A Weekend Escape to Riga, Latvia

Gentle snowflakes touched my brow as I stood proudly next to a Siberian husky. The tranquillity of the white landscape, deep in the Latvian countryside after dog sledding amongst the pines, was peaceful. Or at least I imagined it would be. My recent purchase of a leopard-print ear band matched my gold puffy jacket and tan furry snow boots perfectly. I already had my Instagram image perfected in my head.

After boarding our Ryanair flight at Stansted to Riga, Lizzie and I chatted over a wine and giggled at the fact that we had no idea what to expect at touchdown. My Lonely Planet download failed and out of character I had done no planning. Weather, food, currency, language, tourist sites…I would have to go circa 2003 backpacker days and just wing it as after all, there was no snow on the ground so dog sledding would have to be postponed until next time. The above was just a fantasy yet my outfit remained the same.

Lisa Vecchio, Old Town, Riga

It turns out Riga was pretty cool despite the untraditionally warm weather. In fact, it’s considered one of the most “hipster” cities in all of Europe. Here are some tips on how to make the most of your time if you a have quick escape to Riga.

Eat:

Latvians are passionate people, so this also explains their love of smoked meats, sauerkraut and pickled everything.

Ala: Every person I spoke to elated both the authenticity and fun factor of this traditional folk house. If frequenting over the weekend, go early to snag a bar seat or even better make a reservation to sit at one of their large communal tables. The local beer selection is vast (26 taps!) to compliment the over-sized portions of conventional Latvian cuisine with a modest price tag to match. Stay late as it transforms from eatery to party spot. In addition, the service was fantastic as our bartender and waiter both made sure we had an opportunity to sample all the local delicacies and brews on tap – the garlic bread is extraordinarily different, delicious and a must try.

Platter and craft beer at Ala, Old Town, Riga

Burger Story: I would argue that this is the best burger I’ve had in my life. Hipster with a clubby vibe and unsuspecting, this late night spot is the most Western yet delicious meal I ate my whole time in Latvia.
Šefpavārs Vilhelms (pancake house): Latvians love a self-service buffet and this small pancake eatery is as authentic as it comes. While there were also labels in English to describe every pancake available under the sun, from banana to cottage cheese fillings, I felt the most anticipated option of potato pancake was bland. Then again, I didn’t fully take advantage of the variety of toppings including candied fruit and sour cream, all of which the locals appeared to drown theirs with. Better yet, my entire plate was a mere two Euro.

Šefpavārs Vilhelms, Old Town, Riga

Pancakes at Šefpavārs Vilhelms, Old Town, Riga

Pancake self serve at Šefpavārs Vilhelms, Old Town, Riga

Central Market: In what was once a WWII Zeppelin hanger and considered one of the worlds most modern markets during the 1930’s, this colorful hub where all of the grannies come to gossip is sensation overload. It contains everything you would need, from fruit and veg carts to aged meats to a fishery as pungent as a bad joke. Handicrafts and knick-knacks line the market’s outer walls offering tourists a cheaper alternative to the souvenir shops in Old Town.

Explore:

Riga was described to me as independent, and the embodiment of culture. If you’re good at what you do and good at getting by, you live in Riga. While central Riga does have its fair share of chain stores, Latvia is the type of country where you can certainly score something interesting when supporting independent retailers.

Riga Free Walking Tour: Everyday at noon outside of St. Peter’s Church you’ll be greeted by a bright yellow suitcase to signify you are on the Riga Free Walking tour. Tours vary from exploring Old Town or leaving the touristy cobblestone streets to get out of your comfort zone and into greater Riga to see the Russian and German influence alongside the Art Nouveau architecture. Agita was a wonderful host and I would recommend the tours to anyone – please tip as you feel appropriate.

Riga Free Tour; yellow suitcase

Kalnciema Kvartāls (craft market): Only held once a month, we took the scenic route and walked the 40 minutes out of the city centre to get here. A cab would have been more appropriate to avoid the busy walk amongst the paved highway extension. This market is as authentic as they come. Predominately tourist free, we bundled our scarves up tighter as snowflakes landed across our thick winter coats while we witnessed native sellers showcasing dried meats, liquor and cheese to winter outerwear and Latvian couture. Everyone gladly spoke english once we responded wide-eyed to their enthusiastic explanation of goods on display.

Vendor at Kalnciema Kvartāls (craft market, Riga)

Drink:

As a top eastern European stag-do (bachelor) destination, Old Town Riga has a plethora of late night spots and hostel-hosted pub crawls. Expect Riga Black Balsam, the traditional Latvian herbal liquor mixed with vodka (45% ABV) to play a big part of your night. Also anticipate beautiful Latvian craft beer.

Naughty Squirrel Hostel: We checked into our private room with en-suite and were immediately handed two shots of Balsam. “Tradition,” we were told. So when our pub crawl host introduced himself as Voldemarse, or Volde for short, I knew then that we were going to have a great night. He actually commented that he doesn’t mind that his name is so closely affiliated to the Harry Potter villain Lord Voldemort as at least guests remember his name. 5 pubs later and we were sharing a pint and burger with Volde at the hostel bar.
Aussie Pub Riga: Conveniently situated next to Old Town Hostel, with over 14 Latvian beers on tap served from an old VW van, this small Aussie-themed bar is one of the top spots for beer tasting. In fact, you can sample them all for only 10 Euro. The upstairs is small but cosy and a great place to chill as you can expect the pub crawl to use the ground floor bar as the standard first stop. Don’t let that turn you off from watching biathlon though, the Olympic sport which combines cross country skiing and rifle shooting.

Aussie Pub Riga with 14 Latvian draft beers

Biathlon on TV

Tims Mints, Old Town, Riga

Tims Mints: This local hangout in the heart of Old Town is a hipster haven for locals, craft beer and cocktails. They even have board games and table football. This is the type of place you could quietly chill in the afternoon with some friends or dance the night away as it becomes a popular meeting point in the centre of it all.

