Back before things got so messy worldwide, I took a little trip to see my good friends Jeff and Tori and their wonderful family. Friends from Seoul, they left Korea with one kiddo and not four years later are now a family of five! Life has become quite a dance!
We chilled, caught a few sunsets, and even got a minute to watch Parasite (Go SoKo!). Tori, her mom, and I even popped down to Phuket Town for a little getaway.
I hadn’t heard a lot about Phuket Town before I arrived. I had chosen our hotel fairly last minute and figured it would be a nice change of pace to be able to walk and wonder in town.
The first thing I noticed was the facade of the buildings. The majority of the structures were two stories high, featuring a storefront on the ground level and a living space above.
The shutters, columns, and corrugated roofs seemed reminiscent of Hanoi to me, a fusion of Asian and European. Turns out, it’s an architectural style all it’s own called Sino-Portuguese.
As history goes, the Portuguese came to Phuket in the 1500s. Phuket became a booming trade capital, with tin as its major export. Rubber followed shortly thereafter. As they set up shop, the Portuguese hired Chinese workers to build their port town. The result was the style which is still present today, also known as Chinese Baroque.
Our hotel turned out to be the most beautiful gem of all. The Woo Gallery & Boutique Hotel makes it feel like you are sleeping in an art gallery. Essentially, we were, as the front of the building boasts an in-home museum full of trinkets collected by the owner’s father-in-law. The home has been in their family for three generations, with their ancestors coming from China to make their fortunes in the mining industry.
When the present owners took the space back from renters, they undertook a multi-year renovation from top to bottom. The female proprietor designed every aspect of the space herself, researching historic tiles, woods, and glass to bring to life the glorious vision you see today.
Collections of pottery and artifacts from far reaching cities like Penang, Singapore, Shanghai, and Delhi enrich the space, adding to it’s unique ambiance. We were lucky enough to have a private tour of the rooms and collections. All three of us left awestruck and inspired.
I spent the last few nights at a B&B run by a Finnish couple, close to Jeff & Tori’s place. Night swimming beneath the palm trees was magical and I tried to soak it in, knowing that this might be my last opportunity to travel for a while.
On my last night in town, Tori and the kids took me to a restaurant run by a friend of theirs called Artisan. Another gem, it was the perfect send-off from Thailand, capped off by time hanging out with Garvey under the lanterns. Thailand is truly a special place made infinitely more wonderful by dear friends.
When my parents and I first decided to meet up in Europe over my fall break, they asked me what country would be best. I didn’t hesitate to recommend Portugal, what with its seafood, wine, and friendly residents. With Lisbon a direct flight from both Moscow and Boston, I knew it would suit us just fine. My only request was that our good friends Charlie and Deb join as well. They were game and we started planning.
Between 1400-1600, Portugal underwent an “Age of Discovery”. Prosperous and seafaring, the country sent sailing fleets to all corners of the globe, captained by household names such as Ferdinand Magellan and Vasco da Gama. “By 1560, Portugal’s global empire had peaked. Tiny-but-filthy-rich Portugal claimed (though they didn’t actually occupy) the entire coastline of Africa, Arabia, India, the Philippines, and south China – a continuous stretch from Lisbon to Macao – plus Brazil.” This practice of international exploration yielded exotic spices, agricultural practice, and (horrendously) the beginnings of the slave trade.
Though I’d spent a few days in Lisbon in 2017, I’d missed the chance to go north to Porto, a city that has elicited only smiles and good words from friends and fellow travelers. We decided to start our journey there.
The city of bridges, as it as known, Porto lies at the mouth of a river which runs over a mountain range and into the Douro Valley (the valley of gold), the fertile bed of the port wine industry. Taylor, Calem, and Ferreira all have lodges along the river. With a recommendation from a good friend, we made our way to Graham’s.
Graham’s Port Lodge
Featuring gorgeous hilltop view at the city across the river, Graham’s proved a great starting point in our quest to learn about the history of port. We toured it’s cellars featuring a library of vintage wines (the only wine that can appreciate with age!), some of which were over 150 years old. The atmosphere was perfect and we enjoyed a walk down to the waterfront after our port flight.
São Bento Railway Station
You will seriously earn your steps on the streets of Porto. Staying higher atop the hill, I tried to devise a winding walk that featured mostly downhills. Our first stop was the Sao Bento Railway Station which features over 20,000 hand-painted tiles. The stained glass was gorgeous, too.
Livraria Lello Bookshop
I could not visit Porto without seeing the bookshop which had inspired Hogwarts. Author JK Rowling taught ESL in Porto from 1991-1993 and often stopped into this bookshop. From the art nouveau staircase and dark wood finishes, it is not hard to picture sliding staircases and talking portraits. Neither the lines nor the masses could detract from the magic inside.
