This Side of the Ocean

We've been home for over a month now. Being "home" means traveling to see grandparents at their various U.S. addresses and catching up with friends who moved to New Jersey and making quick trips to Philadelphia just because we can. It certainly has not meant unpacking and settling and feeling rooted in New York again, but I'm sure it will soon enough. For now, there's this, our view from this side. Have I mentioned that what I most missed while living in Paris was being able to see the ocean?

Walking the tight rope, on skates

There's a line that has been going through my head from Bebe's brilliant record "Pa'fuera Telarañas." It goes, "El tiempo corre en patines cuesta abajo  Y no tiene freno hasta que das el golpe." Time definitely feels like I'm going downhill on rollerskates lately. Malanga Girl turned 5, we had a cookie disaster and then suddenly, I was sending her off on her first overnight school trip to a circus camp in the French countryside while Malanga Papa and I escaped to Corsica.

Now it feels like forever since I was watching the sun set over a peaceful harbor in Corsica while my daughter was playing at being the woman who walks on the tight rope. (She's known as le funambule, in case you ever wanted to know the term for the tight-rope walker in French.) If I don't write down what we've been up to in this last month before we move back to New York, I never will! But where to begin? How about a photo or two of Corsica?



Ah, the exquisite Mediterranean!

Once Malanga Girl and I returned from our respective trips, there wasn't much time for relaxation. We spent a day at EuroDisney that felt like we had been transported to a little piece of America. I'm sure avid Disney visitors will find differences between the park here and the one in Florida, but I didn't. The biggest difference to me was that I am no longer 8 years old and I'm responsible for someone else now. Even that difference faded away when I was whirling around on the tea cups with my eyes squeezed shut.

We've made many recent visits to the Jardin de Luxembourg, one of the places I will most miss  in Paris. The newest show at the Guignol (Marionette Theater) is truly delightful. We've seen La Valise Enchantée de Patachon three times already since it debuted at the end of April and I anticipate we'll go back again before the big move. I've been telling all of my Parisian friends to go and now I am telling you; this one is by far the best Guignol show I've ever seen. We even bought the video!

As for me, I've been finishing up edits on two projects and trying to sneak out to cross things off my "Paris to-do" list in between bouts of straining my eyes over pages and pages of printed text. In the last week alone, I saw Leonard Cohen in concert at the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy, hit the Musée Rodin and its spectacular garden, finally saw the Chagall exhibit at the Musée du Sénat (Luxembourg), attended a very thorough exhibit on the origins and planning of the city of Brasilia at the Communist Party headquarters here (an interesting building in and of itself), went to the famous flea market just north of the city, was elbowed every which way and had my feet rolled over by several shopping carts at the Barbes-Rochechouart market (where I saw stacks of cut sugar cane the likes of which I hadn't seen since my last trip to Cuba), and enjoyed several meals, coffee dates and play dates with various friends whom I anticipate seeing again one day in New York or Rio or Montreal or Mexico City. These are the kinds of people I've come to love in this city: a bunch of women infected with wanderlust as  insatiable as my own. But still, I will miss our ability to hang out spontaneously in Paris. I will miss so much.

So what's left to do? Well, a whole lot of book-purging and book-purchasing, for starters. I walked over to the Gibert Joseph with a stack of novels I've already read and guidebooks to Berlin, Seville and other places I traveled to since moving here and received store credit for their resale value. I should be purging even more, but instead I am excited about what French novels I can buy with my store credit. After a coffee date with some friends this morning, a trip to the neighboring Portuguese bookstore seemed almost mandatory. Where else will I easily find every Portuguese-language book I've ever wanted when I return to New York? Plus, I have a project brewing and need to do serious research. Here's my loot from today:

I also need to cook more rabbit and duck while those meats are easy to procure just steps away from my home. More baking would be nice, but I'm running low on supplies and doubt I will restock this close to our move date.

On the sight-seeing list, I still have more places than I think I will get to, such as the Institut du Monde Arabe (where I could have taken Arabic classes, but now never will), the Musée du Moyen Age, the Musée de l'Orangerie, and the Musée Picasso. And then, of course, there are the lazy walks I'd like to take around some of my favorite places: Montmartre, the Tuileries gardens, the Montparnasse Cemetery, the Place Monge and the Rue Moffetard... Lazy anything sounds good right now, but impending transatlantic moves don't allow for much of that.

Cookie disaster

ie, when the literary and the culinary don't mix. Yesterday's experiment taught me that. But before yesterday, imagine me walking into a bookstore and strolling over to the cookbook section. Imagine me picking up and paging through every volume on display of the "Les chefs cuisinent la littérature" series. (That's "Chefs cook literature," and their tag line is "Reading makes you hungry.") There was a book with a complicated seafood recipe based on a mention in Melville's Moby Dick and some other books with recipes I passed on. However, I thought the "eat me" cookies inspired by Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland would make a good rainy day baking project. The slim booklet included two chapters from Alice in Wonderland translated into French (how fun!) and then the cookie recipe put together by none other than Apollonia Poilâne, the head of my favorite bread shop in Paris.

I bought the book then headed off to Poilâne to purchase the "bread flour" called for in the recipe. Then the book and the flour sat on my shelves for a few weeks, while we went off to Scotland and while Malanga Girl turned five. (Oh yes, she's FIVE now!) Yesterday, we came home earlier than usual after school due to a sudden temperature drop outside and some nasty sideways rain. It seemed like a perfect day for making cookies, especially since we have a playdate coming up. Malanga Girl got right to work, as you can see below.

Measuring flour

Adding cherry jam to the cookie centers

Then came the agonizing wait while the cookies baked, then cooled off. We knew as soon as we bit into them that something was off. The texture was too crumbly and the flavor was just, well, not so good. Malanga Girl suggested baking them for longer. I obliged her, but went over the ingredient list while the cookies were back in the oven. Tahini, eggs, butter, pistachio flavoring and cherry jam. Hmmm, no sugar? Maybe that's what made them taste so very not cookie-like? But what about the texture problem?  Out of the oven they came and they were still crumbly and still blah-tasting.

Was it the use of bread flour instead of regular flour? Did I overdo it with the tahini? If I were to add sugar next time, would that improve the texture or just the taste? I continue to ponder these questions, but in the meantime must declare that Alice could not possibly have eaten these when she went down the rabbit hole. No playdate participants will eat them, either. This morning, I made some brown butter poppy-seed financiers from Béatrice Peltre's cookbook, a recipe that was a big hit with the kids in Malanga Girl's yoga class this past winter.