So there you have it! Medieval Old Town meets post-communism hipsters. Riga certainly is an easy place to enjoy a weekend away.

The Freedom Monument, Riga, Latvia

Reflecting on the Mountbatten Institute – 10 Year Alumni Anniversary

The ticketing agent wasn’t too impressed as I put my two oversized pieces of luggage on the scale. “They’re overweight. You’ll have to leave some things behind or pay a hefty fee.” This was March 2006 and I was saving any extra penny I had for pints and weekend escapes across Europe. Needless to say my mom and sister walked away with mismatched shoes, college sweatshirts and other items forcibly deemed unnecessary overflowing from their arms after saying a tearful goodbye. My teddybear somehow made the cut though.

I arrived at London’s Heathrow and was instructed to sit on the ground in the arrivals hall with the others who had landed before me while we waited for the rest of the intake to arrive. I was exhausted and nervous. I had no idea what to expect from both the Mountbatten Institute (formerly Mountbatten Programme), nor the other 29 participants who joined me from all corners of the US.

Joanna and I bonded over going to uni in Baltimore. Emily (Z) and I made friends quickly as she was the only volunteer who responded to my invite for a smoke outside to break the ice. I learned it was neither academia nor international work experience that brought her here though. It was simply, Europe!

We were brought by bus to a hostel in Paddington for the first few nights. I was in awe at the amount of luggage Erin, also a fellow New Jerseyian, had managed to bring over. We were going to be in London for a year. Each of us at a different work placement, from mostly prominent banking to only two of us in marketing/special events roles. Erin was fashionably prepared for all of it.

I met Angele on the hostel doorstep later that afternoon. I didn’t believe her when she told me her name. After all I had never met anyone from New Orleans before. Angele, Jaime, Heidi and I walked to Portobello Road the next morning. Flashbacks of my time studying abroad only 3 years prior flooded in and I felt overly confident that I had already mastered London during my first time living there at 19. I was so naive about how this next year would change me forever.

First day in London, Portobello Road; Courtesy of Heidi Kristin.

See, what made this time so much more different than the first time I lived abroad was simply, it was no longer my first time. Sure we were older and more mature. I mean most of us were at least 22! College was in the past and we all had a minimum of a year of professional work experience under our belts. To leave our happy lives of “adulthood” behind meant that there was an additional element that unified us all – we were all true travelers at heart and for many of us this wasn’t our first rodeo abroad.

That night our friendship bonds began to form deeper as we partied into the wee hours at the Hiccup Bar in the hostel’s basement, flirting with foreign boys and searching out new partners in crime. Late that night Emily (S) greeted us with Indiana-based childhood friend Gerrad, as they both were the last of the group to arrive. I knew then that we were onto something good.

Fast friends at the Hiccup Bar, Paddington

Fast friends our first night at the Hiccup Bar, Paddington; Courtesy of Sarah Lauderbach

I started work shortly after at the international leading market research firm Forrester Research. I was an Event Coordinator managing corporate events for the C-level suite where my bosses provided exclusive and customised research consultancy to Europe’s most prominent organisations. I was lucky that my direct supervisor Daniel was one of the original Mountbattens, an English gent sent to NYC years earlier, so his appreciation of a life split between professionalism and adventure was well understood. As part of my role I galavanted around London sourcing amazing gifts to include in our prestigious event invitations such as mini port bottles to invite them to our VIP event in Portugal or tea from Harrods for our annual London event. Later that year after a private tour of Tower Bridge I hosted dinner inside its historical walkways.

While in the Mountbatten Programme we were also working toward our Cambridge-endorsed certificate in international business practice. Throughout the year we were whisked away to attend educational seminars at prominent places such as the UN in London, and other talks in Paris, Oxford and Cambridge; but also participated in team building exercises in Dorset and Brighton. The days were long but the nights were even longer as we surely took advantage of the mini breaks at hand.

Punting in Cambridge; Courtesy of Jamie Bettcher

My most prominent reflection of Mountbatten lives amongst the friendships that were created during post work drinks sipping pints and eating chips for dinner to save our pennies for weekend escapes across Europe. A typical weekend included dancing to our favourite cover band The Fabulous Feedback Band (now replaced by much younger lads) at Leicester Square Irish pub O’Neills on Wardour Street, arriving home at 4 am, taking a 30-minute nap before heading to catch the budget National Express bus only just in time for the cheapest flight of them all at 6 am. We’d arrive in a new city, drop our bags at the hostel and by 9 am were exploring and trying to figure the new foreign place out with a thick hangover to make it extra special. It wasn’t uncommon when returning to London late Sunday night and being asked at customs where I just came from that I’d stare back blankly, the trips started to blur into one.

Mountbattens in Paris; Courtesy of Stephanie Otanez

This was 2006 remember. Likely only a quarter of us were on Facebook. I refused and was still on MySpace. I called my mom weekly from my international calling card and only would SMS (text) my friends in emergency situations. After arriving in a new town, it was an old-school map and an inkling for the closest pub that got us around.

Once we met the South Africans, thanks to an introduction via Angele and her co-worker, weekends were also spent in east London having traditional braiis while sunbathing in their backyard, learning South African longarming dances late in the evening at Zulu’s and sharing our cultures over too many Savannah ciders. We hosted an amazing Halloween party at the Leicester Square Australian pub, Walkabout, to show our South African and English friends what the holiday really is all about. Em (Z) and I kept the tradition for 4 years later in NYC , and they still were they were the most celebrated parties of the year.