On the Water
With a group of five, moving from place to place could be a bit of a challenge. We opted for a hop-on/hop-off bus tour which took us to the outskirts of town. As we drove along the water, we let our stomachs choose our next stop – a fishing hamlet with river views. Fresh cod, hake, and salmon were on offer and paired with cabbage and potatoes made for our most delicious meal yet. The atmosphere came replete with a Portuguese mother directing all the action from the window above. We joked that our meal was probably still swimming that morning and I suspect we were right.
Charlie and Deb had read up on the Ribeira, an area down on the riverbank. Once a dodgy area, the neighborhood is now a fantastic spot for restaurants and music. We opted for a boat ride under the famous Porto bridges but I could easily see returning to Ribeira the next time I’m in town.
I could have called this post “Stairs, stairs, and more stairs” or “Just 10 more minutes walking”. Though we didn’t plan this stop well on our walk down to the riverfront, I would recommend the Cathedral for it’s beautiful tiles and gilded alters. Beautiful views over the city made the climb worth it.
A quick and easy 3-hour train ride found us back in Lisbon, the City of Light. Unlike it’s French counterpart of the same nickname, Lisbon is bathed in golden light after dark, in gorgeous contrast to a typical blue velvet night sky. I had a few nights to myself on either end of the trip and I’ll say at no point did I feel unsafe taking in the streets after dark.
I spent my first two nights in the charmingly local neighborhood of Lapa. I’m told it’s a hub for Lisbon intellectuals – artists and writers abound. If you’re seeking an actual oasis just beyond the street, look no further than this supremely charming garden and private backyard suite. Two of the nicest hosts I’ve stayed with, to boot.
We certainly earned our steps back in Lisbon as well. One of our major treks included a very early bird dinner at Ramiro, a seafood house made famous by Anthony Bourdain during a visit back in 2012. This place surely did not disappoint with crab, shrimp, and clams as tasty as I’ve ever experienced on the shores of Maine and Cape Cod.
Ascensor do Lavra & Jardim do Torel
Lisbon is known for it’s funiculars (ascensor) and we took a lesser known one to the Jardim do Torel lookout. With 270 degree views of the whole city, it was a perfectly quiet spot to watch the sun go down behind one of Lisbon’s many hills. The graffitied cable car was a charming way to travel.
Jerónimos Monastery, Belem
Our last day found us in Belem, a small town just down the river from Lisbon. The monastery was well worth the 10 euro entrance fee and left us marveling at the architectural flare throughout. We enjoyed pasteis de nata in the park and took the slow boat back to Lisbon, which was a perfect choice.
Largo do Carmo & Bellalisa Elevador
Deb had the idea to return to a square we had spied the night before called Largo do Carmo. With quaint tables and umbrellas, we enjoyed our drinks next to the ruins of a convent. There is a famous elevator in Lisbon which has lines for days (literally) but with a little help from a guide, we realized that the Bellalisa Elevador Restaurant would make a perfect spot to cap off our trip together. The drinks were flowing and seafood was top notch. Before we knew it, it was time for the crew to fly back to Boston.
On recommendation from a train seat mate, I spent my last day in Lisbon visiting the Gulbenkian Museum. Soaking up the sunshine in the museum’s gardens and the Turkish artwork inside proved the perfect send-off. I look forward to my chance to return again and will look back at this special trip with fond memories.
We’re a month into school and autumn has officially arrived in Moscow. This week we could see our breath at tennis practice! It’s been a whirlwind getting up to speed, teaching five different classes and getting to know the IB Visual Arts program but I’m loving it. So when my friend suggested a long weekend meet up in Dubai, I jumped for it!
Having never been to the United Arab Emirates (of which there are 7 “states”), I didn’t know what to expect. I knew of the Burj Khalifa (highest building in the world, a smidge of it visible above right). I knew the cities had gone up very quickly, fueled by oil money. I knew there was a monarchy and I also knew there was a mall with an indoor ski slope. Otherwise – no real idea of what I was jumping into.
Turns out all of those facts were true, including the ski slope. Malls and shopping are a big part of life in the UAE. Dubai has two large ones, the Dubai Mall (replete with an ice rink and aquarium) and the Mall of the Emirates (ski slope land). My friend Emmalee had told me that if you were looking for a western store chain, it was most likely available in Dubai. We proved this logic true by having brunch at IHOP on our first morning there.
Living in Russia, which does not have access to many western brands, makes you oddly nostalgic for the comforts of home. Despite the fact that I would pretty much never choose to spend time at a mall when I’m in the States, we whittled away a few hours shopping for gifts and enjoying the sights, such as the huge aquarium below.