Scotland for the Under-Five Set

Scotland was Malanga Papa's idea, but I ended up loving it. I had to wear a winter coat in May and my hair didn't curl the same way and we only had two rain-free days and yet I loved it. I loved the beyond-my-wildest-dreams landscapes, the friendly, outgoing people, and the feeling of hundreds and hundreds of years of history seeping into everything standing there today. I loved being on small islands that are cold and rugged and unlike any island I have ever been on before. Sometimes when I travel, I love a place because I feel at home there. Other times, like with Scotland, the less I recognize something, the more taken I am by it. Scotland is about the most exotic thing I can imagine in comparison to Cuba.

Scotland was incredible from Malanga Girl's perspective as well. Below are the top activities I would recommend for the under-five set (although for one of them, you technically have to be five and an allowance was made given Malanga Girl's upcoming 5th birthday). The only downside is that our trip involved a lot of driving. I do not like car vacations much, as a general rule, but the places we drove through were beautiful. Nonetheless, because of the driving and the fact that the activities/places I am about to recommend below are not close to each other, I would understand if you held off on a Scotland trip until you felt quite confident about your own ability to drive on the left side of the road. Driving on the left is the ultimate challenge in staying zen, as is being a passenger while your spouse drives on the left.

1) Stirling Castle

Let's start with the fact that it is an incredibly well-preserved castle with a lot to see. The Great Hall could very well have been the setting where all the clansmen gather to present their sons in the Disney movie Brave (ok, yes, I said that to Malanga Girl, but I was sure to say "maybe it was the setting..."). Then there are the vaults, where kids (and their parents) can dress up in period clothing, play musical instruments and see and participate in other aspects of palace life in the 1550s. You may have already seen the Unicorn Tapestries at the Cloisters in New York, but this is the place they originally came from. Have you ever seen someone making a tapestry? Has your child? At Stirling Castle, you can! They are remaking each of the Unicorn Tapestries with the same original technique. Each tapestry takes years of work. It's fascinating to watch tapestry-making in progress.

2)  Urquhart Castle

Beautiful ruins and an interesting story about what has stood on this prominent point on Loch Ness at different points in history. Also, great views of Loch Ness!

(Picture above of a page in Malanga Girl's travel journal.)

3) Fairy Glen, Isle of Skye

This is where fairies live. I believe it.

4) Portree Stables "Own a Pony" Day, Isle of Skye

You have to be 5 for this one. It helps to love horses. It's a good thing Malanga Girl is turning 5 this month since she adores horses. We dropped her off at Portree Stables at 10am and while Malanga Papa and I walked through the Cuillin Hills of Skye, Malanga Girl got to brush, feed and ride a pony. We picked her up at 3pm and she was so thoroughly worn out that she promptly fell asleep in the back seat of the car. Good thing, too, since we had a long drive ahead of us to catch the ferry to Mallaig and then down to Oban from there. On the ferry ride, a perfectly revived Malanga Girl told us all about her pony day and hasn't stopped talking about it since...

5) Auchingarrich Wildlife Centre

I saw my first live meerkat upclose here. Malanga Girl's reaction to this animal was, "it's just like in the Playmobil zoo!" Sadly, my camera had run out of juice by this point in our vacation, so you will just have to go up to Comrie in Perthshire yourself to see your own meerkat. We also spotted peacocks, owls, llamas, alpacas, wallabys, and we fed goats and sheep. Malanga Girl held a baby chick and played in both the outdoor and indoor playground areas.

If you've had a long, action-packed vacation and want something low-key to the day before you fly back out, this is the perfect place to go. It's just a little over an hour drive to Edinburgh airport from here.

Croque Madame

Why have a regular old Croque Monsieur when you can have it with a fried egg on top? Voilà le Croque Madame, Malanga Girl's favorite Parisian bistro treat. A big pile of fries on the side and a glass of apricot juice are a must.

April in Paris

It's really and truly spring now, which means back to the parks and open spaces of Paris. Since the temperature inched up and the flowers bloomed, I've found more time to run in the Jardin de Luxembourg in the mornings and more time to play outdoors with Malanga Girl after school. I've just found more time and energy, in general. Sunshine is good for the soul.

This past weekend, specifically, brought us the discovery of the Jardin de Reuilly and the Promenade Plantée. It could take me a lifetime to hit every single park in this city, but I wish I had found the expansive lawn of the Jardin de Reuilly earlier. There aren't a whole lot of grassy fields in Paris where parking your derriere is allowed, but here is one where you can sit for as long as you like. Nothing says spring like the picnicking group next to you popping open a bottle of champagne.

Encouraged by my dear husband's tip that chocolate milk is a good post-run drink, I finally set up a Cola-Cao/Banania taste test at home this weekend, too. Malanga Girl helped me judge. We both agreed that Cola Cao tastes better. It doesn't dissolve as well in milk as Banania does, but it is infinitely more chocolatey. I doubt this news will change the world, but if you're ever caught living between competing French and Spanish nostalgia, maybe you'll think of my Cola-Cao/Banania taste test.

The weekend ended with Malanga Girl's ballet recital, an event that made me a little weepy as I saw the huge difference between the smallest class and Malanga Girl's class on stage. Malanga Girl was so serious, so poised. She was really dancing, as opposed to running on tip-toes to show off a cute costume like last year. It's incredible to see how much can change in a year. Incredible, too, to think that this is our second spring in Paris.

If You Only Travel to One New City with a Child...

It has to be Venice! Everything about the city was absolutely enchanting to Malanga Girl, from the magic of vaporetto rides up the Grand Canal to even the simplest things like the way that Cinderella sounds when reborn as "La Cenerentola." If the opportunity to see your child try spaghetti drowning in black cuttle-fish ink or to see her play with a plate of fried sardines before popping them into her mouth isn't enough, below is everything that pushed Venice to the top of our child-friendly destinations list.

1) Water! Canals! Vaporettos! Gondolas!

And better still, not a single car anywhere. Malanga Girl ran down Venetian streets, whipping around corners and racing to the next bridge to see if she could spot another gondola passing while we meandered along at our own pace.

2) Palazzos!

At least one of these palaces even has a jail hidden inside, I'm just saying.


3) Masks! Everywhere! And a chance to paint your own!

Ca' Macana in the Dorsoduro neighborhood is the place to go to paint your own masks. They have their own fabulous artisans' workshop just down the street from the shop and children as young as 5 (or almost 5, as was our case) can come in and paint their own mask for a fee. Malanga Girl selected a cat mask and learned how to mix pink and blue paints artfully, in addition to having the chance to play with some silver and gold paints and to select some fancy rhinestones and pearls to further decorate her mask.

