Paris’s underground metro system is one of the most efficient and advanced in the world. Train travel at it’s best, in this traveler’s humble opinion. Though very modern train cars roam along the tracks, I love the old time signs that appear every once in a while. This shot was captured on a rainy day in the Montemarte area of the city.

In this picture, I enjoy the way the ominous sky seems pierced through by an equally ominous font. Considering this sign appears at the top of a stairway going underground, the entire mood here seems to match the feeling one might get looking into the unfamiliar abyss of the Paris underground. The bright orange glow of the accompanying lamp post seems to indicate even further warning.

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1. Starting the Photo of the Week series!
2. Photo of the Week 1/26/10
3. Photo of the Week 2/2/10

In the northwest of Belgium is a quaint port city called Brugge. Referred to as “The Venice of the North” because of its canals and waterways, it’s also a great place to catch a sight of the famous windmills in this Flemish region. While I was visiting in November 2010, the Christmas festival was being erected in the city center. No such festival is complete without an ice skating rink and I couldn’t help but notice that the already gorgeous city sites looked brilliant in their reflection on the frozen water.

I appreciate the monotone slate blue of the reflection as it truly mirrors the sky from that cloudy and chill day. I appreciate that from where I stood, the reflection was inverted so it appears as though this picture is “upside down,” when in fact this is exactly what I was looking at as I stared into the ice. This silhouette itself is interesting as the tree reflected here in front of the city capital has so much character. The texture makes the visage looks like a painting I’d love to hang on my wall.

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2. Photo of the Week 1/26/10
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The Brandenburg gate in Berlin is one of the most famous of tourist attractions in this capital city. Michael Jackson infamously dangled his baby off the balcony of the adjoining hotel. The embassies in the area regularly have protesters proclaiming their failures. The best location, however, is the grassy knoll in the middle of the causeway that is full of street performers and artists. Language barriers are irrelevant as most choose to have a word-free artform. For instance, the ones that pretend to be statues or the musicians that speak the universal language of jazz. My favorite was the man who spoke the universal language of bubbles.

This picture provides a rare glimpse of an infamous location and its human surroundings. This interesting character simply wanted to bring smiles to the faces of the wandering bikers and walkers crossing this path and I love that his own bubble frames his face. The sunlit gate still looks striking in the background, but in this photo it becomes a character looking over the people that pass through its columns on a daily basis.

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1. Starting the Photo of the Week series!
2. Photo of the Week 1/26/10
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The ancient tombstones in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Prague are a true site to see. Because Jewish practice does not allow the removal of tombstones, layers of graves and stones are piled upon each other in this cemetary. Each generation simply dug deeper into the ground. The oldest grave is dated to 1439, even before Columbus “discovered” the Americas! While it is cold in November, I found the colored leaves in the trees and on the graves’ surfaces to be stunning.

The depth of field in this photograph does a great deal to reveal just how many stones are piled into this small cemetery. The jilted directions and weathered surfaces give so much character to the charming locale. I also enjoy the irony of the dead leaves fallen upon grave stones, and yet it all is so beautiful.

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1. Starting the Photo of the Week series!
2. Photo of the Week 1/26/10
3. Photo of the Week 2/9/10

The Eiffel Tour

When you travel the world, you come home with lots of good stuff. There are people that amass refrigerator magnets. There are people that collect jewelry. The most “hard core” travelers will scoff and lecture you on the difference between being a traveler and being a tourist. Theoretically, souvenirs fall into the “tourism” category- the less cool category.

Well I have an embarrassing thing to admit to all of you: I collect Hard Rock Cafe glasses. I find this embarrassing because HRC’s tend to be the most cliche of travel stops. Why for instance, while traveling in Prague and surrounded by incredible culture and food, would you stop into a greasy American hamburger joint laden with rock star memorabilia?

My answer is simple: because the Hard Rock Cafe is what introduced me to the idea of travel to begin with. Some people have maps with dots that show where they’ve been around the world. Well before I had a passport, my first travel collection was a set of Pilsner glasses from San Francisco, New York, and other American cities I randomly got to visit through school trips or mini vacations. I thought it was so cool that I had souvenirs that were a testament to the fact that I had been somewhere other than here.