The ice rink was hosting a number of birthday parties – made evident by the shrieks of delight as we passed. When it’s 102F outside in September, an afternoon at the rink seems a surreal experience.
As Emmalee had flown in from Saudi Arabia, she brought with her a pair of abayas for us to wear when visiting the Grand Mosque. As a foreigner in Saudi, she wears the abaya whenever she’s not on the school compound on which she lives and works (an island that is 3 miles x 3 miles). Her she is modeling the more stylish of the two options. I myself had the chance to wear the simple black one that her husband affectionately calls “the flying squirrel”. It is as attractive as it sounds.
Given our limited time and our want to catch up rather than stressing about plans, we booked two small group excursions via Viator – a “desert dinner” (common in the Middle East) and a visit to Abu Dhabi, the neighboring emirate to Dubai. The desert dinner was a 7 hour event, including pick up at our hotel, transport to the dunes near the Oman border, and “dune bashing”, an activity that involved riding in an SUV with a steel reinforced frame up, over, and down the massive dunes in a national park. Much like on the Cape, our driver let some air out of the tires at the highway’s edge and we met up with a convoy of 18 cars, all on the same tour as us. Here’s Emm below modeling the latest in Middle East explorer chic (ie. covered shoulders and knees, light airy attire). No abayas or coverage required in Dubai.
The dunes were absolutely gorgeous. The tracks of the wind made mountains beyond mountains and we rolled with the best of them. I was lucky enough to have scored the front passenger’s seat so I got the best view in the house! Like flying over a rollercoaster in your own private car. Picture a snowboarding bowl and us at a nearly 45 degree angle spinning around it. Not every car made it through with stomachs’ intact but we rocked it.
Halfway through the dune bashing, we stopped at a local camel farm. The camels were very friendly and well cared for, though they are either current or past racing champions. Yes, camel racing is a big sport in Dubai and these guys can be sold for top dollar depending on their success rate.
We reached camp and took in a falcon show. We had our hands henna-ed, in true tourist fashion, and settled down to enjoy the sunset. It was still blazing hot but no AC out there! 100+ degrees at sunset will put you into instant slo-mo.
To Emm’s delight (Saudi being a dry country), our camp had a bar! Nothing like a G+T to take the edge off. I always think of the British in Jaipur when drinking one, though we thankfully did not have to worry about warding off malaria with our choice of bevvies.
As night fell, we enjoyed a number of dance routines, including sword and belly dancing, an amalgamation of cultures thrown adopted into one show, not specifically from Dubai. Dinner was delicious – hummus, olives, tabouli, and all the baklava one could want.
The next day we were again picked up for our excursion and ferried off to Abu Dhabi, the emirate next door. While Dubai is a playground for the rich with the best nightlife, Abu Dhabi is rumored to be where the money is at. Architectural wealth was certainly on display.
The Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi is only 12 years old but it already encompasses the grandeur of a UNESCO World Heritage site. It took 11 years to complete and boasts the best of the best – marble from Italy, tiles from Turkey, and gold on every minaret and dome.
As an active mosque, women are expected to wear an abaya and cover their hair. Men do not have this expectation but you can see one man in white wearing a thawb, popular attire among men in the Middle East.
As mentioned, wearing an abaya and head covering is expected for women visiting the mosque. Though I’d covered my head, knees, and shoulders at mosques in Turkey and churches in Moscow and Rome, I’d never worn a full abaya before. I actually found it surprisingly liberating and very comfortable. Liberating in the sense that I wasn’t concerned with how my outfit fit and I could move it around to get air flow, which I was desperate for in the 100+ degree heat.
Our second stop of the day was the true impetus of our travel to Abu Dhabi – the brand spanking new Louvre Abu Dhabi! I’d heard of it being built and certainly over the hubbub surrounding the purchase of an is-it-or-isn’t-it controversial da Vinci painting in recent years.
The museum is heavy on cultural anthropology. In fact, it is comprised of 12 sections, each one a slice across continents and cultures, categorized by a defining heading – ie. Ancient Era or Religions of the World.
I really dug how a scroll from the Etruscans could be alongside an inlaid box from Japan, both being created during the same time period but continents apart. It really put a grand art history timeline into perspective and started some wild conversations seeing unusual items juxtaposed.
A major highlight for me was seeing Jacques-Louis David’s Napoleon Crossing the Alps in person. I’m never one to take a picture in front of a work but since I teach it to my students every year, this one deserved an exception.
For fun, here is the contemporary version I share with students when we discuss plagiarism versus appropriation, done by an artist I greatly admire, Kehinde Wiley of President Obama’s official portrait fame.