Halloween, 2006 at Walkabout Leicester Sq; Courtesy of Jaime Bettcher

Living in communal housing was a challenge as it took college-living to another level. 8 of us shared a 4-bedroom townhouse in between posh Maida Vale and sketchy Kilburn Park. As most of us shared a bedroom with a friend, Emily (Z) and I’s friendship became even closer as we also combined wardrobes and the large bottle of water to quench our frequently hungover thirst was passed between us as a nightly ritual. When it came time to host the other Mountbattens’ for a good old fashioned American bbq, our house, known as the “crack house” (no drugs were involved) was the place to be. It might have been termed that for our residence in proximity to the ghetto, or the pure debauchery that took place regularly. Frankly, our flat ran out of water most mornings, and Em Z and I, the last to wake up, would flip a coin on who would get to shower before work.

“Blade” and “Bullet” celebrating at the flat after returning from Paris; Courtesy of Andy Cervantes

From March 2006-March 2007 I was lucky to not only experience more of London and the UK than ever before, but also 13 other countries. We cheered steins at Oktoberfest in Munich, ate baguettes under the Eiffel Tower, hiked under olive groves in Cinque Terra, and bathed in ancient outdoor baths in Budapest. We ate perogee in Kraków, smoked a spliff in Amsterdam and sat for hours trying as many beers as we could at a small ancient beer house in Antwerp. And the above was just touching the surface.

Pretzel twins, Salzburg, Austria; Courtesy of Jaime Bettcher

Being a Mountbatten alumni makes me so proud. I was lucky to move to the NYC area upon returning to the States, along with many of my closest friends. With one of my dearest Mountbatten friends, Jaime, we have mutually made it our mission to keep traveling somewhere new in the world each year together. The bond that you have with a fellow Mountbatten is for life, and still very true today. Once a Mountbatten, always a Mountbatten as the saying goes. It truly is a global lifeline and I’ve met fellow Mountbattens while traveling in Australia, Thailand, Japan, California and South Africa. We are travelers and we are one.

On March 6, 2006 I boarded a flight from Philly to London not knowing what the opportunity would provide. Today is March 6, 2016 and I am writing this on a flight from Philly to London to return to my home now. Ten years later to the day and I am living my dream back in London after a few detours in NYC and Australia getting to know the world beyond Europe. I’m lucky that many of my friends in London today are former Mountbattens, and wherever I go “home” in the world…be it London, Australia or NYC, Mountbatten unifies us all. I feel extremely lucky and grateful for the opportunity.

Mountbattens reunited exactly 10 years later to the day: Courtesy of Angele Cory

The Gambrinus’ Stein (Lille, France)

We find ourselves in the small city of Lille in the French Flanders, far enough north to neighbor the Belgian border and thick with Flemish influence; food and architecture included.

Nicole Vecchio Bryce and street art; Rue de la Monnaie, Lille, France

“What do you mean you’re going to drink beer and not wine,” my mother questioned. “I thought you were going to France?”

Within the proximity of Lille (pronounced lee-eel) there is a growing trend of microbreweries and beer fooding i.e. beer pairing is a very real thing. We might as well be in Belgium. But we are not. My sister and I dash through customs at London’s St. Pancreas International and zip through the Chunnel into northern France. Only a mere hour and a half later we are on Lille’s doorstep. It’s noticeably colder than London and we immediately complain.

Rue de la Monnaie, Lille, France

Luckily the city is quite small and manageable for anyone easy on their feet. Within 10 minutes walk we arrive at our hotel in Vieux Lille (Old Lille). This is where things start to appear picturesque and around every corner I squeal “OMG, but isn’t it just so cute?!” My sister Nicole only then grasps that we are in a foreign country and English isn’t the first language. I greet the receptionist with a confident yet mispronounced bonjure and after entering the smallest elevator on earth we land in our immaculate room. Oh Europe I’ve missed you!

Aux Moules, Lille, France

Welsh rarebit, Porthos, Lille, France

Window shopping for sweets, Vieux Lille

We only had a few hours to kill before our grand beer adventure but managed to, what we had initially assumed, see it all. In Vieux Lille we mastered the narrow cobblestone streets and took random turns trying to get lost but actually found our way amongst the cute local shops, craft beer sellers and row upon row of exquisite restaurants. We rode bikes through the windy garden paths of Jardin Vauban, sipped Belgian beers alfresco in La Grand Palais square, and snacked on local specialities like beef tartare, Welsh rarebit and waffles with Nutella. Yum!

At 4 pm we stood in front of the tourist office in anticipation to meet our tour, the beer tasting treasure hunt The Gambrinus’ Stein, organized through the craft beer tasting tourism group L’Echappee Biere. Young Aurelie and her companion Olivier greeted us and whisked us away to our first stop, the unassuming Theatre Cafe, to explain how the game would work. The bad news, Nik and I were the only people on the tour so we weren’t going to make friends as we had hoped. The good news, we couldn’t lose as we had no competitors!

The Gambrinus’ Stein, Beer Treasure Hunt

We were handed a booklet that explained it all. 4 bars, 3 hours and a series of clues to get us from one to the next. The clues weren’t googlable and were intended to have us experience the city by observing the elements so easily overlooked when just passing by. This is what made it both interesting, and yet so damn hard! We snorted with confidence that 3 hours would be a breeze, yet 3 hours and 15 minutes later I was texting Aurelie that we couldn’t locate the final bar.

In addition to the clues such as “once on the square that makes you cry when you cook, keep going straight. If you see a beer shop you are following the correct path,” there were also hints, historical notes and riddles. We would receive extra credit for social sharing photos of key points of interest (and smart marketing on their behalf), and once we made it to the bar would hand over our ticket to the barman who was already expecting us and complete a questionnaire on the given beer color, country of origin, ABV and style. Clever little game don’t you think?

