold
'Apake'e Street (Wai'anae): Deceitful
Kahekili Highway (Kane'ohe): Thunder
Kaie'e Street ('Ewa Beach): Tidal wave
Kalapu Street ('Ewa Beach): Ghost
Ka'onawai Place (Manoa): The liquid intoxicant
Nakiu Place (McCully): The spies
Na'opala Lane (Kalihi): Rubbish
'Aikanaka Place/Road ('Ewa Beach): To eat human flesh
'Ilipilo Street (Kailua): Smelly skin
Kauhako Street/Place (Hawai'i Kai): The dragged large intestines
Mo'omuku Place (Kuli'ou'ou): Mutilated lizard
Lumi'au'au Street (Waipahu): Bathroom
Helekula Way/Place (Wai'anae): To go to school
Ki'ona'ole Road (Kane'ohe): Without dung heaps
Komai'a Drive (Manoa): Dragging bananas
Ki'i'oni'oni Loop/Place (Wai'alae): Motion pictures, movies
Wai'aka Place (McCully): Laughing water
'Ano'ilei Place (Hau'ula): Cherished, sweetheart
Hanakealoha Place (Palolo Valley): Love-making
Ho'oha'i Street/Place (Pearl City): To flirt
Pa'ale'a Street (Palolo Valley): Pleasure-loving
Poli'ala Street (Waimanalo): Fragrant breast
'Eu Lane (Kalihi): Rascal
Lukini Place ('Ewa Beach): Perfume
Kani'ahe Street/Place (Wahiawa): To giggle or laugh softly
Wela Street/Lane (Kaimuki): Lust, passion
Kuewa Drive (Waialua): Wanderer, homeless
Nalulu Place (Wai'alae 'Iki): A dull headache
Meahala Street (Waipahu): Sinner
Hepa Street (Waipahu): Idiot, imbecile, moron
Kahalewai Place (Hale'iwa): Prison, jail
Pokapahu Place (Diamond Head): Bursting bullet
'Onaha Street (Kahala): Bow-legged
Kalena Street (Wahiawa): The lazy one
Ma'ipalaoa Road (Wai'anae): Whale genitals
'Iole Street/Place (Kane'ohe): Hawaiian rat
Ka'uku Place (Hawai'i Kai): Louse
Kaluamo'o Street (Kailua): Lizard pit
Ke Ala Mano Street (Kalihi Valley): Shark's road
Miula Street ('Ewa Beach): Mule
Popoi'a Road (Kailua): Fish rot

Source

Granted, of course, I didn't know the meanings of such street names. Not that it would have helped me find my way any better. I don't know what I was expecting on that first trip, other than for Hawaii to be an even more Americanized, Disney version of its former or true self. So though confused, I was pleasantly surprised by something so simple as the plethora of Hawaiian street names, in Hawaiian. Hawaii, at present, can still be a very watered down take on its authentic past, but there are pockets of authenticity (both things modern and things throwback). An attempt is being made to reclaim what was lost and remake history into something relevant for today. Reclaiming the language is a first step. And I'm happy to report that my friend's children are learning the mother tongue of their island home. Very cool. It's such a beautiful language. Both written and spoken. Once you get the basics down, even a mainlander like me can learn to read the street signs at a good clip and get from point A to point B without any difficulty!

But enough about street names and navigation. Let's talk beaches. They're all different and unique and for me anyway, they do not blend into a single strip of sun and sand. I've surveyed strips from Kauai, Oahu, and Maui and have a list of clearly defined favorites. But at the top of my list is Lanikai, the chain's most honored beach; it's won Best Beach awards for years (and years).

On this last trip, I was out one postcard-perfect afternoon, snapping photos of the twin Mokulua Islands. A woman came up and stood next to me. "Beautiful day, isn't it? Perfect day." I agreed with her and we struck up a little conversation. She was from Germany, on vacation with her husband who was back at their hotel taking a nap. Typical of Germans, she and her husband were exceptionally well traveled. She rattled off for me, as proof, all of the beach-ladened countries that they'd visited over the years. So, when she told me that Lanikai was "by far" the most beautiful and "perfect" beach in the world, I didn't question her. Though I hadn't seen nearly as many beaches with which to compare it, I agreed wholeheartedly. "Some beaches have nice scenery to look out on, but the sand is too big. Other beaches have powder fine sand and nothing to gaze at. Others have both perfect sand and scenery, but the water isn't clear or the waves are too rough or it's too cold. Lanikai has everything. Everything about it is perfect. The sand, the scenery, crystal clear water that is as calm as a lake. Perfect. Don't bother traveling the world in search of the perfect beach. Trust me. You've already found it."

Lucky me. (And lucky you! Now you know where to find the world's best beach, too.)

Questions? Ask away! Please use the comments feature to ask questions rather than contacting Marisa directly. That way everyone can learn a thing or two, too.

The Beach Beckons by Marisa Allegra Williams | Make Your Own Book