I could have stayed all day. When it came time to go, I ran into my Associate Principal from Moscow who was visiting for professional development! My friend Emmalee also ran into coworkers from Saudi so I think it’s fair to say it’s an equally small world for international teachers abroad.
A big ticket item in our hotel search was a pool. Knowing this would probably be my last gasp of summer, we booked at the Conrad Dubai. A word to the wise – the room was cheap but the food/drinks were not! But there’s nothing like enjoying a drink poolside and we milked it for all it was worth.
All too soon it was time to return to Moscow and my real life here. This kind of getaway is definitely not something I do regularly but was totally worth the effort and beyond. Sand in my shoes, I headed back to Russia…
Up next, I’m off to London for an art teacher conference and to catch a showing of The Cursed Child! Pics and stories to come…
It’s been a busy few weeks here in Moscow. Just before I flew back, I learned that I would be taking on the high school art position full time, giving me five new classes to plan and students I hadn’t seen since their Grade 7 year. We’re two weeks in and I’m really enjoying being back at the high school level. The kids are really dedicated and it’s just fun seeing them take to new techniques and medium so quickly. It’s also a trip to see how they’ve changed (or haven’t) three years on…
I wanted to share the beginning of my road trip story, the portion from Split, Croatia to Mostar, Bosnia. The natural beauty of the region and the warmth of the people is what sits at the forefront of my memories. I can’t wait to go back.
It’s been nearly a year since my friends Sarah and Ryan first suggested this road trip, as they were headed to a wedding in Sarajavo. I was curious what Split had to offer and have always wanted to see Sarajevo. So when school let out at the end of June, I hopped a flight from Moscow to Split. For the better part of a decade, Croatia has been Europe’s hotspot for international tourists. Separated from Italy by the relatively small Adriatic Sea, the country is known for it’s seafood, cliffside vineyards, and as a filming destination for many episodes of HBO’s Game of Thrones.
Our first stop was Diocletian’s Palace, the 4th century retirement home of the Roman emperor. He only lived in the completed palace for a handful of years but the walls and ruins are still very much the center of Old Town Split. We visited the site during the day but also at night, looking to escape the scorching heatwave moving across Europe.
Croatia’s seashore is famous the world over for it’s gorgeous turquoise water. Not far from our rented apartment was a nature reserve with a public beach open to all.
We toured the cobblestone streets of the Old Town, stopping for gelato both morning and night.
The boardwalk in Split has a French Riviera look to it. While Diocletian’s Palace (seen in the background) once marked the waterline, the shore is now a large marina, serving both yachts and ferries, the latter of which take off for a number of coastal islands nearly every hour.
We hopped one of those ferries for a day trip to Hvar, a popular tourist town with a fort to climb and delicious seafood to enjoy. We swam off the rocks in the harbor, again attempting to beat the heat. Hvar had some quaint side streets and, once you escaped the tourist paths, proved charming and picturesque.
Renting a car, we headed out to Mostar, planning to take our time along the way. My friend Sarah had done a wonderful job breaking up the journey to keep everyone, including the two year old, ocupado.
Klis was our first stop, just 8km outside of Split itself. Perched among the cliffs, this lookout castle dates back to the 10th century, with vertical drops enough to make your knees weak.
A massive highlight of the trip for me were the Kravice Waterfalls, just over the border into Bosnia and Herzegovina. Stunningly beautiful and super refreshing as the temps were over 100 degrees that day. As we walked down the stone path to the falls, we could feel the mist cooling our legs.
We rolled into Mostar in the late afternoon and it was immediately evident that we were in a different country. From the minarets dotting the skyline to the guy we paid to watch our car, it was clear we were not in Croatia anymore.
Neither the food nor the view could be beat at our restaurant along the river. The cool of the water through the ravine was also a plus, granting us reprieve from the heat as the shadows grew long.
As night fell, we heard the muezzin call echo across the banks of the river. Sitting out on the guesthouse balcony, we watched the lights pop on like fireflies dancing on the riverside.
Our one night in Mostar was plenty of time to enjoy a delicious meal, peruse the market stalls, and break up the journey. After a good night’s sleep, we packed up and made tracks for Sarajevo along the most beautiful stretch of highway I can recall…
To finish the story of this journey, find Part 2 here.
When I was a little girl, I read a book written by a 10 year old girl from Sarajevo. Her name was Zlata and her diary painted an incredible picture of the lead up to and the majority of the Bosnian conflict, as the US has come to call it. Zlata’s astute observations shocked me, tore me out of my comfortable life in a Boston suburb and placed me directly in the middle of the siege of Sarajevo. She could have been my pen pal (remember when pen pals were a thing?) – only 5 years older and horribly wiser.