I’ve since embraced the idea of travel maps, I have a growing collection of puppets from around the planet, and now collect other more meaningful memorabilia that actually reminds me of the indigenous goods that are made in the incredible places that I’ve been lucky enough to visit around the world. However, through my high school graduation trip to Europe (which was only my second international venture), the Hard Rock Cafe glasses were still important proof that I had in fact been where I told people I was going.

Le Moulin Rouge in Gay Paris

After the summer of 2001, when the high school graduation trip was complete, I had three new glasses to add to my collection: Barcelona, Firenze (Florence), and Paris. My collection had gone international! Imagine my disappointment when I opened my suitcase upon my return from the trip and discovered that my Paris Pilsner had been shattered on the airplane (this was of course before I knew anything about packing). And thinking back, I had also accidentally slept through the tour of the Eiffel Tour. All in all, I felt I had not done Paris any justice.

The feeling of failure doesn’t sit well with me, so I always said that I had to go back to Paris. That I had to scale the Eiffel Tour and I had to replace my broken Pilsner. I said it for so long that I actually added the item to my “Life To Do List;” #20: Return to Paris (Scale the Eiffel Tower & replace Broken Hard Rock glass). I guess I was hoping that I’d somehow manifest a trip to Europe in the next five years.

Instead, my best friend and I had suddenly booked a trip to Nepal to shoot our documentary about the Unatti Girls. She joked about also wanting to go to Italy. I told her about my need to return to Paris at some point. I teasingly suggested that since we were already over there (there being over an Ocean but in fact, nowhere near Europe), we might as well add a month of travel and go backpacking from Italy to France after shooting the documentary. Why not, right? And then all of a sudden we were booking tickets from Nepal to Italy, with an unexpected stopover in India.

Striking a pose at the Hard Rock Prague

Once arriving in Europe, I added a couple of shot glasses to my Hard Rock collection when we were in Venice, Prague, and Amsterdam. We always happened upon the HRC’s, even when we weren’t looking, and once there, I couldn’t fight my ingrained urge to collect. Not to mention, the Hard Rock Cafe is one of the only places I got to eat avocado when I was in Europe… and I love me some avocado.

When we got to Paris, getting that darn glass was just as important to me as scaling L’ Tour Eiffel. But after a few days, I forgot about the Hard Rock and became entranced by the beauty that is Paris in the wintertime. The day before we were set to head back to the States, I was having a miserable evening after purchasing a new pair of shoes (having worn the same pair for two months straight). We declined to follow our good friend Dorit to the next stop on the party train and instead searched for the nearest subway stop to get back to our hotel and soak my poor miserable feet. Wouldn’t you know it that the closest subway station was smack dab in front of the very same Hard Rock Cafe I had been in almost 10 years ago! I call it Fate.

Call it silly, but I was extremely excited to get that glass. I was stoked that I had written down a goal over a year ago and that suddenly I was in Paris, had scaled the Eiffel Tour, and was soon headed back to my home in Los Angeles with new glasses to add to the very collection that had ignited my desire to travel so long ago. Embarrassing habit or not, my devotion to the Hard Rock Cafe collection literally landed me Back in Paris, so I guess it’s not a bad collection to have.

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The Bone Chandelier at Sedlec Ostuary

There is a small town outside of Prague (Czech Republic), reachable by train, called “Kutná Hora.” At one point in its history, this small neighbor competed with Prague economically. Still part of “Bohemia” and now the Czech Republic, this lesser famous town is only worth the visit if you’ve got the time. I certainly wouldn’t recommend missing part of Prague in order to see it.

The main reason to visit this quaint little town is that it has some amazing photo opportunities. In November, which is when I visited, the streets were deserted. It felt like a ghost town, but the absence of humans made the layers of fog and chill seem more crisp and made the glossy streets and multi-colored trees seem like a painting you were magically given permission to walk through.

