The comfy traveller's diaries

Category: Uncategorized

  • London and I

    London and I

    And where to eat delicious Peking Duck

    London and I have a very difficult relationship. It’s been a rocky road. At the same time, I have very strong bonds and deep friendships with people who live there, and this is the main reason I started coming to London again in the recent years; because in other regards London feels like a distant relationship that ended in unfinished conversations. But as with all failed relationships, things happen for a reason and to teach us lessons in life. And in the end, all lessons take us forward and let us grow. London and I were just never meant to be, no matter how thankful I am today for the lessons I learned.

    When I come to London now, I of course choose to see its pretty and glamurous side only. And pretty it can be!

    Harrods dressed in Christmas lights

    I really must give it to London; it can be so charming and over-the-top. Nothing really compares. December is for sure one of my favourite times to see London, probably the favourite time. The crisp air and overheated stores, the sumptuous décor and iconic Christmas lighting give it that very special touch. I can’t help but find it exceptionally Christmassy; it just has this very special allure.

    Strolling down Regents Street or browsing through glossy, high-end things at Selfridges, I simply love it. Have you ever been to Fortnum and Mason’s Food Hall? Or the one in Harrods? It’s breathtaking. Not that I am into Christmas pudding, but the sumptuous packages just captivate me so much. No one overdoes Christmas quite as well as the British!

    I think it is the mesmerizing atmosphere that fascinates me the most. While I normally find the dark days in the Northern hemisphere depressing, they make London extra special for me. You can be out and about in a busy street in the dark at 3 p.m. and it is charming and nostalgic, even when it rains.

    When I go to visit London now, I am very selective about the parts of it I want to see. I only stay in the boroughs arranged around Hyde Park, because they remind me of the good times we had. Hyde Park was always there for me. We hung out a lot, and it never judged. I started running in Hyde Park, 20 kg overweight from countless late nights in the library over the years, in red leggings I found in Zara on sale. It sends shivers down my spine when I think of that outfit with the blessing of hindsight, but my skinny student budget only went so far.

    Hyde Park in autumn colours.

    Hyde Park connects all my favourite places in this city, starting from the Greek Cathedral of Hagia Sofia in Bayswater where I used to attend Saturday evening prayers to High Street Kensington on the other end. I still love taking the double decker buses just for sightseeing along its bounds and I would even dare to go as far as to say that I miss Hyde Park.

    Watching its enormity from a double-decker bus is so much prettier and chill than squeezing into the tube sniffing commuters’ armpits and pushing the bounds of my germaphobia. 

    When I come to London now, I never stay long. Because, in keeping with its personality, it remains unattainable for most, and I like to keep it classy. After all, I have moved on since student days and like to stay in comfort and style. I come to spend quality time with the people I love. As with any harsh environment, the bonds you forge in it are there to last a lifetime. My friends and I, we went through a lot together and I must see them once in a while to replenish on love.

    This time, my best friend and I treated ourselves to a wonderful Peking Duck experience at the Min Jiang Restaurant in the Royal Garden Hotel on High Street Kensington, overlooking my trusted old companion, Hyde Park. It was delicious and definitely on another level compared to our student days when we could hardly even afford egg fried rice in China town.

    Sumptuous display of peking Duck.

    These days, I always make a point of stopping at Whole Foods as well, one of my absolute favourite supermarkets in the whole world. It’s just a quirky habit of mine to visit supermarkets abroad. Whole Foods Kensington is huge, it’s amazing and just extra. I simply love it. If you don’t really know London, or don’t know what part of town to see besides the tourist classics, I highly recommend High Street Kensington. It is classy with a variety of shops, cafés and restaurants, and home to all the major high street brands without being as crowded as Oxford Street. You’ll find all the British staples, such as Marks & Spencer, Holland & Barrett and Boots, too but don’t have to elbow your way through on the pavement. Caffé Concerto used to be one of my favourite places to go for a birthday treat. It’s changed a bit since, but the cakes still look delicious in the display.

    While London and I definitely grew estranged, I am still very happy to return every once in a while, and you can rest assured that I will continue to share some insights and recommendations in the future whenever I go. 

    I am not affiliated with or sponsored by any of the restaurants, shops, and hotels mentioned or otherwise featured in this blog post.

  • Dear hotel, what is with the hair-dryer?

    Dear hotel, what is with the hair-dryer?

    Unfortunately, my day job has not really elevated me to the level where I can stay in hotels that offer a top-notch hair styling device in their rooms. And even more unfortunately, it appears that even if your budget isn’t too humble, you are nevertheless perpetually suspected of stealing a hairdryer, because why else would most hotels still use these apparatuses that are attached to the wall? Whenever I see one of these, I am stunned. I thought we had out-grown the 80s. I mean, I might as well put my hair into an air-fryer. The other very popular variant is the slightly more advanced model with its unreasonably short and not very bendable cord that literally weighs 5 kg. Although I am into weightlifting, I don’t feel like that one-sided expander-style overhead hold for 30 minutes, because this is literally how long it will take to get my hair to the state of being dry. And the frizz will be real. 

    View of Valera hair dryer

    I have been wondering again and again, why it is that hardly any hotel I have ever stayed at had a semi-decent hair dryer. Do people really steal them? And don’t even get me started on the shampoos and conditioners. It really strikes me as a serious conundrum. The same is true for gyms actually. Why do gyms and hotels inherently suspect their clients and customers of kleptomania? And who advises these people? Let me tell you, I would be a much happier guest if I could wake up with good hair.

