Globe Corner Blogs

Photo by Kate

A number of times on our vacation last month in Turks and Caicos, we looked around the beach, and saw no one. Really, no one. Just some crabs, and some birds, but that’s it.

We embarked on this vacation with Thoreauesque goals: not so much transcendentalism or  civil disobedience, but just to get the heck away from people. We hardly had to try; even on the main island of Providenciales, all we had to do was avoid Grace Bay, and we found deserted stretches of white sand and strangely blue waters.

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We opted not to stay in Grace Bay, the main resort area with some of the most beautiful beaches on the island, but instead followed our solitary path out to Northwest Point, part of Provo known for the diving and the Marine National Park. There are only two resorts at this end of the island: the super-swank Amanyara and the very mellow, laid-back Northwest Point Resort (where we stayed). At either place, the beaches are empty and great for walking or some low-key snorkeling.

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Abaco Libros y Cafe -- photo by Pat

Where do bookstore workers always go when they’re on vacation? Other bookstores. So when the owners of The Globe Corner Bookstore attended The Hay Literary Festival in Cartageña de Indias, Colombia, Pat Carrier visited Ábaco Libros y Café. He was lucky enough to chat with an owner there and write an article about it for Publishers Weekly. Here is a snippet:

Abaco Libros bookmark

“A highlight of my attendance last year was observing the bustling energy of Ábaco Libros y Café, a small literary bookstore and cafe in the heart of the walled city of Cartageña. The store is near the Theater Heredia, the main venue of the festival—and not so coincidentally near the home of Gabriel García Márquez, the spiritual godfather of the Latin American literary world affectionately known here as Gabo. Throughout the festival weekend, the bookstore was packed with attendees rushing in to buy the next speaker’s books; and its cafe tables were filled with international press interviewing festival writers and drinking café con leche.

This year, I was determined to find out more about bookselling in Colombia. Interviewing one of the two business partners in Ábaco Libros seemed a good start. Néstor Rimoli kindly agreed to such an interview during one of their busiest weekends of the year. “

My first years in Washington, DC, I was skeptical about all the cherry blossom hoopla that swirls around our nation’s capital every spring. We had a cherry tree back home in Ohio, and for the two days its sparse blossoms clung to the knotted limbs, it looked as if a rather pathetic spring had sprung. So why was it such a big deal here?

Though I had avoided the Cherry Blossom Festival initially, frightened off by the rumors of roving hordes of tourists, one year I broke down and traveled to the Tidal Basin in Potomac Park. It was early spring (peak bloom is usually around April 4th), and I was in short sleeves. …And so were the roving hordes of tourists. As I struggled out of the Metro station, carefully tip-toeing around squealing little kids, I began to doubt my choice of Sunday afternoon activities. But as soon as I neared the water my doubt dissolved.

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Ecuador --photo by Meghan

I recently traveled to Ecuador with a friend…and went without a plan.  We decided against one of the more traditional Ecuadorian travel destinations, with saddened hearts, but happy wallets – the Galapagos was just not a budget travel destination.  We decided instead to do an Amazon trek followed by some coastal R&R.  I think I had a more lively time this way. (And I certainly encountered more bugs.)

Fleeing the jungle and heading toward the coast with pre-primed sunburns and enough mosquito bites to look like smallpox victims, we arrived in Manta to the smell of fish factories, and the greeting of a statue in the town’s center – a large tuna and tuna can on a stick like a massive kebab.  A large-ish town filled with swimming pools, fish markets and discotheques, we unfortunately didn’t stay long enough to experience more of Manta’s flavor than that.

Panama hats --photo by Meghan

Early one morning we took our cab driver, Hugo, a short, jovial man, and his yellow mini-SUV taxi shopping in Montichristi.  It is a quaint, white washed and cobblestoned town with a gorgeous cathedral set among hills and has a collective chip on its shoulder. The streets are lined with vendors so unwilling to budge on prices that they would rather see you go across the street than pay them $1 less.  Hammocks, wooden figurines, necklaces, more hammocks and the infamous Montichristi “Panama” hat are all for sale from every Montichristi tiendas. But then again, maybe it has a right to be grumpy.