The site I particularly came to see was the Sedlec Ostuary, called Kostnice Sedlec in Czech. For our part, we call it “The Bone Church.” With an exciting history that includes ties to “Black Death” and thousands of graves, If you’re not freaked out by piles of bones, then this place is a spooky yet fascinating display for you to see.

Church workers infamously constructed piles of bones from the many bodies originally buried in the area as well as a family coat of arms (ironic?) and a chandelier. This leaves the place looking like permanent Halloween art installation.

Just a short walk from the train station you arrive at, you’ll need to ask one of the station staff for a small map to tell you how to get to the Church. It’s about a mile or so walk, with small town charm to feast your eyes on as you stroll. The train to get back to Prague comes every two hours, and since you don’t need a reservation to ride in either direction, you can peruse at your leisure.

If I’m being honest, I will say that the church is much smaller than you think it would be. The information cards they give you (translated into many languages) are not particularly well-written or informative, but give you some context for what you’re looking at. The tell-tale souvenir skulls that you can purchase as well as the “flatten a penny” machines made the church feel less than holy. But the pictures you get… they can’t be beat.

The surrounding graveyard is also rather picturesque as it is quite small and surrounded by fields of colorful trees. I was impressed by the local devotion to making sure that no grave was flowerless or forgotten.

Overall, I enjoyed (but was underwhelmed by) my extremely brief visit to the small town of Kutná Hora. It was a cheap & fast train (about 1 hour & US $20 from Prague), an extremely picturesque view along the way, and a wonderful treat for my camera’s lens when I arrived. I was lucky enough to have plenty of free time, otherwise I would have passed.

To see more pictures from this interesting locale, check out my FlickR page: HERE

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The Train Station

It is embarrassing that Americans are not forced to learn more languages. Leaving U.S. soil and heading any place that does not list English as its national language will show you that. It is relatively easy for a United States (or United Kingdom) resident to get around the world, specifically because English is spoken so often. I think it does a disservice to ourselves to therefore rely on this convenience rather than force ourselves to expand options by diversifying our communication options.

In Belgium, you can’t get a job with the government unless you speak four languages. Almost everyone in Europe and Asia, especially of the younger generations, knows at least two. Though I studied Hebrew as a student for my Bat Mitzvah, I’ve never used it conversationally. I took more than four years of Spanish classes, but rarely take the opportunity to speak with the multitude of people around me in Southern California who could help me keep the words fresh in my memory bank. I’d really like to change that.

Though I was already experiencing the self-deprecation of being an influent American traveler in Europe, a man on a train decided to grind in just

The View from the train

how unfortunate my lack of ability is. We were headed by train to a portion of the picturesque (see right) Czech countryside called Kutna Hora while reading aloud (In English) from our Kindle. The man passed by us on the way to his seat and attempted to speak to us in Czech, which we do not speak. When we explain this to him, he grew very frustrated.

In very broken English, he growled “When I go to America, I must speak English. You are in Czech Republic. You should speak Czech. ” I apologized to the man on behalf of the American educational system. He grumbled away and left my travel partner and I dumbfounded and feeling bad. I wanted to visit him at his seat and explain that I too wish for that. That the reason I don’t speak Czech is not that I think my language is better, or that I shouldn’t have to learn it- but that I’ve never had the opportunity. Then I remembered that we don’t speak the same language and that an explanation (said, “excuse”) would not fix the problem.

After 2 months of being in countries where English is not the primary language, I’d like to say that treating a foreigner differently because s/he speaks a different language is inappropriate. No matter how frustrating the miscommunication(s) may be, it’s important to recognize that somewhere in the world- you can’t be understood either.

To bridge this gap, I highly recommend trying while traveling. Learn key phrases such as “Please” and “Thank You.” Even starting and ending with these small attempts fills the space around your conversation with attempts at meeting in the middle. And even better- go learn another language- or two. And then travel to a country that speaks that language. And then use it. The pride you feel for the accomplishment and the respect that you give to the native speakers has the capacity to make a real difference.

After all, wouldn’t it be amazing if we could all actually talk to one another?