While in Aberdeen in April, I reread Zlata’s Diary, diving back into the siege. Zlata – incredulous at the start, watching as her land of country homes and ski vacations devolved into madness – a weathered veteran by the time a French reporter managed to extricate her family only three years later.
As a result, Sarajevo has always been somewhere I knew I needed to see. I’d follow news reports, many emphasizing the damage to the 1984 Olympic stadium, defunct and damaged less than a decade later. So when my good friends from home mentioned they had a wedding to attend in Sarajevo, we hatched a plan to travel there together.
A few years back I had heard tell of a thriving music and arts scene from two educators I had met in Helsinki. Sarajevo natives, they implored me to visit and see just how far the city had come. When we first spoke, I assumed they had escaped the city during the siege but this was not the case.
Nearly 14,000 people lost their lives during the Siege of Sarajevo. Notable for the insane amount of time it lasted (1,425 days), the siege was nearly a year longer than Russia’s horrendous Siege of Leningrad (today St. Petersburg). The break up of Yugoslavia was bloody and violent, pitting neighbor against neighbor. Half a million people were living in Sarajevo alone at the start of the war. Today the population is half that.
Driving into town, I expected to see a town still ravaged by war. The physical evidence of the conflict was still visible in parts of the town – seemingly random bullet holes pockmarked nearly every historic facade. I later discovered the main street we’d taken in from Mostar lead us in through Sniper Alley.
Sarajevo, a once glorious city of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, has a tumultuous past. I stood on the Latin Bridge, the site of Arch Duke Ferdinand’s assassination in 1914, the event that ignited World War I. The tiny Ottoman bridge hardly belies its reputation.
Likewise, the eternal flame downtown denotes not the 1984 Olympics but the victims of the Second World War, during which saw Sarajevo occupied by the Nazis and the fascist Independent State of Croatia.
Beauty and softness are often found in places who have seen such terrible tragedy. Roses adorn the tree-lined streets. The unique architecture of Sarajevo – a place where Moorish (Spain) meets Islamic – is feast for the eyes. Unlike the Socialist industrial style apartment buildings which circle the town, the Old Town consists of one-story wooden buildings and dotted with mosques.
A Jewish book of illuminated manuscripts – think the Book of Kells for the Old Testament – the haggadah was created in Spain and brought to Sarajevo sometime after the 1600s. Featuring pigments of lapiz and gold leaf, the text is absolutely gorgeous. I had the opportunity to visit the haggadah at the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina on a tour organized by the bride’s mother. Incredibly, it survived the Nazi occupation, protected by the quick thinking of the museum’s librarian, who gave it to a peasant family living on his land outside of town who hid it under their floorboards.
On the same tour, we had the chance to visit Svrzo’s House, an Ottoman era home in Sarajevo owned by a Muslim family. The home featured areas known as haremlik (private area) and selamlik (public area), prevalent in upper-class family homes of the time. Stunningly beautiful textiles and rugs covered the rooms. I spotted a stove very similar to those in the Catherine Palace of St. Petersburg. The concave bowls provide more surface area with which to heat the room.
Possibly the coolest thing I did in Sarajevo was book a street art and graffiti tour through Sarajevo Funky Tours. I ended up with a private guide and driver who showed me around town for nearly four hours! Vanja, an art student turned illustrator, took me to all her favorite murals. Hearing the history from her point of view was fantastically interesting.
As a child, she experienced the war from an industrial town nearly an hour outside of Sarajevo. Very few people she grew up with are able to make a living in Sarajevo. In fact, she told me that there is an extremely high rate (80%!) of unemployed college graduates under the age of 30. College may be affordable but intellectual employment is hard to find. For a population whose parents worked the same Socialist-provided jobs their entire lives, the options are not satisfying.
We capped off the tour at the Olympic bobsled park, high in the hills atop the town. A beautiful canvas for graffiti artists, the hills once provided shelter for snipers who carried out their reign of terror upon the town below. We even got to spray on the wall at the end.
My time in Sarajevo was far too brief. With wedding activities (ie. delicious local meals in gorgeous locations) and a plane back to Boston I couldn’t see as much of the cultural underground as I’d hoped. But the trip has left me wanting more and resigned to return soon. This jewel of the Balkans has it’s hooks in me.
A couple of weeks ago I jetted off to Scotland for some professional development. My school is incredibly supportive when it comes to continuing our learning and I couldn’t appreciate it more. In the fall, I joined a ragtag bunch of a dozen art teachers stationed throughout Europe. When we met up in Luxembourg, we traded lesson ideas and did some place-based learning, taking in the city and making it our studio. Rubbings, painting sessions, and street sticker grabs fill my journal from that weekend.