Be sure to make a reservation.

Ca' Macana
Calle delle Botteghe 3172
041-277-61-42

And while you're in the Dorsoduro, check out some of the stores below that are in the same neighborhood.

4) Children's Book Stores!

By now you know I am a bit obsessed by bookstores and by the eternal search for the "perfect" bookstore. We found two lovely bookstores devoted to children's books in Venice. Toletta Kids is in the Dorsoduro neighborhood, not far from Ca' Macana. Laboratorio Blu is in the Cannaregio neighborhood's Old Ghetto. Both have an amazing selection of kids' books in Italian, some great books in English, and very inviting spaces for kids to sit down with big piles of books while they digest their latest gelato.

 Toletta Kids, Dorsoduro 1175

Laboratorio Blu, Cannaregio 1224 (Ghetto Vecchio)

5) Whimsical toys!

Signor Blum's 2-D wooden puzzles and mobiles wowed me. I wanted one of everything, from the miniature Rialto bridges in bright blues, oranges and reds to the gondola mobile I pictured hanging in a corner of my home office. I settled for letting Malanga Girl pick out a miniature tree decorated with different motifs instead of fruit. She had a hard time deciding between the music notes, ice cream cones and red hearts, but went with the music notes in the end. I am trying to figure out how to convince her that it should go somewhere besides her room, so we can all enjoy it.

Signor Blum
Campo San Barnaba 2840

Just across the square from Signor Blum is another toy shop, Lanterna Magica. They have a nice selection of toys like board games, dress-up clothes, and play kitchen accessories.

6) Gelato!

It's true that Malanga Girl has had a lot of good ice cream in her life already, but you can never have too much, right? This is just one more reason she loved Venice. The fish and pasta were also quite tasty.

De Madrid al Cielo

Even on a rainy day, Madrid makes me smile. Malanga Girl and I had a few hours to spend there this past Tuesday between our train arriving from another Spanish city and our flight back to Paris in the evening. My friend AL told us to meet her at the entrance to the Mercado de San Miguel, near the Plaza Mayor. The Mercado de San Miguel is new since the last time I was able to wander Madrid to my heart's content, but the Plaza Mayor and the Puerta del Sol (where the closest metro stop is) are as reassuringly familiar as a favorite old sweater. Sure, things change, like the Tio Pepe sign being taken down from Sol to make way for a new Apple store and the 2009 move of the Oso y el Madroño statue to a different point on the plaza. But I emerged from the Sol subway station and knew exactly which way to go. After fourteen months in Paris, I often come up from the metro at street level in different parts of town and have to spend a few minutes getting my bearings.

In any event, I snapped this picture of Malanga Girl in the Plaza Mayor just before the rain came down in full force. We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with AL and eating the most delicious merluza I think has ever passed my lips. The beet, gorgonzola and hazelnut salad and the fresh-pressed banana juice were pretty close to absolute perfection as well. Oh, and the homemade hummus with sesame bread sticks had Malanga Girl practically licking the bowl. Really, I think I need to make a trip back to Madrid right now just to duck into Motha again. If you go there, you can thank AL for the recommendation.

Pop that Cookbook in the 8-track Player

I am typically about ten years behind technologically, as anyone who saw my word processor in college knows. So why not invoke the venerable 8-track player as I swoon about my current favorite cookbook? In this age of Epicurious and similar recipe web sites (and apps), as well as Kindles, I feel like singing an 8-track ode to my favorite cookbook at the moment. Or reversing the imagery and suggesting that this book is my "French life soundtrack." Few things right now document my version of Paris better than my handwritten notes on the glossy pages of Béatrice Peltre's "La Tartine Gourmande." Oh, Beatrice, you are like my Edith Piaf and Julia Child rolled into one!

In the last week alone, I've made Peltre's Carrot and Red Lentil Soup, Millet, Oat and Apple Muffins, Walnut, Lemon and Ricotta Pesto Tartines with sautéed Mushrooms (pictured above), and, the pièce de résistance, Eggplant, Lamb and Winter Squash Crumble. This last one was divine, never mind that it took almost three hours to make start-to-finish. That's what Valentine's Day is for, right? I just had some savory crumble left-overs for lunch today and it took much self-control to leave a tiny sliver for Malanga Papa to enjoy again this evening. Its presence in the fridge is nagging at me as I type this.

In addition to cooking, I've been spending these gray winter days doing some serious "rest of my life" plotting, agonizing over Malanga Girl's Kindergarten future, reading the enormous stack of back issues of The New Yorker that my friends AH & CF so generously saved for me, and trying to figure out what I most want to translate next. There was a semi-amusing, semi-terrifying mouse chasedown incident in our kitchen last month. It caused me to go on a short cooking strike and to become intimately acquainted with the rodent-related devices and products sold at local hardware stores. The ensuing family drama also prompted my purchase of the delightful children's book Anatole for Malanga Girl. Thankfully, Anatole is now the only mouse to make a regular appearance chez nous.

American Girls in Bruges

This is Kanani in Bruges, Belgium last weekend. I could have posted a charming photo of Malanga Girl making silly faces canal-side, but her dolls are a fairly important part of our household. Many are just as well-traveled as Malanga Girl since I can't think of a single trip on which Malanga Girl has not brought a doll along. I even had to institute a "one doll only" policy a couple of years ago that was met with a certain amount of tears and protest. Anyway, I usually forget to capture which doll came where on film, so allow me this moment to eternalize Kanani's trip to the land of beer, chocolate and waffles. Truly, how could any family travel to Bruges and not be incredibly happy? Add a Christmas market with stand after stand of mulled wine and deep-fried olliebollen, fun game and carrousel areas for kids and you have yourself a truly divine place to spend the weekend before Christmas.

After the drudgery of lots of work in November and most of December, I'm basking in the just-like-in-college-or-grad-school glow of being blissfully deadline free this time of year. (So especially nice considering that I spent this time last year organizing an international move!) Besides traveling, I've been reading the thick stack of French paperbacks that had been sitting on my nightstand for months, catching up with old friends and making some new ones, trying out new recipes and reading The New Yorker magazine cover-to-cover. Oh, and exploring Paris! It took us 353 days to do so, but we finally visited the Louvre as a family today. Malanga Girl was not even the tiniest bit disappointed or perplexed by how much glass was standing between her and the Mona Lisa. Malanga Girl's face shone with admiration as Malanga Papa lifted her up so she could get a better look at La Gioconda through the crowds. And so our first year in Paris comes to a close.