La Grand Palais, Lille, France

Into early evening it grew dark and the game intensified as we peered at etchings in the architecture, storefront names and church nuances. But it was fun! At the final bar Olivier met us to go through our answers and rewarded us points, as if we had been competing against others. It was cute and humble and as we sat and chatted about where we should go eat charcuterie and sample some French wines (heaven forbid) I fell even more in love with this small little company of friends who invented a game to educate tourists on not just their city but the world of beer that is so prevalent in it. Their website states, “there are more than 40 breweries in the Nord Pas de Calais, and approximatively 150 in Belgium.”

Olivier handed over our “winning” prize of a large quadruple Trappist. Aurelie shortly followed with a second bottle, saying there was one for each of us. When we tried to resist that it was all just too much, she replied “for my bad English.” Her English was great by the way, and we even appreciated that our booklet was in English as well.

Grand Place, Vieux Lille

For 25 euro what an amazing journey. We were educated, awarded beer, and taken to some amazing, unique and colorful bars that we would have so easily overlooked if not had been recommended by locals. I won’t spoil it for you, but I would definitely recommend you give it a go next time in Lille although I’m still unsure if Gambrinus ever found his stein!

We ended the evening with the most exquisite steak with bearnaise, frittes and a cheese and charcuterie board at La Part de Anges followed by a few glasses of burgundy at neighboring wine bar Monsieur Jacques with a big smile and a day well accomplished.

Steak and Frites at La Part des Anges, Lille

Uncovering an England I Never Knew

So what’s it like to be back in London? This loaded question keeps being asked yet I’ve quietly gone about my transition landing in the Big Smoke undetected as if I were a phantom. No Facebook broadcasting, Instagram snapshotting or even blog writing. Gasp. But that doesn’t mean I’m holed up in seclusion exactly.

Because honestly, being back in London simply just feels like home. I feel normal as if I haven’t lived away from the US for close to five years and on the other side of the world gallivanting around the South Pacific.

Strangely, for the first time in all my times moving abroad, I don’t have the overwhelming anxiety and confusion over moving somewhere new. There is no culture shock, which even surprised myself. It’s such a massively refreshing feeling to know where to go and what to do. I know to stand on the right on the escalators, how to weave in and out of chaotic commuter people traffic, which sandwiches at Pret are my favorite and which ready-meal curries to avoid. I was elated last weekend to be even more in my element at Hawker House, a foodie night market with craft beer and hipsters in East London.

Street Feast, Hawker House

I’m heading up a marketing team at a tech start-up in trendy Richmond, and enjoying the fact that after 8.5 years with one company I’ve landed in a role that ticked all my boxes: start-up, newly created position, leadership opportunity, fun culture, technology focused and international. This means I’ll get to travel to see family and friends in New York more regularly and continue to go exploring in Asia and beyond.

I’ve taken the leap as an ‘adult’ to live alone in a one-bedroom flat in my old, posh stomping grounds of Nottinghill. This is the hardest transition of all as I’m used to my social calendar being filled months in advance and friends to dine with all nights of the week. With a long commute and late working hours coupled with my poor cooking skills I’ve decided in such a multi-national city that I should be living with flat mates again to meet people and explore new areas. I’ve landed on Clapham Junction, a middle-class neighborhood south of the river that will get me to work, the city or my friends in East London in about 20 minutes. It’s full of restaurants, nightlife and boutiques and even better, infiltrated with Aussies so I may just feel even more at home once I move at the end of December.

I’m also experiencing a very strange gravitational pull toward France. This happened while visiting Paris again recently in August 2014, and then I fell in love with Bordeaux in July 2015. As I begin to learn more about French wine I find myself planning on how to get to each unique region over time. Only two weeks ago I found myself back in Paris with two Australian friends hopping between arrondissements, sipping wine, eating fondue and waiting in an extremely long line to have my breath taken away at the magnificent view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. I never expected to say that it was so worth it.

Lisa, Anna & Anthony @ Eiffel Tower

Eiffel Tower Lookout

In fact, I have a feeling that Paris will substitute what Sydney was for me in Australia; An opportunity to jump over every few months and catch up with an American friend just living the life like a local. We’ll see. For now though, I’m already booked to head over to Lille in January and Lyon to taste the wines of Cotes de Rhone in May.

So as a newly arrived expat I’d only be staying true to form if I devised my ‘must-do’ list or what others would deem as a bucket list. So here it is:

Uncover an England I’ve never experienced before
Hot-air balloon over Cappadocia, Turkey
See the Northern Lights and Fjords in Norway
Go to the Blue Lagoon in Iceland
Eat dumplings in Hong Kong
Drive down the coast of Ireland
Eat kimchi in Seoul
Learn French/Italian wine
Create amazing, lasting friendships
See family/friends more regularly

Sailing Croatia: Dubrovnik to Split

Prior to sailing the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia I had visions of wild nights dancing on a yacht with drink in hand while lounging in the Adriatic by day, the warm sun on my face and my feet overhanging a round floaty staring out at ancient ruins. The challenge of fulfilling this prophecy, or so I thought, was that I had a hard timeline of pre-35 years old.

I envisioned sunbathing, day drinking, dance parties and rambunctious nights with friendly strangers. But somehow venturing to Croatia got pushed back on my bucket list each year due to Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, America and others. I wasn’t getting any younger but I’m not complaining because this year was going to be my year.

But I also had fears. I read review after review in preparation about Sail Croatia, Katarina Line and group bookings on Busabout and Contiki. It wasn’t just the age cut-off that made me nervous but realistically the demographic for the party boats are 18-year-old gap year students and immature Aussies their first time abroad. There were rumors of theft, 24-hour raves and claustrophobic, stifling hot cabins below deck with a mere porthole. My dream vacation and what was on offer were seriously disconnected.