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Teatro Heredia--photo by Harriet

We have definitely traded the New England chills for the baking sun of Cartageña. Attending Hay Festival Cartageña events last year was a bit of unexpected good fortune as our days in Cartagena coincided with the start of the festival. Sessions of the international literary event at the Teatro Heredia – with its gold ornamentation, heavenly mural on the ceiling, and traditional balcony boxes – were amazing.

A chance to return to the festival easily trumped any other late January travel plans. The walled city’s plazas, fountains, well-preserved buildings, boutique shops, and vendor-lined cobble-stone streets seem as breathtakingly glorious in tonight’s steamy dusk as in the predictable mid-day heat. This historic port flourishes as a cultural travel destination. The vibrancy of daily activity and Caribbean colors are mesmerizing as we wander, pause in sculptured squares, visit a cafe, and plan our route to festival sites.

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Whenever I search for budget accommodations in New York City, I am constantly shocked at the prices. Recently The Pod Hotel in Midtown Manhattan started popping up as a possibility, but I always rejected it. The name kind of scared me and I was just a bit hesitant. For my latest short jaunt to The Big Apple, however, the relative bargain price was just too good to pass up and I booked a single room with a shared bathroom for two nights.

It was great! Highly recommended! What a deal! The Pod Hotel is conveniently located at 230 East 51st Street right next to a wine bar Le Bateau Ivre and is a close walk to the subway. It was easy to find, check-in was a breeze, and most of the elevators worked. When I opened the door to my “pod” I did have a bit of deja-vu as it looked quite a bit like one of the claustrophobic cabins I have shared while traveling by ferries. However this room was bright, spotlessly clean, equipped with a lot of storage space for such a small place, and quiet. Everything that I needed except for a bathroom. Continue Reading »

Ohio - photo by Llalan

Two things you notice about Ohio when you visit the countryside are the sounds and the light. Coming home from a big city, the contrasts are stark.

Sometimes the lack thereof is enough to remind you where you are.  When I lay in bed at night I hear nothing but the ringing in my ears, the speedy rewind of the day’s incidental noises. My apartment in Boston is not in a loud part of town, but this is a different kind of quiet. This is the kind of silence that makes you think about yourself and your family, sleeping in the bedrooms below you, whether you want to or not. A snowplow scrapes along the road and I’m startled awake.

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For the past few weeks, whenever I told a friend that I was heading to Paris for a vacation, inevitably they would ask: “so… what are you going to eat there?” Some vegetarian friends warned with horror stories of growling stomachs, scouring the streets for someplace, anyplace, with even just a salad without a sprinkling of ham. I decided to prep as much as I could for our lacto-ovo diets by making notes of veggie-friendly restaurants on my maps of the city.

As a result, my Michelin Paris par Arrondissements atlas looked like the plan of attack of some crazed general. Scrawls of fine-point red sharpie noting cheese shops overwrote  important tourist locations like Notre-Dame. There was a sub-legend with symbols designating the 1970s sprouts-and-tempeh spots from the foodie restaurants who have a “menu au vert.”  Organic and macrobiotic joints were marked with an OM. Wine bars were heavily asterisked, the decided plan of retreat if it came to that.

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Shark through cage floor - photo by Meghan

It was just one shark at first, then three, then five.  When the day was out, we had seen 11 great whites ranging from 7-16 feet in length, their dorsal and tail fins sticking out of the water like the slate-gray triangles you see in movies. The boat picked up speed and the captain tossed a seal-shaped piece of tire-rubber attached to a rope off of the back of the boat.  A shark took it.  Then he threw out another one, and managed to reel it back it – the number of teeth marks imprinted in the thing was astounding.  After witnessing this act, I decided that it was now or never: I volunteered to be the first (and ultimately the only) one to venture off the boat and into the cage.

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For the last many, many weeks, the most traveling I’ve done is walking home from work. Night falls early in Boston, so on my walk the sky is always as black as a sky can be that hangs over a big city.

Nonetheless, the streetlights never fail to illumine some small wonder. A while ago, after it had rained all day, I walked home in a foul mood, staring at the ground. When I looked up to cross the street, I saw the trees glistening. Each branch on every tree was covered in evenly spaced drops of water. The street lights behind them shone through like giant white orbs held aloft by the dripping trees.

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