This time, the group met up in Aberdeen, Scotland, for the kick-off weekend of the NuArt Aberdeen Festival. In the weeks prior, street artists the world over had descended upon this industrial northern Scottish town to make their mark. Throughout the weekend, I had the chance to see many of them speak on a number of topics from elderly engagement in the arts to tagging to contemporary outdoor museums.
Only three years young, NuArt Aberdeen blossomed out of the annual NuArt Festival in Stavanger, Norway. Another industrial city on the sea, Stavanger has been host to this street art festival since 2001. Aberdeen invests substantial funds to entice top name street artists to their city by the sea. The festival has made Aberdeen a bit of a street art Mecca. The official map of murals and paintings number just over 30 but there must be dozens more by lesser known artists.
Another art teacher and I set out to visit the works like a scavenger hunt and it took nearly two days and I still missed quite a few. I got to know the work of HUSH, Dotmaster, Jan Vormann, and Evol, to name a few. To hear more about these murals and the artists who created them, check this out.
On the day I was departing Moscow, I was eating breakfast in the cafeteria with a number of Scottish colleagues. Upon mentioning I was flying to Aberdeen that evening, one of them mentioned the new V&A outpost which had opened in Dundee (if you’re not familiar, the Victoria & Albert Museum is an extremely revered museum in London). Excited not to waste such an opportunity, I hopped a train my first morning in Aberdeen and rode it an hour south to Dundee.
The ride itself was gorgeous, beginning alongside the frigid waters of the North Sea and bobbing in and out of farmland dressed with stone walls. The museum proved impressive in range, hosting a “best of Scottish design” show alongside a show on video games and digital literacy in the age of e-sports (a term I’ve only encountered recently from my students).
Back in Aberdeen, our group spent time at the International School Aberdeen, a lush campus about 15 minutes from downtown featuring modern architecture and top rate educational tools. I can understand why the overseas faculty never leave!
One of the coolest things about my time in Aberdeen was the chance to see one of the huge murals come to life. SMUG’s mural on The Green was sweet enough but thanks to our local chapter member, we had dinner in a cabin in the middle of it all, watching the whole process go down.
Aberdeen proved a charming little town. A little rough around the edges, it’s burgeoning art scene is boosted by start ups like Peacock Visual Arts, a small gallery and extensive print studio. With spots like Books and Beans (which I frequented daily for breakfast), there’s a lot to love about downtown.
Though the festival events weren’t overly attended, the seven of us ate it up. Reinvigorated, I returned to my classroom ready to take on our next printmaking unit – protest posters – and put the inspiration and stencil skills to good use. Up next, I’m awaiting my aunt’s arrival in Moscow tomorrow. A trip to St. Pete’s is planned as well as the promise of more local Moscow sights to share with all of you.
Dubrovnik is a gem perched on the southern-most tip of Croatia. Known for its fortressed walls, delicious seafood, and charming stairways, the town quickly engulfed us with its charm and hospitality.
The Old Town stone walls, built in the Middle Ages, tower up to 82 feet in some places and are a great point of pride for Croatians — no marauding outsiders have ever successfully invaded them. We spent a grey morning walking the walls, with the cloudy sky over the ocean only adding to the mystic.
Dubrovnik’s rocky coastline is so stunning that is has been adopted by HBO’s Game of Thrones. For the CGI-heavy series, Dubrovnik’s beauty is truly the stuff of fairytales.
Dubrovnik falls within a region of Croatia known as Dalmatia, which also includes a portion of the Bay of Kotor, which you may remember from my Montenegro post. Fun fact: the Dalmatian dog originated here.
The region was once under the control of France, greedy for its natural resources and ports along the Adriatic Sea. Croatia did not declare independence until 1991, making it fairly young country.
Croatia saw terrible war throughout the 1990s as Yugoslavia unraveled. Croatia was one of 6 republics of Yugoslavia which included Bosnia & Herzegovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia. The Siege of Dubrovnik was a particularly awful period, taking place over 7 months beginning in the fall of 1991. Residents of Old Town faced terrible conditions as there was a communication blackout and supplies were extremely scarce. By Dec 1991, 19,000 people had been evacuated from the port of Dubrovnik with the help of ships flying the UNICEF flag.
As we walked the Old Town wall, it was truly inconceivable to think of 3000+ mortars raining down upon the terracotta roof tiles.
Katie and I did a lot of research about the war while in Montenegro and Croatia. What seems clear is that the conflict was not black and white. ESPN’s 30 for 30 episode entitled “Once Brothers” offers a heartbreaking take on the fallout of the war through the eyes of Vlade Divac, the former NBA player and Olympic medalist. As the episode points out, “war crimes were committed on both sides”. Many different interests with no clear winner.