But when it came time to prepare, my agenda slowly evolved from dance party to luxury yacht. Traveling with my sister made it easy to compromise as well. At first we said that a private bathroom was a must, of course. Then the cabin must be on the deck, not below. Oh yes, and air-conditioning was a requirement as it will be about 104°F (40°C). So, we unintentionally priced ourselves out of the backpacker options and found ourselves in an A+ cabin on a 5-night Dubrovnik to Split cruise with Katarina Line unknowingly upgraded to the brand new deluxe yacht M.V. Admiral. I didn’t complain.

I then fell in love with Croatia. It’s medieval architecture and passionate culture. The friendliness of the people, their excellent English and hospitality thrive on tourism, which meant that service was exquisite and opportunities to engage endless. “We’re not yelling we’re just Croatian,” explained Miho, our complimentary tour guide who navigated us through the walled city of Dubrovnik, stopping every few minutes to explain the culture, architecture and history, including the horror of the very recent Croatian War of Independence in the early 90’s.

Musicians Dubrovnik Wall

Dubrovnik terracota roofs and laundry

Dubrovnik tour guide Miho

The food and wine was simple but memorable. Each day was an indulgence, getting lost in the local community within the narrow cobblestone streets and stopping every few hours to try another wine and nosh on some bread, cheese or pasta. Italy’s influence was never forgotten. Also was the presence of its other neighbors like Bosnia and Serbia and one of our favorite meals was at Bosnian restaurant Taj Mahal. It was tucked away on a quiet stone street in Old Town, Dubrovnik yet the only sound was the queue to get a table to try the traditional bamija (veal stew simmered with okra, tomatoes and garlic) and the Cheerful Bosnian (veal stuffed with vegetables and cheese.)

Dubrovnik old town steps

The sun-faded terracotta roofs of Dubrovnik overlay the old city within a fortress created by century aged city walls. Everything is stone, the houses, the streets, the walls, the shops. It has seen many battles and yet looks effortlessly rebuilt to maintain its native charm, keeping tradition with every new burnt orange tile replacing a bombed out rooftop. At night the squares come alive with traditional music, as both tourists and locals sip Ožujsko beers and wait for the sun to set late in the evening to escape the scorching summer heat.

Dubrovnik terracotta rooftops

Dubrovnik Church

We found refuge in D’vino Wine Bar our first night. It’s here that we first learned about Croatian wines, the forefront of every meal. Our tasting flight of reds included the local grape plavac mali, and the 3 variations of plavac, postup, and dingac – each named and uniquely produced based on the position their vines grow, changing from light and fruity to full bodied and sweet as the sun reflects off the rocky coastline and Adriatic sea. After walking the city walls we thankfully relaxed in Buza Bar, a cliffside bar of tourists and locals sipping cocktails amongst the rocky coastal boulders and taking refuge in the accompanying sea.

Buza Bar, Dubrovnik

We stopped off our second night in what is jokingly termed the New York of Croatia. Trstenik is a small fishing village of approximate 56 people, and that’s during the high season. Sadly a local had set fire to the vineyards in the surrounding hillsides and tragically this village will be devastated for tourism for the next 15 or so years. Nik and I stopped in its small, family owned wine store šunj vina to taste their famed plavac mali and purchased a few mementos to contribute to the economic disaster.

Trstenik local fishermen

Wine tasting at šunj vina

Trstenik seaside

The piping hot sun would slowly roast our bodies while relaxing on the boat’s top deck, my skin darkening a new shade as each new day passed. After lunch we would pull into a new quiet alcove, the turquoise water so crystal clear you could see the dead coral and black sea urchins on the bottom while taking a welcome relief from the fiery heat. When it came time to dock in a new port midafternoon the Captain would park his shiny toy, carefully maneuvering next to the last ship to arrive, creating a massive obstacle course. Guests were expected to, what I termed “walk the plank,” or scarily step over the massive gap from ship to ship to reach the port. There were stories confirmed that people from time to time have missed the gap (likely due to being heavily intoxicated) but regardless, it was always a bit nerve racking and frankly not disabled friendly.

In the small, fishbone-shaped town of Korčula, the much disputed birth place of Marco Polo, we were introduced to the island’s native white wine varieties pošip and grk, in which the latter’s vines are so unique being all female it can’t replicate itself. We climbed the narrow, wooden ladder to the top of an ancient tower to sip cocktails at Massimo, attended an unimpressive (due to the lack of wine education involved) sit down wine tasting at an upmarket hotel, and then attempted to party with the backpackers at a disco leaving disappointed with a Croatian pita kebab in hand. I uncovered then that my favorite pastime from this trip so far was just aimlessly wondering and getting lost amongst the antiquated streets by day.

Massimo Cocktail Bar, Korcula

Cute cafe Korcula

Marco Polo, Korcula

Beyonce put Hvar on the map with her visit in 2011 making this small seaside town the “it” holiday destination for jetsetters. Private luxury yachts, world class cuisine and nightlife and a view from the top of the Spanish Fortica would make any friend ooze with jealousy. We found haven in Wine Bar Pršuta 3 to the sound of rock music and free wifi while dabbling in their best pošip and later nibbling on Dalmatian prosciutto, olives and fresh seafood.

Hvar harbour

Top of Spanish Fortica, Hvar

View from Adriana Hotel Hvar

Our journey ended in Split, the second largest city in Croatia where we were told by a stout 9-year-old boy that we could not pass through while navigating the ancient rubble of Diocletian’s Palace as a casual game of soccer amongst the local boys was being held. We devoured cone after cone of gelato, tasted variations of olive oil at Uje Oil Bar, had the best pistachio gnocchi of my life at modern bistro Bokeria and then mingled amongst the ivy and graffiti with regulars at the funky bar Academia Club Ghetto. The service, cheese selection and wine list at Paradox Wine & Cheese Bar was unparalleled.