To New York and Back (The Accidental Baker)

I have a knack for flying right into hurricanes. I moved to Florida as Georges was approaching many years ago and drove a rented car out of West Palm Beach airport past lines of people in front of super markets and Home Depot. I remember a strange meal at Kenny Rogers Roasters, by myself, and shopping for canned goods at the Walgreen's. (I had no idea what I was grabbing, and it's possible that I didn't buy any bottled water.) That night, I saw the wind rip the screen door off of the screened-in porch of my corporate housing. The lights flickered, but somehow I was unscathed and it became nothing more than a weird anecdote inaugurating my "real" adult life. After that, I learned what foods I should have around in case of an emergency, learned that beds and furniture should be moved away from windows when there's a storm approaching, that a windowless bathroom or walk-in closet is a good place to take shelter, but a friend's house further inland is even better, and that it's a good idea to have a bag packed with all my important documents. At first, this included only my driver's license, passport and check book. After my initial trip to Cuba, I added the pictures I'd brought back of my grandparents and other family members and their baptisms, weddings and quinceañeras. These had been saved by my uncle Orlando in a big box for years and I was not going to let any hurricane obliterate their existence.

Fourteen years later, I've scanned and digitized all the old family photos. Most of the photographic evidence of my life in the last decade, including Malanga Girl's birth, was digital to begin with. When I arrived in New York this past October 28th, I had bags full of water, canned beans, dried fruit, bread, rice cakes, and tinned sardines and meat (hello, Vienna sausages!). I had a little girl who had no real idea what a hurricane was, except for to understand that the power could go out at any moment. She helped me put the flashlights and candles in places where we could easily find/use them in the dark. And she ate dinner, brushed her teeth and put on her pjs in record time Monday night, "in case the lights go out." We hunkered down in the master bedroom together, where I would know exactly where Malanga Girl was should we have to leave in the middle of the night or should the wind shatter any windows in the apartment. I had my purse next to the bed, with money, passports, my phone, a change of clothing and some of Malanga Girl's books. I didn't hunt around the house for birth or marriage certificates since all of this was scanned less than a year ago for our French visa application. Sometimes bureaucracy has its benefits.

I woke up to the sound of the wind a few times Monday night, but in the morning, everything was calm and still. I looked out the back window and saw a few fallen trees behind our building, as well as strewn leaves. But there was no water pooled high anywhere in sight. I waited until Malanga Girl was awake to gingerly test a light switch. We both held our breaths in anticipation. Click! On went the light. Malanga Girl cheered and sang, "we don't need candles!" We ripped open a pack of Thomas' English muffins in celebration and pulled the butter from our still-humming refrigerator.

Then I turned on the news. By now, everyone knows how devastating the effects of the hurricane were, but I felt sick as I watched the fires in Breezy Point and the floods in lower Manhattan on the screen for the first time. While it was comforting to know first-hand that the piece of New York around me was quiet and undisturbed (something I would have no way of immediately confirming had I woken up in France that morning), I could not help but think "why were we so lucky?" It made for a very complicated inner life, one that joins other emotional baggage accumulated while professionally dealing with other people's trauma for years.

I had Malanga Girl and her happy crew of friends to distract me a bit (school was cancelled all week), but I needed to still the chaotic buzz in my head otherwise. Keeping my hands busy is usually a good trick. Keeping them busy clicking away on my phone to get the latest news on the New York Times web site, however, was not calming. So I turned to baking.

I love to cook, but have never thought I had much aptitude for baking. It seems too exact, too scientific. Just like I remember all the chemistry experiments I failed at in high school (the liquids never turned the color they were supposed to or evaporated before even getting to that point), I clearly remember the cookies that melted into each other on a sheet or the breads that didn't rise at all. But something about it being such a challenge makes baking a form of meditation for me. I cannot let my mind wander when I am trying to follow a baking recipe. I have to methodically go from step 1 to step 2 to step 3, put my hands in there, grind, mix, mold, and next thing you know, I have something in the oven and a clearer mind and lighter spirit. I baked my most-ambitious cake until then on the eve of Hurricane Irene in August 2011 and in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, baked not just pumpkin cupcakes, but pumpkin cheesecake, too. I had to wait until the local grocery store had restocked their eggs to make either, but once I had a fridge full of eggs, I was zen baker-girl for almost a whole day. It was good for the soul.

Better still for the soul was that I donated the cupcakes for a neighborhood-organized hurricane relief effort. They were sold for a dollar each alongside cups of hot chocolate donated by the local Starbucks. It felt like everyone in the neighborhood was out, buying or contributing baked goods, and organizing boxes of donated clothing and food that some neighbors would later drive out to the Rockaways, despite the gas shortage.

The cheesecake I ate with some friends who came over one night after Malanga Girl had gone to sleep and for their company, I am eternally grateful. Gone are the days of weathering a hurricane alone at the Kenny Rogers Roasters.

The picture above was what Malanga Girl drew when I prompted her to depict Hurricane Sandy. (I was inspired by the "Kids Draw the News" feature of the New York Times.) She says these are the trees that were still standing in our neighborhood after the hurricane. I need to take a cue from my child and her eternal optimism!

Paris Moments

Life has been passing by very quickly lately, between moments of playing tourist/hostess and working on the never-ending manuscript edits. The highlights: many lovely fall days spent wandering Parisian streets, the chance to finally eat at L'As de Falafel (here's my tip: it's much easier to get seated on a week day, but so worth it no matter the wait), the opportunity to whip up many more veggie-centered meals than I ever thought I was capable of, and, of course, time with Malanga Girl.

The photo above is blurry, I know. But it so perfectly captures the joy of the little moments. This was taken while we were coming back from the Place Saint Sulpice tonight. Malanga Girl stayed on her daddy's bike the whole way home.

Of livros and livres

I should probably devote a few more posts to book-shopping in Paris, since it's one of the activities I enjoy most besides actually reading the books I find here. One day I will make some kind of master list of bookstores by neighborhood and theme, but until then, I will just swoon about stores and upload pictures and addresses here when I'm inspired.

I found this gem of a Portuguese-language bookstore in the 5th arrondissement last week when I went to register for French classes at the Sorbonne. The French classes didn't work out because I needed way too much documentation (proof of previous educational degrees? What?) and, as it turned out, way too much time. The thought of spending three hours daily in a French class right now is a little overwhelming. But, my little walk over to the Place de L'Estrapade left me with some time to wander into this beautifully arranged store. On one side, books by Portuguese-language authors translated into French are displayed. Another side is devoted almost entirely to Brazilian authors. There are also books by African and Portuguese authors, all further subdivided into fiction and non-fiction, and children's books. The children's book selection focuses on home-grown authors from Lusophone countries. There are also some French-language children's books that draw on traditional Portuguese/Brazilian tales. Oh, and lots of dictionaries. Amazing, truly. I had to repress my urge to buy a French-Portuguese-English children's picture dictionary.