Know as the Pearl of the Adriatic, Dubrovnik has a lot to offer, especially in April before the cruise ships have begun to come into port. Highlights included a cathedral with a Titian triptych on the alter, hot burek from the bakery, and delicious Croatian wine.
The rocky soil of the region, combined with the reflection off the rocks and water, mean the grapes get 3x the amount of sun as your average vineyard. With all the delicious seafood, I enjoyed the white posip.
We also took a day trip to Lokrum, known as the Emerald Island. Just a 10 minute ferry ride from Old Town, Lokrum is good for quick trip and a walk around the island. This was certainly a nice way to escape the tour bus crowd.
If you take the bus from Tivat or Kotor to Dubrovnik, anticipate nearly an hour extra for border control. Croatia being an EU country only exacerbates the wait. On the return, you sail through relatively unimpeded. 4 hours from Tivat to Dubrovnik’s Port Bus Terminal; just 3 hours from the Port to Tivat. 45 gorgeous miles. This is Tivat’s bus terminal – by the way – please ignore what Google Maps tells you. About 18€ each way. Euros are sometimes taken in Dubrovnik but the Croatian kuna (HRK) is preferred.
Hello, everyone. Just back from my spring break trip to Montenegro and Croatia, two gorgeous countries, both formerly part of Yugoslavia. The trip fell upon me by happenstance – my friend wanted to see Dubrovnik and no matter how we sliced it, we couldn’t get there without 7+ hours of driving or connecting flights. These days my patience for airplane connections is rather low, especially when it comes to a break from school. Thankfully, Katie had the presence of mind to look at a map of the region… and we were off to Tivat, Montenegro!
We were elated to touchdown at little Tivat Airport to sunny skies and 70F weather. Though this glorious weather didn’t last all week, it certainly cemented our appreciation for the gorgeous fjord that is the Bay of Kotor. This tiny country, half the size of Wales, packs a stunning aesthetic punch.
A few things to know before you go – Montenegro means “black mountain”. This ruggedly handsome country is a combination of deep water and soaring sky, with jagged mountain ridges uniting the two. Wedged in between Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Serbia, Kosovo, and Albania, Montenegro is one of the world’s youngest countries, born in 2006 (only senior to Kosovo and South Sudan). The majority of the population is Orthodox Christian, which played a role in the regional factions that led to the dissolution of Yugoslavia in the 1990s.
As we drove along the fjord, orange trees and wisteria dotted the waterfront properties. Mountain streams came crashing into the fjord, producing churning water that could surely be harnessed for natural power. Rocky crags jutted out over the single lane highways, hemmed in only by flimsy-looking netting.
We began our stay at the Boutique Hotel Casa del Mare Aurora, a hidden gem that I cannot recommend highly enough. Another accidental finding, this spot proved perfect for two teachers to unwind and acquaint ourselves with local customs.
The hotel featured a gorgeous deck over the water where locals and hotel guests would congregate each afternoon. Whether we fancied an Aperol spritz or a glass of Vranac (the delicious local specialty of a Cabernet Sauvignon and a rich, dark-berried Syrah), the sommelier had us covered. Definitely the best hotel breakfast buffet I’ve ever encountered, and the kindest staff to boot.
Looking to explore (and find an ATM), we made our way to Perast, a town along the Bay of Kotor featuring stunning views and two churches on man-made islands just off-shore.
After a few days of rest, we ventured into Kotor, an ancient town which was ruled by both the Byzantines and Venetians at one point throughout history. Dating back to 300BC, the red-roof city charms many a cruise-ship visitor (ships do dock here regularly).
From the road, the medieval walls of Old Town hide the adorable town within, and the cliffs above the city do well to mask the church and fortress which cast a watchful eye over the little town.
Exploring more of the local area, we first drove down to Budva and then inland to the edge of Lovcen National Park. Having opted for digital-free navigation, we noticed a road sign indicating Kotor was accessible without retracing our steps. Little did we know we would end up on the Serpentine Road!
We began at 880m above sea level (that’s 2,200 feet or a half mile). Down and down the switchbacks I drove, encountering few cars (thankfully) but a horse and multiple cattle along the way. The views were extraordinary, like walking on the wing of an airplane.
Renting a car was pivotal for exploring Montenegro but we opted to take a bus to Dubrovnik, knowing that the majority of the ride would be spent traversing the circumference of the Bay of Kotor. We wanted to enjoy the view without stress (those pesky crags!).
I’m going to pause the story here as I have to go pack another bag (don’t tell my cat!). Headed to meet some art teachers at the NuArt Festival in Aberdeen this weekend. Look for a Croatia blog post forthwith!