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1. A Review: Kutná Hora (The Bone Church)

A Torah Scroll in Prague

There were 9 high schools in my hometown of Fremont, CA. Good ole’ American High School (home of the proud Eagles) happened to be the farthest from the only Jewish Temple in town. This meant that all the Jewish kids I hung out with all went to different schools than me, and I was one of only two practicing Jews at AHS. By day I was Varsity Head Cheerleader (I know…) and by night or the weekend, I rejoined “The Jew Crew” at Temple Beth Torah, just a short 20 minute drive from my house. At a young age, I was already used to living two separate lives.

Living this “double life” gets rather exhausting. Being a Jew in a predominantly Christian community forced me to become an expert at explaining to my teachers that I couldn’t be present in class because of the High Holy days, or declining a Friday night get-together with school friends because it was Shabbat and my parents were singing in the choir.

As a result of having to constantly explain to people why I was different, I fully endorse public educational systems being forced to recognize all holidays from all religions/faiths. Having others understand that I celebrated something different made my life easier and made me not feel like such an outsider.

Besides, even though I was Jewish, I celebrated many Christmases and Easters (and even Kwanzaa!); I even went to midnight mass when I was dating a Catholic. I can sing any Christmas carol and many a gospel song without needing the lyrics written down. Jesus has been my literary homeboy since having to read “A Tale of Two Cities” in high school and learning what a “Christ-like” figure was. I’m used to being surrounded by a religion and its parts that is not my own. It gets overwhelming during the holidays, but I’m used to it.

Because I lived as a minority amongst my peers, I recognize that I have a bit of a complex. When given the opportunity to unite with fellow Jews (or those who love us), I flock wholeheartedly to my peeps. Being around other Jews has the addictive effect of making me feel part of a community.

Exhausted during Gadna Israel Army Simulation

Imagine my enthusiasm when at the age of 14, I traveled with 118 of my young Jewish peers from the San Francisco Bay Area to the Holy Land of Israel(pictured RIGHT). I was surrounded by Jews in a land full of Jews. The ooey-Jewey goodness of it all was overwhelming to say the least. Suddenly having my Jewishness make me part of a majority was alarming. It felt weird to not have the fact that I am Jewish make me weird.

Being a traveling Jew in Europe, I got overwhelmed by the beauty of the churches I saw. The frescoes on the dome of the Duomo in Florence are stunning. Stained glass has always been a secret obsession- so my eyes were spoiled by the splendor throughout Italy and particularly at St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague.

In Prague, I suddenly got to go on my first “Jewish” tour. This wasn’t a tour for Jewish people, it was a tour about Jewish people. My people. We toured the streets of the Josefov region of Prague- where the Jewish ghetto “Terezin” once existed. I walked through temples laden with old Torah covers, yads (torah pointers), and siddur (prayer books). Hebrew was written on the walls and I could read it. Songs played over museum sound systems and I recognized the melodies. It seemed I was suddenly in a different world.

The Stained Glass at St. Vitus Cathedral, Prague

While I often reminisce about my trip to Israel 10 years ago, I forgot what it felt like to travel to a predominantly Jewish location. I forgot the sensational freedom that accompanies a relief that I don’t have to fight to help someone understand me or my beliefs. That being Jewish just isn’t an issue- it’s an assumption. It was a rare and very welcome treat.

Back at our hostel, I heard a young Christian missionary complaining to another traveler about having to go into Temples. She said, “I don’t even believe in that religion- so why go there?” I did not interject in her conversation, but instead thought about how beautiful the churches and mosques were that I had seen. I thought about how much I appreciated their religious and historical significance, though not specifically tied to my own.

I feel that history belongs to all of us. A true traveler embraces the opportunity to learn about other cultures and religions. After all, If I had had the same mentality as that young girl, I would have missed out on seeing most of Europe! Seeing as how I am rarely part of a majority, I’d rather humble myself and appreciate all the beauty that comes from different cultures/religions than my own. There’s just too much to see that has nothing to do with Judaism and if growing up in a constant state of “otherness” has simultaneously imbued me with a capacity to appreciate what is not mine… then maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

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The gorgeous sunset at Ponte Vecchio in Florence

Growing up in California, I have visited and lived in many “cities by the sea.” As such, sunsets over the ocean are a Cali treasure that I happily don’t take for granted. As a result, I get great satisfaction while traveling to places offering views of multicolored skylines kissing cool ocean blue. I love when the water and sky get together and make magic happen.