I went back to this store later in the week because I wanted to explore even further. I arrived armed with a list of writers recommended to me by different friends and was happy to find their books on the shelves. No need to ask anyone to do a book-run to Brazil for me or to fly down to Lisbon just to visit Ler Devagar again (although I wouldn't mind doing that anyway). As long as I am in Paris, of course...

The details:

Librairie Portugaise & Brésilienne

19-21 rue des Fossés Saint-Jacques

Place de l'Estrapade- 75005 Paris

I'll leave you with this image of Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland" simultaneously translated into French and into baked goods, spotted at a cupcake café on Rue Abbé Gregoire.

Pumpkins with a Side of Russian Translation

A certain non-vegetable-eating vegetarian British friend of mine asked me this weekend, "what is it with Americans and pumpkins?" This was just after he had turned down a serving of my absolutely-delicious-oh-my-gosh-I-am-in-heaven pumpkin curry. (That's my name, not my recipe. The recipe is here. Also, I added some fish in the photo above, not part of the original recipe.) My answer? I honestly have no idea. I came to pumpkins late in life since my mother never cooked them at home. We never had pumpkin pie at Cuban San Gibbin, nor do I have any memories of anything pumpkin-inspired at all during my childhood. I am sure there is so much more to be done with pumpkins than what I've picked up in the last few years, but maybe that's the root of my excitement. The possibility.

You see a pumpkin, I see one kilo of possibility sitting in front of me at the farmer's market. Oh yes, I said one kilo, otherwise known as 2.2 pounds. This was the smallest quantity of pumpkin I could walk home with when I arrived at the farmer's market late one day last week. So, while I had only planned to make a pumpkin-goat cheese quiche (also yummy), I ended up with the curry as a bonus. Perhaps another American could answer my friend's question more satisfactorily?

Powered by all this pumpkin goodness, I headed to a reading this evening by dynamic translation duo Richard Pevear and Larissa Volohonsky at one of Paris's last remaining English-language bookshops. (I can't get started on the dramatic closings of several stores here this summer right now. Suffice to say that even though I read in French and there are loads of lovely French-language bookshops, my heart dies a little any time an independent bookstore closes.) Malanga Girl came along, with a brand-new sticker book under her arm to keep her busy while the reading took place. Here's the line-up of readings that may have seeped into her subconscious as she stickered away:

- A hilarious dramatic re-enactment by both translators of a scene between Dmitry Karamazov and Madame Khokhlakov from Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. If this ever becomes available as a podcast, this would be the place to find it.

- Larissa Volohonsky read a lovely reflection on beauty, love and perhaps some things I missed due to not having read the whole book, from War & Peace. Okay, I confess that I was still imagining Madame Khokhlakov as I heard Ms. Volohonsky's voice, so I missed some of the substance of this particular piece.

- Richard Pevear read the short story Nevsky Prospekt by Nikolai Gogol. Go read it yourself now. In Pevear and Volohonsky's translation, of course.

- Larissa Volohonsky read the scene from Bulgakov's Master and Margarita where Margarita first appears. Even though I had read that one, it cut my breath short. Was it Bulgakov or Volohonsky?

- Both translators read from a Nikolai Leskov story to be published in a collection in March.

The usual question and answer period followed the reading. It had the occasional question formulated merely to show how clever the question-poser is, but was generally interesting and stayed on-topic. Amid discussion of using latinate versus anglo-saxon words in English translations and whether a translation can "improve" the original (overall consensus: it can't, unless you are Beckett and are translating yourself), I wrote down the following two phrases by Richard Pevear: "Every time you say something about translation, it turns out the opposite is also true" and "English is rather rhyme-poor." I'll jump on those bandwagons.

As for Malanga Girl, when she heard me telling Malanga Papa later that "the reading was fun," she vehemently denied such a thing and said "it was not fun." And yet, she did want to know who "Margarita" was...

Béatrice vs. Martine

(I'm about five days behind on life due to an 800-page manuscript that needs tending, but let's pretend all of the following just happened today instead of last week. Ok?)

I have been looking for a non-meat-centric, non-baking-centric French cookbook since I arrived. I have picked up some cookbooks here and there, but have mostly regretted leaving my copy of Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking back in New York. The closest all-natural cookbooks I've seen here are full of salad and soup recipes. Let me tell you something: salads and soups have their place, but I do not live on them alone. Also, it's hard to read through recipes coupled with tidbits on how to grow my own vegetables. I am fairly committed to urban dwelling at this point in my life. I accept that I will not be digging in the dirt to turn up the raw ingredients for my next meal. 


Enter La Tartine Gourmande by Béatrice Peltré. Béatrice is a French-born, Boston-living woman with a passion for food and an adorable young daughter. She mentions Whole Foods a fair amount in her book and said book is even blurbed by none other than Heidi Swanson and David Lebovitz (whose charming memoir/recipe book on Parisian living won me over despite my initial skepticism). Such a perfect find for me already, and to boot, her recipes are written with side-by-side measurements for both an American and a French kitchen. I can use my Matriushka-shaped measuring cups or tell the farmer's market folks exactly how many grams I need of something. I quickly promoted this volume to "most treasured cookbook ever" status, before I'd even cooked a single recipe out of it.

So, I was all set to bake some chocolate-tahini cookies when my sous-chef Malanga Girl questioned why I needed to listen to this Béatrice woman at all. Didn't I realize that Martine was the only French girl worth emulating, experienced as she was in such admirable and diverse activities as ballet dancing, horseback riding, taking care of her baby brother AND cooking? Oh yes, it's true, long before La Tartine Gourmande came out, Martine had her own cookbook. Béatrice Peltré even mentions dear old Martine in her own book!

But did I listen to Malanga Girl at first? No, I overrode her and went off to the health food store. I searched for all the special flours Béatrice calls for in her chocolate-tahini cookies: brown rice flour, millet flour, and quinoa flour, plus quinoa flakes. I tossed a neat little jar of tahini sauce and the perfect tablet of chocolate into my panier (basket) and headed to the downstairs flour section. There was the millet flour, mercifully also called millet in French since I had forgotten to look it up, and there were two bags of what could be brown rice flour if I could just figure out why the names were slightly different. But, the shelf that was labeled with "quinoa flour" was empty. Well, no matter, surely I could ask for some from the back. I headed to the register.