Cute puppies, Split, Croatia

Our boutique accommodation, a 25-minute stroll from the port, at Divota Apartment Hotel was the quiet serenity we needed to close out the trip. We rented eco bikes for the day, and squealed with glee as we peddled a few rounds then zoomed off on our motorized cycle, speeding up hills as we wove through the thick trees of Marjan Forest Park and passed renaissance hermitage caves built into the seaside cliffs. Far from modest sunbathers were scattered along the rocky coast, resting on any flat surface to embrace the warm summer sun and refreshing pools along the bay.

Diocletian’s Palace

Locals sunbathing in Marjan Forest Park

renaissance hermitage caves, Marjan Forest Park

Departing from Split airport, the carnage of the party boats was present in every corner of the small international terminal, as hungover bodies were strewn across the terminal gate floors and the line to purchase a simple bottle of water was a 25 minute wait. It was then that I reflected back on the M.V. Admiral and smiled with no regrets.

Bordeaux, My Gastronomic Adventure

But why Bordeaux? This was the response I received when going over my itinerary for #Eurotrip2015. London was a no brainer and Croatia has been on my bucket list for years. But as more and more people questioned my French destination of choice I was starting to get nervous that I had overlooked something obvious. Was Bordeaux no good? I mean sure, I much prefer Burgundy wines but then again I’m sure Bordeaux won’t be that hard for me to swallow.

Katrina Miranda in Bordeaux

Is it an oxymoron to say the city is both medieval and young at the same time? It’s active, vibrant and lively contrasted against dark ancient stoned walls, gothic churches and quiet narrow alleyways. Katrina described it as monotone: brown river, cream buildings, grey cobblestones. But it’s 9 pm in the summer and there is no sign of dusk. University students quickly scoot by on skateboards and sit outside smoking cigarettes while drinking espresso at cafes next to tattoo parlours, vintage shops and guitar stores.

Espresso in Bordeaux

Église Notre-Dame

Bell Tower Bordeaux

Apollo Cafe Bordeaux

Bordeaux – Statue à l’Esplanade Des Quinconces

Rue Sainte-Catherine, one of the largest pedestrian-only shopping streets in all of Europe is its main artery running through its centre. Cheap city bikes can be rented from all corners of the architectural haven and are used by both locals and tourists to navigate the shadowy historic maze. It’s a very liveable place for sure.

Both a city and a region, Bordeaux provides fresh, delectable food and well-produced wine to every doorstep. On the Garonne River’s left bank sits Medoc, it’s gravel and clay producing deep, full bodied cabernet sauvignons while on it’s right the clay and limestone in St. Emilion produce juicy, fruit-forward merlot. My glass is never empty and then I understand. Bordeaux is my gastronomic adventure.

Garonne River Bordeaux

The oysters are so fresh you order them by size – medium, large or extra-large. There is only one option: raw. The seabass comes with its head intact but with the right movement the flesh softly falls from the bone while the salmon carpaccio melts on my tongue. The cheese is aged and my monsieur croquet strong and heavy, the traditional way. The pate is thick and rich and the generous sliced baguettes are endless. There is no Maille mustard to accompany it. That’s only for Paris and we’re in Bordeaux after all. My favourite meals were the chevre salad with honey and walnuts while dining al fresco at Karl and beef tartare with watermelon and roasted tomatoes at the modern French bistro Le Chien De Pavlov.

Lisa Vecchio @ Karl, Bordeaux; Courtesy of Katrina Miranda

Le Bistro Régent

Chèvre Salad @ Karl

The only way to truly experience it was to aimlessly wonder and get lost amongst the streets, stopping every few hours to try a new delicacy and to sip a new wine while watching the locals carry on with their lives. The second day we rented bikes, which gave us the same freedom to explore but allowed us to delve deeper into the city streets, to the botanical gardens, and over the bridge to the city outskirts.

Getting lost

Le Lion – Bordeaux

Botanical Gardens – Bordeaux

Isabel from Bordeaux Tourism was friendly and helpful and booked us on a wine river cruise later that evening. It was like a disorganized frat party for old people – chaos to consume as much wine as possible while Jerome the wine maker from Chateau Madran rambled on in French and we sat observing with our crusty bread and orange cheese just taking it all in, not understanding a word.

Jerome from Chateau Madran

And then there was the highlight, Rustic Vines and the Famous Monk Tour the following day. Run by two Kiwi’s, Scottie the hottie educated us on the 60 appellations of Bordeaux, the rigid rules on how to blend the wine and the 10,000 plus chateaus in the region. We visited the picturesque medieval town of St. Emilion, mingled with Hugo in the cellar of Chateau La Gaffeliere to learn about French oak and sampled Grand Cru Classe from Aussie Gregg at Bordeaux Classique wine store. Richard, the only Australian chateau owner in Bordeaux confirmed that the French don’t believe in ghosts so he wasn’t concerned for his 15^th century property Chateau Melliac. In his garden we picnicked on melon, jamon, cheese and macaroons. Richard told us he used think that Australian wine was everything until the French showed him their art and he had never looked back. I now feel way more confident knowing what to look for when choosing French wine.

Scottie the hottie

Richard of Chateau Melliac

Katrina @ Chateau Melliac

Chateau La Gaffeliere

I almost could have had one more day. Eating my croissant while waiting for my flight to London I realised then that Bordeaux was it, the grown up Europe I had been envisioning. Bordeaux left me with a smile. It’s safe, I felt confident, people were friendly, there was no crime or begging plus it is a foodie paradise. I would recommend to anyone to have a visit.

Lisa Vecchio, St. Emilion; Courtesy of Katrina Miranda

Everything in the world can be on your way

I’ve always been envious of those who have literally traveled around the world. You too likely know someone daring who’s done it. They buy a ‘round the world’ ticket that entitles them to travel to a pre-specified number of continents, then a specific city on each continent, to be used in one direction over a maximum length of time. This type of ticket offers freedom to those people who have time at a very affordable cost. The benefits to an independent traveler mean that they can ‘generally’ stay for as long as they like, move on when ready, and can decide when and how to make the most of their destinations.