    The consequence, of course, is that I stopped travelling light. I just do not appreciate a bad hair day. I always have to bring half a salon to get my dry, coarse and wavy hair (of which I have a lot) into somewhat of a shape. In some places, like Serbia for example, your best solution is of course to just go to a salon and get a blow-out. But in most western European cities and capitals that is just not a thing. I did it once in Milan and was incredibly happy with the result. I was actually just killing time until my room was ready and walked past a random salon in the neighbourhood. Getting a blow-out seemed like a perfect use of my time. So, one piece of advice would be to just go to a salon, but otherwise, just over-pack for your weekend trip like I do. 

    In fact, going to a hair salon in a foreign country or city is really enjoyable. I think these kinds of non-touristic everyday places really tell you a lot about the culture and people. The way people treat and blow-dry your hair really tells you so much about a culture and beauty standards in that country – something I find inherently intriguing. I loved my Italian blow-out, but nothing will ever come close to Belgrade, the capital of hair. You can walk into any salon and you will walk out looking like a Hollywood star getting ready for her red-carpet event. And it will just be a regular Saturday, because this is just how Belgrade rolls.

    I also had some good hair moments in Jerusalem, however, they cost as much as a six-month subscription to a Serbian salon. 

    So, now when I travel (to anywhere other than Belgrade) – and very often these are long-weekends – I simply have to overpack just to accommodate my hair essentials. Over the years, I have, however, perfected the art of ‘what to bring’ and usually confine myself to my trusted hair straightener, and my own shampoo and conditioner and/or mask that can be used as a conditioner in a travel size package (check out my packing essentials reel on Instagram If you like). The latter is an absolute must, because I think unless you are able to afford the Ritz, you’ll likely be stuck with a 2 in 1 designed for male business travelers with thinning hairlines. And the straightener can usually fix the mess the sub-par hairdryers create.

    Better yet though: next time you travel, just walk into a salon and ask for a blow-out. I guarantee you, you will love it!

  • The art of dining alone

    Part 1 – An act of self-respect

    Here it is. Probably one of the most controversial solo-travel topics. How or if to dine alone. It is not only a controversial topic, but, in my humble opinion, also a very complex topic and definitely not one that I have fully mastered or conquered. A little disclaimer at the beginning of the blog post: I am not a psychologist nor do I pretend to be one. I am a just a human being, a woman in her early 40s who has experienced her fair share of dinners for one; and I am not talking about business trips or lunch (a topic I intend to tackle another day). I am talking about going out for dinner on hedonistic travel adventures.

    I want to divide my many thoughts on this topic into different parts and blog posts and today, I decided to start with part 1, or chapter 1 if you like: The basics.

    As humans, we need to feed ourselves on a daily basis. Typically, we divide our daily meals into breakfast, lunch and dinner. This applies during work days, but also, of course, while travelling. In fact, immersing yourself into a foreign cuisine and experiencing another culture through food is wonderful, yet I hear – and sometimes feel – it to be a daunting thought to walk into a restaurant alone. I would assume that this applies to both men and women, but, I would still argue that there is more stigma attached to a woman dining alone. 

    When I started to travel by myself, I think it was in 2010, when I got dumped by a boyfriend but did not see a reason to cancel my trip to Istanbul, I found it very difficult to muster up the courage to go and eat alone. I would confine myself to lunch – less weird, I thought – and stick to the touristic places nearby my hotel. Did people stare at me? Yes, they did; mainly women, mind you. Did I have a great experience? No, I did not. Did I experience the wonderful breadth of Turkish cuisine? Of course, I did not. Did I feel good about myself? No. Did I enjoy my dinner? Absolutely not. And you know why? Because I was obsessed with what other people thought; the waiter, the guests, the passers-by.

    It is fair to say that, from this moment on, I dreaded dining out alone and I would rather sit in my hotel room than to ask for “a table for one, please”. For several years and many trips thereafter, I would buy something in the supermarket and eat it in my room, watching television. It was sad. But that’s what it was. Especially because I could not really effort nice hotels, which made the entire thing even sadder because the rooms were pretty basic and drab.

    So, what changed? At some point, my mindset just changed. I had had enough of sad in-room dining and I thought: do I respect myself so little that I confine myself to the room just because someone could stare at me? So, what? Let them stare. I am a grown up, and who cares what people think about me. Do I ever really care what people think of me? No, I don’t. Will I ever see these people again? I probably won’t either. Why then should I deprive myself of the opportunity to go out, to dine and to experience the evening atmosphere in whatever place I am at? In my opinion, you should not give importance to what strangers – or in fact your peers – think about your dinner habits. Respect yourself, love yourself enough to understand that you deserve a table in that restaurant just as much as all of those couples and families do. 

    And you know what? I have also been told by friends who are in relationships how they think I am so brave to do that. Why brave I ask? Isn’t it sad? Do I need a second person to tag along to deserve a spot in a restaurant?

    view of sumptuous hors d'oeuvre

    Sure, it’s nicer to dine with someone, because you can exchange experiences and talk about your impressions, but I have equally seen so many couples sitting in silence or staring at their phones.

    It does not take a friend, a husband, a fiancé, a child, a niece, a parent or whomever for you to have permission to go dine. You simply owe it to yourself, because you are worth it on your own. 

    Go and ask for that table for one, and don’t accept the one in the corner next to the ladies room at the back. Claim your spot; one with a good view.

    To be continued