Now, I should mention that for months and months, I was greeted at the health food store by the same wonderfully pleasant woman who always chit-chatted with me, asked about Malanga Girl and recommended new recipes. Sadly, she went back to school this fall. (But not before telling me she was leaving and exchanging phone numbers and e-mail addresses with me!) Her replacement is not nearly as charming. Actually, she borders on rude. So when I asked her about the quinoa flour and received a mildly sarcastic response indicating that if I didn't see it on the shelf, then they clearly didn't have any, my dreams of baking chocolate-tahini cookies were crushed. I like to think my refusal to buy everything in my panier would show that rude clerk that she should perhaps offer a cheery "I'm sorry we're out of that right now" to the news of no quinoa flour, but I am mostly certain she could care less.

So what's a Malanga Mama to do when she craves chocolate cookies and has no quinoa flour? That's right, I turned to Martine's recipe for chocolate-chip cookies, using regular old flour, chocolate chips, butter, sugar an egg and pecans. The recipe even has a little note about the origins of pecans and how they grow in North America, a factoid that Malanga Girl was very excited about.

We ate the cookies too quickly to photograph them at all. But they were delicious!

Oh, Lusitania!

In case you haven't noticed, I spend a lot of time planning the trips I take with Malanga Girl. Even when it's just a whirlwind-we'll-only-be-there-for-two-days kind of trip, I want to know if there's some amazing park or museum or puppet theater we should check out. It helps when we have a local friend to show us around, but I'm not shy about emailing everyone I know to ask for recommendations or about poking around the Internet to get ideas. I found way too many suggestions for our recent jaunt to Lisbon, one of my very favorite cities anywhere. If you don't know my friend Miguel, who was a brilliant host when I went to Lisbon for a quick work-related visit this summer, then check out this page for a full line-up of kid-friendly activities.

For me, Lisbon is a wonderful place to just spend hours sitting in a cafe in the Chiado, sipping coffee, reading a book and nibbling on a pastel de nata, or two, as the sun shines down on me. Malanga Girl's enthusiasm for pasteis de nata rivals my own, but she has little desire to sit still for long. (Incidentally, if you're ever looking for a pastel de nata in Paris, I highly recommend Comme à Lisbonne on Rue du Roi de Sicile.) So, off we went to explore. A full day was spent running around the towns of Cascais and Sintra with my parents, whose quick trek through various towns in Spain and Portugal prompted our decision to fly to Lisbon in the first place.

In Sintra, the Museu do Brinquedo was just as quirky and charming as I remembered from a very long-ago visit with Malanga Papa (pre-Euro days, that's how long ago it was). Malanga Girl spent a long time on the third floor devoted to bonecas (dolls) of all shapes and sizes while her grandfather looked at all the miniature tin soldiers, Red Cross ambulances and other WWII-era toys. He happened upon quite a few things that he claims he hadn't seen since his own childhood. In short, the Museu do Brinquedo was the perfect multi-generational family outing.

A large part of our only full day in Lisbon was spent at the Marionette Museum, a museum Malanga Girl now claims is her favorite in the world. I'm not sure if any pictures do it justice as you can't quite feel the awe and magic of the dimly-lit puppet-filled rooms. Nonetheless, above is a sweet one to give you a sense of the museum.

One of Malanga Girl's enduring Portuguese obsessions now has to do with the unscripted moments of TV-watching while on vacation. At home, I am not a big TV person, but I do find it fun to flip through the channels on foreign TV to see what's popular in another country. Not only did I find plenty of Brazilian telenovelas airing on Portuguese TV (my guilty pleasure), we also found a kids' channel broadcasting Portuguese acts like Xana Toc Toc and Os Caricas. Malanga Girl found Xana Toc Toc's A Mala Cor de Rosa  to be positively addictive. Perhaps you will, too.

72 Hours in Berlin

I was an idealistic thirteen-year-old when I saw images of the Berlin Wall coming down, broadcast on TV in our U.S. living room, with my parents chanting "Cuba's next!" next to me on the sofa. I still remember Schwester Irene, our high school German teacher, and her excitement about the events unfolding in Germany in 1989. She brought in newspapers with big, bright pictures of people just a few years older than us standing atop the Wall or at the Brandenburg Gate, arms raised, faces caught in mid-yell. And so Berlin had lived in my imagination since then, despite my best efforts to visit it properly on previous European trips.

Malanga Girl and I made the two-hour flight to Berlin on a Wednesday afternoon last week, with a long list of sights to see, parks to visit and things to eat before our return flight on Saturday (thanks, KP, whose German experiences are artfully chronicled here). I had no idea how immense the city of Berlin is nor how much living in compact, walkable from end-to-end Paris has skewed my ability to manage my time in other cities. We quickly learned how to navigate both the S-bahn and the U-bahn, and learned that you can ride it for a long, long time and still be in Berlin proper. There's a lot we didn't do. Let's get that out of the way first, so I can refer back to this list in case I get to Berlin again anytime soon.

We didn't get to visit Checkpoint Charlie or the Museum there or any of the last remaining pieces of the Wall at Mauer Park or East Side Gallery; we missed out on the German Museum of Technology (supposedly fantastic for smaller visitors), the Legoland Discovery Center at Potsdamer Platz and on the more pedestrian pleasures of tasting Currywurst or a Berliner (jelly doughnut). We walked past the lovely and inviting Cafe im Literaturhaus, but Malanga Girl wasn't too interested in making a pit-stop there. I am also disappointed to report that I discovered upon arrival in Berlin that I'd left my camera's battery in Paris, so I have no pictures of our journey or of Berlin's majestic, tree-filled parks. I am inclined to call them mini-forests instead of parks. We did get our fill of those and you will have to believe my description, in lieu of pictures.

Here's everything we did see, hour by hour.

Wednesday

5 p.m.
1) Charlottenburg

We arrived at Zoo Station via train from Schönefeld Airport. It was a very easy ride, during which I couldn't stop thinking of U2's Achtung Baby, another strong high school memory. After checking in at the Grand City Hotel and realizing it was the biggest hotel room I'd ever been assigned in Europe, Malanga Girl and I wandered up to Savigny Platz. There were tons of sidewalk cafes and restaurants inviting us to sit down for a meal. Hesitant of my German language skills, I chose Anda Lucia, the Spanish tapas restaurant where the entire waitstaff spoke Spanish with accents from Southern Spain. Minus two points for not pushing my comfort zone, but at least I asked the waiter to teach me how to say "check, please" in German.