Last month I circumvented the globe. I can assume this counts too, but it wasn’t your typical trip or initially intended to be as such. I reclaimed my old haunts while in London, sipped wine in Paris, explored architecture in Oxford before a 12 hour stint in NYC to grab a pint and a snuggle with old friends. I moved on to Charlotte to celebrate my sisters wedding then relaxed on the beaches outside of Charleston before an afternoon of fine dining over lunch with the ladies back in Manhattan. My long hauls took me from Melbourne to London (via Dubai) to New York then back to Melbourne (via LA) and alas, global circumference.

Sitting on multiple planes (for an entire day at times) during this 3 week whirlwind of a holiday sure gave me a lot of time to think. Here are my 5 biggest reflections while circumventing the globe:

Australia really is really, really far away. But it’s not the distance I took note of, by now I’m used to the flight time. What was more interesting is that for the first time since living here for close to 3.5 years the segregation of Australia to the rest of the world became prevalent. I was clueless that I missed out on major global media scandals, was reminded of diversity walking through the streets of New York and how few Americans I encounter living in Australia compared to the constant sound of a hard ‘R’’ that accompanies the American tourists in central London.
Don’t let jetlag control you; jetlag will control you. Despite a motto of ‘just ignore it and it will go away’, jetlag really is the pits. And whilst I was in and out of cities faster than being able to unpack a bag, there was no time to waste on an extra nap or late sleep in. Once you throw a few wines into the mix your body clock is even more thoroughly confused. If you can ride the jetlag wave, all power to you.
Frequent Flyer Status is holy. In a world where I’ve achieved One World Gold status, which entitles me to the business lounge, free food and alcohol, free Wi-Fi, priority check in, priority baggage and occasional upgrades, flying a non-partner airline is like going back in time. The disappointment, as self-entitled as it may sound, to have to pay for wi-fi while waiting to board a flight or annoyingly wait in a ridiculously long and disorderly queue makes me cringe at the thought. I can at least say I witnessed non-Gold perks during all the flights it took to obtain it in the first place.
Waiting to write drains the intensity. I have pages and pages of notes from my trip encapsulating the emotion I felt when stepping outside Victoria Station for the first time in 8 years to seeing my nephew for the first time in 8 months. Unfortunately, there’s too much to say and sometimes it feels all too late. Next time, I’m writing to you on the go.
The world really is a small place, and quite accessible if you make the opportunity to see it all! It is possible to fly around the world – even if you’re not on a yearlong journey with a backpack strapped to your back. And while I’m still envious of those who take an extensive amount of time off to discover the world in one pre-paid for direction, I’ve also discovered that hopping over to London before my trips to New York, or maybe somewhere else in Europe is quite do-able. I don’t need to wait another 8 years to see the places I love.

Catching up with an old friend in the rain outside the Louvre, Paris.

Yes Please! An Evening of Beer and Cheese

Shout from the rooftops, it’s Good Beer Week! The much anticipated annual event offers hundreds of food and beer pairings, educational classes, tap take overs and more spread across the city. Without spoiling myself too much I attended Yes Please! An Evening of Beer and Cheese at Mr. Wolf in St. Kilda.

I’ll be honest though, I signed up for this event after one too many pints at an Irish pub in South Yarra based on the loose requirements of a cost under $50 and inclusion of cheese. It was advertised as pairing of Italian cheese and beer, and my expectations were low. I know nothing about the craft beer scene in Italy, and despite having an affinity for cheese, it’s strictly superficial. I was even less impressed initially with the 6 pm start, restricting any opportunity for dinner prior, and finally 30 minutes later we got our first sampling. Grouped at high tables seating 8, my friend and I joked with the strangers how the absence of dinner coupled with the aroma of pizza coming from the dining room was a ploy to direct us to eat in the restaurant post event.

But we were wrong. Despite a disorganized introduction from Will Studd, representative from Calendar Cheese, and what appeared to be animosity, although some suspected it was playful banter, with Leonardo Di Vincenzo from Birra Del Borgo, when our first platter was presented to the table we couldn’t believe our eyes. I’m not a fan of sharing at these types of events, portions can often be cheap and you end up politely giving the last piece to a stranger despite secretly wanting it for yourself. This was not the case however, the value for the cost was applauding.

We began with Mauri ‘Bontazola’ Gorgonzola Piccante Pasturo, Italy and Mauri “Bonta della Bonta’ Dolce Pasturo, Italy, both coupled with Birra Del Borgo ‘Reporter’. In simple terms, we tried two gorgonzola’s, the first being harder, more blue with an intensity in the flavour compared to the ‘dolce’ which was softer and smooth. They both were a great accompaniment to the tobacco porter, which we learned basically contained fermented tobacco, dipped into the brew like a giant tea bag to infuse the flavour.

The Mauri ‘Cave Ripened’ Tallegio Pasturo, Italy, is a cheese matured in caves in the Italian Alps, a very rare occurrence and the Mauri family being one of the only ones left doing so. The cool and humid environment allows for bacteria to grow on the outside, making the rind yeasty in flavour but edible once washed. It was so creamy, coupled with the imperial pilsner ‘My Antonia’. I loved the sweet beginning and the bitter aftertaste. This pairing was also my favourite of the day, but it was still a very hard decision. At this stage we reached the half-way point and I was already feeling my stomach stretch. All the sudden I began to regret my snarl remarks about minimal breadsticks at the start and skipping dinner.