Italy is a peninsular country that has a rich history indelibly tied to its marine surroundings. Sea merchants from around the world have used Italian ports to do their business while adding to the culture of the region. Bridges have been constructed over the multitude of water ways and boats of innumerable fashion have been designed to carry a cargo through the waterways and canals.

All of these elements mean something extremely important to this traveler: Italy provides some of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.

There are two particular sunset spots that come to mind when I think of this past week’s journey through Florence and Venice; one in each city.

Ponte Vecchio is a bridge running over the River Arno in Florence. When standing in the middle of the bridge and looking NorthWest up the river while the sun sets, you get an incredible view of other Florentine bridges and the reflection of lights from the multitude of homes and hotels built right along the waterline. The cloud formations over the Italian peninsula look like you’d imagine a fairytale city would appear. The entire mise en scene is unanimous in its goal- to provide your eyes with splendor.

Sunset off the docks on Murano Island in Venice

In Venice, there is water everywhere, so it would seem difficult to choose one spot from which to appreciate the sun setting on the grotto. Alas, I was fortunate enough to have the spot choose me instead of seeking it out myself. The visage appeared while I was returning to Venice aboard a water taxi from Murano (the smaller island famous for its Venetian glass factories). As we were waiting for the water taxi at the “Museo” taxi stand, we were flanked by two shores of gondolas, shops, and… wait for it… a lighthouse. A picture can’t capture the beauty- so go see it for yourself.

In fact, use my Murano Sunset example as inspiration. Feel free to borrow these suggestions, but remember there are islands, seas, rivers, and oceans all around. Go find a spot that others haven’t listed in a travel book already! In fact, if you’ve already got one that you know about… share it by leaving a comment below with details. I’d love to compile a list of alternative sunset spots around the world.

In the mean time, I’m off to watch the sunset in Prague!

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1. Florence is still a Favorite
2. Drooling for Italian Fashion

It should come as no surprise that Italian people are stylish. Many a famous designer label has started from the mind of an Italian: Valentino, Versace, Prada, the list goes on. What may be surprising however, is that everyone is stylish. I mean, babies wear clothes I’d never dream of drooling on.

Italian fashion, at least in the winter of 2009, is simple. Women wear a tailored winter coat over skinny jeans tucked into gorgeous leather boots. And yes, those boots are healed and yes, the women don’t hesitate to march on the cobblestones. This leads me to believe that Italian women officially have the most durable ankles in the world.

Men wear equally stylish winter overcoats above tailored and pocketed slacks just grazing the tops of their leather loafers. By the way, this is what they wear to work, but also what they wear to coffee shops. Looking good is a part of life and is not reserved for the uncommon special occasion.

While it’s amazing how beautiful (and thin) the women and men of metropolitan Italy are, there is something lacking as well. I’m not just talking about body fat; I am talking about color.

I arrived in Italy after traveling in Nepal and India for a month. In these countries, colorful Kurtas and Saris adorn every woman and real men wear pink not because it’s the new trend, but because it’s what’s clean. The people of Nepal and India are unabashedly colorful. The people of Italy could teach you a lot about the grayscale.

My other observance is that individuality seems uncommon in Italy. The woman with the blazing red overcoat was a rare treat, as was the man who had Converse paired with his $200 jeans and blazer. “Go designer or go home” seems to be a mantra worth mentioning. But if everyone wears the latest season, then where does one person begin and the other end?

In my case, I prefer to be around those who mix and match. The ones that throw on a pair of flip flops to meet me for a good vanilla latte and whom I might see a week later at a party looking fly and fancy free. Don’t get me wrong, I’d certainly like to own a pair of those fancy Italian boots one day. But I’m only going to bring them out on a special occasion or when I just want to dance in front of a mirror and imagine I am walking in Florence again.

In the mean time, I’ll window shop till I drop in Italy and drool upon my own worn out t-shirt instead of that Versace baby bib.

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