Thursday

11 a.m.
2) Tiergarten

We walked past the Zoo, at the request of Malanga Girl (who was not in a zoo-visiting mood this day), and entered the vast Tiergarten, a veritable forest in the very center of Berlin. I had to consult one of the large maps posted by Strasse des 17 Juni (the main road that cuts through the Park) to find the Spielplätze (playgrounds) hidden within the dense lot of trees. We went to two different playgrounds, although there were several more dotting the Tiergarten map.

2 p.m.
3) Bus #100

My French guide book said this was the bus to take to get a full tour of Berlin's greatest sites. When I realized we were only 1/3 of the way through the Tiergarten and that it might take us much longer than I anticipated to reach the Brandenburg Gate on foot, I jumped on the #100 bus that stopped as we were waiting to cross the street. Too bad I got on in the wrong direction. Instead of taking us through the rest of the Tiergarten and then to the Brandenburg Gate, up Unter den Linden and eventually to Alexanderplatz, the bus took us back to the Zoo. We jumped on the U-bahn at Zoo Station to fix this mistake. It is extremely handy that a public transport ticket is valid for a full two hours no matter which combination of buses, S-bahn and U-bahn trains you take and not just valid for a single ride (take a lesson there, Paris).

3 p.m.
4) Unter den Linden (Mitte)

We stopped for an Apfelstrudel at Cafe Einstein. Malanga Girl accompanied hers with Erdbeer Eis (strawberry ice cream), even though the menu suggested Vanilla ice cream. One Apfelstrudrel would have sufficed for the two of us since it was rather large. The strawberry ice cream threw Malanga Girl over the top and she had no interest in eating anything again for several hours.

We wandered into Berlin Story bookshop, where there were many novels set in and about Berlin, available in English, as well as dozens of guidebooks, post cards, and children's books. I consulted more guide books with lists of child-friendly sites, just in case I could cram any more into my 72-hour window. I am compulsive like that. Two doors down from Berlin Story, we popped into the Nivea flagship store, because I can't resist gawking at beauty products. Too bad I wasn't checking luggage on the flight back as there weren't really any travel-sized containers to be had.

5 p.m.
5) Monbijou Park

This park is across the bridge from Museuminsel, the island home to many of Berlin's important museums. Malanga Girl and I made a deal that she would accompany me to a museum if we went to one more Spielplätz. The Berlin sky drizzled some rain on us, but Malanga Girl didn't mind at all as she climbed all over the playground equipment. Meanwhile, I studied the map once again in awe of how much ground we had covered with our feet already and how much of Berlin was still left unexplored.

6:30 p.m.
6) Pergamon Museum

Museums are open as late as 10 p.m. on Thursdays. Some are free after 6 p.m. According to the sign on the door, the Pergamon is not and hasn't been since 2010. Happily, admission is free for kids. This museum was quite magical, with its Greek altar and Gates of Babylon. The Museum of Islamic Art, on the second floor, also housed a beautiful collection and included a domed Moorish ceiling from Granada, Spain.

8:30 p.m.
7) Fernsehturm- the TV Tower

Just when I was looking for Bus # 100 to take us back to our hotel area, Malanga Girl spotted the TV tower and wanted to go inside. We walked until Unter den Linden meets Alexanderplatz and rode all the way up to the top of the tower. (It's open until midnight, in case you were wondering.) I enjoyed the view of the Brandenburg Gate at night, but couldn't quite make out the Soviet-style buildings of Karl Marx Allee. Surprisingly, this ended up being Malanga Girl's favorite sight in all of Berlin, even though she wondered why we couldn't go all the way up to the skinniest point of the tower.

9:30 p.m.
8) Bus #200

We got tired of waiting for Bus #100, so hopped on Bus # 200 instead. The end of the line is Zoo Station as well, but it goes through Potsdamer Platz instead of through the Brandenburg Gate and the Tiergarten. Several train lines stop at Alexanderplatz, but  I actually love seeing cities from the windows of its public buses.

Friday

11 a.m.
9) Viktoria Park (Kreuzberg)

Another veritable mini-forest in the middle of the city. I had to ask three different people, "Wo ist die Spielplätz?" to find the playground. I believe there's actually more than one playground in this park, but the one we found is by the tennis/raquetball court on the western edge of the park. I marked it with an "x" on my physical map of Berlin, like a treasure spot.

4 p.m.
10) Zoo

It took a long time to get out to Kreuzberg in the morning and back to the Zoo area, which is a shame since the Zoo closes at 6 p.m. Nonetheless, we got a nice taste of what a wonderful Zoo this is. The giraffes mesmerized both of us and Malanga Girl was also quite taken with the lions. In addition to the almost 14,00 animals, there are also small playground areas in the Zoo, as well as, you guessed it, many, many trees. I would go to Berlin again just to spend a full day at the Zoo with Malanga Girl.

6:30 p.m.
11) Ka De We

This is the big department store in Berlin- Kaufhaus den Westens. According to one of my guide books, it's also continental Europe's largest department store. Ka De We is a short walk from the Zoo and is open until 9 p.m. on Fridays, so it seemed like a good place to stop before dinner. The gourmet food hall on the top floor satisfied my usual curiosities about food-shopping in other countries (and had some deliciously ripe peaches that we ate on the spot). The toy floor, however, was where we spent most of our time. Playmobil, Haba, Gotz dolls, Steiff stuffed animals and various non-German brands of toys all share space here in neat rows that afford opportunity for hands-on play. It was the vastest toy selection I've seen in a long time (in Europe, at least) and the prices were very reasonable considering that Ka De We is an upscale department store. We left with a few new Playmobil figures, including a flight attendant from the Playmobil "Special Plus" collection, a collection I haven't seen in France at all. I also grabbed a German Playmobil catalogue and have since been agonizing over the price difference (compared to France) and the availability of play sets in Germany that I didn't previously know existed. Maybe they'll come out here soon?

Saturday

10 a.m.
12) The long subway ride to Kollwitz Plaza

I thought I was planning efficiently by choosing a playground spot right by a much-raved-about farmers' market on the same side of town as the airport, where I had to be by about 12:30 p.m. Little did I know that the journey from Charlottenburg to the neighborhood of Prenzlauer Berg would take almost an hour, leaving us just a precious 30 minutes or so to take in the market (well worth the hype) and play in the playground (also quite nice). There was no time left at all to walk just the few blocks or so on to Mauer Park before heading to the airport, but I'm glad Malanga Girl was able to get a final taste of Berlin's Spielplätze.

12 p.m.
13) Weltzeituhr- Alexanderplatz

Our last ground-view glimpse of Berlin was of the Weltzeituhr, the World Time Clock, on Alexanderplatz as we ran from the U-bahn station to the big train station for our airport-bound line. This futuristic-looking clock shows the time in different cities around the world. It gave me pause for thought that this clock was at the heart of East Berlin back in the day, and that most people there were never allowed to visit any of the cities listed on the clock.