A special guest appearance from Giorgio Cravero from Cravero cheese had the group educated about parmesan. The Cravero family of the mountains of northern Italy has been producing parmesan since 1855 and is now in its fifth generation. He told us that out of only 370 producers, 90% are just average. This is coming from a cheese predominately consumed only in Italy. While the cheese we tasted was aged 29 months, this is fairly old for a parmesan. Wrapped in foil so it didn’t oxidize, we were instructed to squeeze then taste, although for most of us the cheese was quite dense and resulted in nothing. Giorgio recommended parmesan goes great with a sparkling white wine, but I found the American pale ale, ‘ReAle’, really drinkable with its caramel malts offering a sweetness mixed with a spicy and bitter finish.

We finished with Il Forteto Pecorino Toscano DOP Stagionato Tuscany, Italy coupled with ‘ReAle Extra’, an IPA and Antica Formaggieria Pecorino Romano Lazio, Italy with ‘Hoppy Cat’ Cascadian dark ale. Pecorino Romano is claimed to be the original cheese, before parmesan. This is because pecorino comes from sheep, and sheep have come before cows. All pecorino’s are made in Sardinia, in southern Italy. They were both big and salty, like a gulp from the ocean with a bit of stink to it and the Hoppy Cat was much lighter in colour than expected, a dark ale rather than a black IPA.

I walked into Mr. Wolf hungry with small expectations in regards to the beer but waddled out with an appreciation for new cheese and hand on the back to Birra Del Borgo who make not only hip labels, but stellar beers.

Anywhere but Europe

I made a promise to myself when I moved home from London in May 2007. I’m not allowed to return to Europe until I’ve seen more of the world that frankly, isn’t Europe.

I broke that promise in 2008 went I went for one last trip over to Greece but it was also the first time I stepped foot on Asian soil while briefly on the Turkish island called Bodrum, so I figure technically it was okay.

The following year I went to Thailand. That was my first Southeast Asian experience complete with Full Moon parties on the beach, $5 massages and picturesque long tail boat rides. It tore at my soul when I spoke to the bazillionth backpacker we met and realized I wasn’t doing the typical Southeast Asian backpacker circuit. Up until that point though, I didn’t even know it was a thing. I had no idea that Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Indonesia, Vietnam – these are the playground for mid twenty somethings who had saved up all their money at a real job to spend it all on a 6 month adventure having no job. I had 10 days. Hello Thailand, good-bye Asia.

In 2010 I ventured to Australia for the first time. I didn’t even want to. Australia felt safe to me, and easy. Almost as easy as just going back to London. Somewhere that I knew at some point in my life I’d go and wasn’t sure if it needed to be now. But, my travel buddy friend was going, so it was go or go somewhere else alone and at that point in my life I was too intimidated to travel solo. In that short trip though I unexpectatdly fell in love with Sydney nightlife and Queensland weather. I knew it was the right next step for me so less than a year later I moved to Australia and have been here for almost 3 years since.

In that time, the 7 years since I left London, I have declined offers of weddings in Tuscany and festivals in Sweden. But to make up for it I stayed true to my vow, and maybe even a little off course, to only travel on this side of the world. That has allowed me to adventure across Australia, to New Zealand and back on multiple occasions, as well as Japan, Vietnam, Fiji, South Africa, and soon to be Bali and the Gili Islands of Indonesia.

But despite all the places the world can take you to my heart sometimes just yearns for Europe. It aches for the dark pubs of London and those tempting english accents, as well as for the vineyards in France, the warehouse parties of Berlin and the beers of Antwerp.

I bit the bullet and said screw my rule; the world is small enough to not have to make geographic limitations. This August I’m offically going back to Europe!

For Jake

Lisa & Jake, New Farm Park – Brisbane

One of my dear flatmates for the last year has just moved away from Brisbane for the first time to travel Europe. I couldn’t be more proud and excited for him, knowing how the unforeseen will shape his life forever. In a recent conversation raving madly “but he’s only 22,” I squealed, my mom reminded me that I was only 19 the first time I roamed Europe by myself – and ten years later am still at it.

If I can offer any of my personal experiences to my soon-to-be worldly friend, here are some pointers:

Firstly, pack only what you can carry. Europe’s a bitch of cobblestone streets. Go with the backpack wheely – the ultimate combo!
Try the local food; even the weird stuff, even if just for a bite.
Meet the locals; booze usually works. They also appreciate small attempts at speaking their language. Again, booze usually works – at the least it’s entertaining.
Bring a good book. When your done leave it behind for someone else – scribble something mysterious inside the front cover.
Carry a pen and notepad – then use them. You won’t regret looking back on your words.
Stay connected – at least so they know you’re alive. Thank G for Skype and Facetime!
Bring a good camera and a cheap one. Chances are you’ll lose one, and likely will be too lazy to bring the good one out.
Stay at hostels with bars; it makes mingling easier – there’s always someone who’s thirsty and down for a chat.
Still need a friend? Do the classic bum a cig move – always a conversation starter but remember backpackers are stingy with their cigs so throw a Euro out there as a piece offering.
Pretend to be someone else, just for one night. Alfredo perhaps?
Don’t forget to stay true to yourself – you realize after the above fails.

Have no regrets! You wont remember feeling lonely, scared, defeated, tired when you eventually come home – only the amazing people, places, food, adventures you’ve had – exactly as I’ll remember you and Sam!

729 Crew – Sunday Afternoon Bliss

These Two Eyes!

Welcome to These Two Eyes! Follow along for travel, food and experience recommendations across the world!

Europe

A Weekend Escape to Riga, Latvia

Reflecting on the Mountbatten Institute – 10 Year Alumni Anniversary

The Gambrinus’ Stein (Lille, France)

Uncovering an England I Never Knew

Sailing Croatia: Dubrovnik to Split

Bordeaux, My Gastronomic Adventure

Everything in the world can be on your way

Yes Please! An Evening of Beer and Cheese

Anywhere but Europe

For Jake

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