When my friend Elena took a contract with the Eternal Word TV Network in Rome, I knew a visit was in order. It’s been a decade since my friend Kate and I last visited the Eternal City. Across from the Pantheon, a restaurant advertises “gluten-free pasta or pizza”. Smart cars are still parked willy-nilly; half on, half off sidewalks. The Colosseum is as epic as ever, especially at sunset. The food is still unbeatable. So when we had a Friday off for International Women’s Day, I hopped a plane.
International Women’s Day is celebrated in many countries throughout Europe. Created to honor women who lost their lives in NYC in a textile factory fire in 1908 (prior to the more widely known Triangle Shirtwaist Fire), the day was adopted by many socialist and communist countries and then recognized by many feminist organizations worldwide. The UN began celebrating the day in 1975.
From fresh pasta to artichoke, Rome knows good eats. As I sat on fountain steps on my first morning in town, I watched a man wheel stacks of groceries through the square – cloves upon cloves of garlic.
Tradition runs deep in these parts. Food is serious business. Food is also the spice of life. Cappuccino: you stand, they deliver. Aperitivo, you sit. Pizza, stand. Gelato, stand or sit (seriously delicious either way). To say we ate our way across Rome that weekend would be accurate.
There are somethings I just love about Italian life. Charmingly (perhaps tellingly), every single public clock in the city but one proved incorrect. Work starts at 10am, casually wraps up at 6pm. Everyone and their mother is out in the square at night; drinking, playing, telling tales of the day. And the art. Ohhhh the art.
Having seen David at the Accademia, I opted to forgo the usual tourist haunts. Upon Elena’s recommendation, I had booked an advanced timed ticket to the Galleria Borghese. Do not miss this one, folks. A stunner of a villa, this lesser-know palace has frescos that rival those of the Vatican. It was there I learned that Octavian’s sister (Octavia) was married to Mark Antony, of Caesar fame. Antony and Octavian were major rivals. This was all before Cleopatra came on the scene. The more you know. Anyways, the marble sculpture of Octavia as Ophelia with the apple is a stunner.
In the Park Borghese I sat and sketched. A saxophone played nearby. The guy refused the coins I tried to give in appreciation but then relented after our funny exchange. As I walked deeper into the park, I found landscapes which looked ripped from canvases at the Louvre – too soft in focus to be real.
The Villa Medici bookended the park with stunning views spanning the entire city below. I toured the grounds under the tutelage of a startlingly expressionless yet deeply devoted French guide named Blanche.
The Villa has been under French ownership since Napoleon gained possession of the place in late 1800s. The Academy now sponsors dozens of fellows (known as “pensionnaires”) who will live and work on the extensive grounds. All artists who can speak French are welcome to apply. Upon hearing I was from Boston, my guide enthusiastically (her demeanor warmed considerably as the tour went on) shared that a former pensionnaire is now an art professor at Boston University. Go Terriers 🙂
Perhaps the highlight of the weekend for Elena and I was our street art tour in the neighborhood of Ostiense. Never ones to skip a meal, we made our way to the Mercato di Testaccio. Once inside, we made a beeline for Mordi & Vio and their heavenly panino picchiapo. Little known fact – panini is plural, panino indicates just one sandwich. Wandering the stalls before our tour, I couldn’t get over the fresh produce. The beans were huge! After another shot of espresso, we set off to meet our tour guide, a local architecture student.
Our guide began by defining street art as public art with a message. In Rome, street artists do this work for free, for a cause, and (typically) with permission from both government and site owner. We wandered through neighborhoods for nearly two and a half hours, learning about artists such as Roa (Belgium), Axel Void (Haitian-American), and Clemens Behr (Germany). I was impressed to know that some street artists like Andreco and Iena Cruz (below, right) are using air-cleaning paints in an attempt to stymie the effects of pollution upon the city and inhabitants.
All too quickly, my long weekend came to an end. On my final day in Rome, Elena took me to see the Pope give his Sunday Angelus. Privy to the text of his speech prior to the address, she translated the message for me as we watched flag-waving pilgrims fill the square. When the moment was right, a maroon rug was unfurled and Pope Francis appeared at a window above the square. It was pretty wild to see him with my own eyes and to be part of the masses gathered on a Sunday in Rome. After receiving his blessing, we enjoyed a final meal together and I headed to the airport with a suitcase packed with pasta and limoncello.
Like time spent with all of my friends from TASIS, it seemed like no time had passed. That weekend away was a game-changer for me, warm weather and all! Back to “spring” in Moscow which brings longer daylight and, hopefully soon, temperatures in the 50s. Addio a tutti!