Hold the Roller Coasters, Please

It's August. That means that a large part of Paris's population has cleared out to various beaches and mountains across Europe. Lucky for us, that doesn't mean that the city has shut down entirely. The parks are still here, including a few summer-only ones like Paris Plages and the amusement park in the Tuileries Gardens. If you're traveling this way with a child, here's a non-exhaustive list of the places that have filled our summer days:

Jardin de Luxembourg: The most famous, with reason. If you've never been to Paris, this is probably the place you picture when someone says "Parisian parks." The manicured lawns (most not to be stepped on, beware), the statues, the little pond with the wooden boats being pushed around by children of all ages, the Guignol (puppet show), the joggers trotting by (including me, some mornings!), the people stretched out on the ubiquitous green lawn chairs either taking in the sun or reading the newspaper or having some lunch... It's all so heart-breakingly perfect that despite the other available options, I choke up the 3,70 Euros for Malanga Girl and I to enter the kiddie play area there at least once a week. Note that this is the only "for pay" playground I have found in Paris so far. One fee covers you for the whole day, though, and you can enter and exit as many times as you wish until 7pm. Be sure to bring along enough money for the carrousel (1,50 Euro) and the puppet show. And a crepe or PEZ dispenser or cotton candy or any of the other sweets around to tempt children and adults.

Les Tuileries: a beautiful, huge garden sandwiched between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde. It's impossible to miss if you're strolling along the Rue de Rivoli or taking a bateau down the Seine. There's a very nicely designed kiddie park area available all year, and in the summer, the huge amusement park includes a ferris wheel, a trampoline (4 Euros for 5 minutes, but in my experience, they let you jump for a far longer period of time), and various rides, even a rollercoaster. The Caterpillar rollercoaster is designed for younger riders, but Malanga Girl did not like the ride at all. Some fried dough and carnival games made her forget all about it, though.

Bois du Boulogne Jardin d'Acclimatation: A second attempt on the rollercoaster at this park proved to all members of Malanga Familia that Malanga Girl is not a rollercoaster girl at all. Happily, there are many other rides for the four-year-old set to enjoy.

Parc Champs de Mars: with a wide expanse of green grass kids are actually allowed to run and play on and a fantastic view of the Eiffel Tower, what's not to love? It has not one, but TWO carrousels, three free kiddie park areas (divided by age-appropriateness of the equipment), concessions stands, a Guignol (puppet theater) and a concert area. Oh, and pedal cars! Did I mention that one of the carrousels is crank-operated? And that the largest playground area is shady and cool on a hot summer's day?

Parc Monceau: A little gem in the patrician 8th arrondissement. I stumbled upon it on a brisk November day during my house-hunting trip. It immediately seemed magical for reasons that are hard to put into words. We don't get there very often, but the very words "Parc Monceau" are like a fairytale encantation for Malanga Girl.

Parc André Citroën: Not the easiest park to get to since the closest subway stations are still a decent walk away. However, the time and energy you invest in getting there will see their reward in the form of water play and a hot air balloon. Note that the balloon only goes up if weather conditions are favorable. Check here for more info. There's also lots and lots of grass for picnicking.

Parc George Brassens: Off the normal tourist track, but it's an especially lovely place to visit on Sundays, when there's an old book market and pony rides for kids. The two kiddie park areas are superb and the Guignol (puppet show) is charming. There's also an outpost of famous Parisian bakery Poilâne nearby.

Parc des Buttes-Chamont: The park I know the least as it's massive and we still haven't been able to explore each corner of it. It's in northeast Paris, in the 19th arrondissement, and overlooks the whole city. This is the place where Malanga Mama is most likely to spend an entire day by herself once fall comes and school is back in session.

Jardin Catherine Labouré: My favorite park when I just want to lie on the grass or sit on a bench sunbathing while Malanga Girl plays. It's perfectly self-contained and a haven of peace and quiet almost any day of the week.

Canal St. Martin: Not technically a park, but the canal is a child-worthy destination to see the boats passing and the locks system in action. It makes for a lovely, lazy walk on a Sunday, when the streets are closed off to vehicular traffic. There are some parks along the way, including one tucked in just between the Canal and Gare de L'Est. And for four weeks spanning July and August, Paris Plages is set up along one part of the Canal.

More Malanga Mama park-swooning here and here.

If parks aren't your thing, Malanga Girl has also greatly enjoyed riding the little train that goes around Sacre-Coeur, the Batobus around the Seine and visiting the Musée Dorsay (the ballerinas are her favorite).

Just for fun, here's a link to a post describing my first trip to Paris with then Malanga Baby. I can't believe that was three years ago already!

Livrarias & Co.

The true measure of a city's greatness is the quality of its bookstores. I've been to otherwise perfectly lovely places and left with a pain in my chest at not finding a single good bookstore despite there being a strong local literary tradition (I mean you, Granada, Nicaragua). But then there are the places where you would fly in for a day just to spend a few hours at a place like Miami's Books & Books, or New York's Idlewild or The Strand  or Boston's Trident Books or Philadelphia's House of Our Own Bookstore or Buenos Aires' El Ateneo. Just writing their names makes me swoon a little.

Happily, my recent travels to Lisbon, Portugal and Copenhagen, Denmark were filled with discoveries of lovely bookshops. In Lisbon, I stocked up on Portuguese literature and children's books at Assirio e Alvim and Livraria Bertrand in the Chiado and at Ler Devagar (pictured) in the LX factory of the Alcantara neighborhood. Should you find yourself in Lisbon, the Chiado is easy to find and picture-perfect for strolling around. To get to the LX factory, take tram # 15 and get off at the Alcantara stop, then walk a few blocks to Rua Rodrigues Faria. The factory is at the end of that street, with other cute stores inside, but I only had eyes for the bookstore.

In Copenhagen, our friend and local guide led us to the absolutely charming Børnenes Boghandel, a brightly lit children's bookstore that made me want to learn Danish on the spot, just so I could take home one of everything on display! We bought an English translation of a Pippi Longstocking book that we read THREE times home on the plane. We also managed to walk out with two small Danish-language books. My friend was kind enough to translate the gist of the first book, but since the second one is all labeled pictures of things relating to dance stars, pop stars, veterinarians and other professions children dream of becoming, Malanga Girl and I are learning some new vocabulary.

Les Vacances!

A post in snapshots.

 St. Jean de Luz, France

 Pamplona, Spain