How practicing gratitude can save you a lot of money
Last year, when I wrote about my favourite of all vacations (summer vacation), I could not really predict the prices of everything leading me somewhere sunny and warm would soar to new heights in 2026. Whether it is the flights, the hotel, or simply the 8 EUR pool side coffee, this year is looking a little gloomy in the beach department. But here’s the thing:
How blessed am I to be living in a country with a beach? Even though I long for a sea to swim in rather than one to just look at, it is simply not in the cards right now for me to go and chill on the shores of the Adriatic or Mediterranean for a fortnight or so. But it doesn’t mean I cannot appreciate the different kind of beauty of what I have at home.
Of course, the weather is the biggest factor for me in all of this, because sitting in a cold breeze wearing essentially winter clothes that I have worn for 8 months consecutively in the middle of August isn’t really that cute. But, if summer stays around for longer than the fortnight it has already been here, what is at my doorstep is literally someone else’s dream holiday.
I can easily take public transport in the early morning, make my way to the dunes and hang out on the beach with not much on my mind for the rest of the day; reading a book and gazing into the horizon. Sipping cappuccino in a surfer café-beach bar shack isn’t so bad after all, because it is so far removed from my everyday life. Vacation mode switches on as soon as the soles of my feet hit the sand.
If you realize the privilege of being exactly where you are, every staycation can become glamorous and relaxing.
I have a loyal follower on Instagram with whom I sometimes exchange. He lives in a city I once lived in. Every Saturday, he goes for a run and posts pictures of his morning run. To him, it’s just a run. To me, it is reconnecting me with a place I miss a lot; it lets me dream of walking down the streets and visiting shops and places I loved.
After all, isn’t that what all Instagramers do: “This is where I am at, and how beautiful is it”? And I don’t mean that in a negative way; to the contrary. It can also be the ‘wish you were here’ urge, we feel the need to share in the moment. I think that when we think about where we live in that way, if we make home ‘instagrammable’ so to speak, it can make us so much more appreciative of and grateful for what we have.
You can completely romanticize the entire experience by changing your perspective. Your normal is someone else’s dream. Whether you are going to the beach, hiking in the mountains, looking over the hills of Tuscany or sunsets at the Pacific, or whether you sit and eat ice-cream in Central Park; whether you live in the Netherlands, Tokyo, London, or the South of France, someone else would love to be where you are right now.
Maybe the Tropezians get bored of Saint Tropez, too. Have you ever thought of that? But they wouldn’t show you that on Instagram, would they?
Maybe your forest walk would be the ultimate luxury for an asthmatic city dweller.
Maybe it is time that we looked at our staycations with the eyes of a tourist. What would you make of your days if you had saved an entire year to pay for the flights and the hotel to transport you to where you are? What would you do if you only stayed for a week? Maybe draw up a list of things you’d recommend a stranger do in your place and use it as an itinerary for your staycation.
Just do things you never find the time for. Try the new neighbourhood restaurant, go for a hike, read that beach side novel; whatever it is.
Being grateful for what we have can really make or break a staycation. The most important thing is to exit the routine and change your vantage point. And in the end, you do not even have to pay for flights.
I really hope you all have a good time vacationing and hope to see you here again soon.
The compulsive traveller that I am, I cannot just stay put for months on end in one place. I need to go somewhere and see something else, eat something else and just expose my mind and soul to different influences. This is how I came to plan a day trip to the Belgian city of Antwerp, world famous for its Diamond Exchange and Diamond quarter. With good train connections from the Netherlands and a reasonable travel time, this entire trip seemed like a good idea.
For once, I planned a bit and came up with a shopping list of places I was likely to go and check out while there. If anything, it served as a sort of itinerary for the day. I had no plans for any museums (not such a fan of Rubens to be very honest) and diamonds aren’t within my budget anyhow. It was all about atmosphere, coffee, and waffles. Most prominently, and on top of my list, was, however, a bagel café.
I woke up as early as on a weekday and made my way to the train station where a middle-aged passenger played Chopin on the train station piano while I waited. He played beautifully and the melody went so well with the quiet and peaceful morning. It was really cold for the season, but the crisp air was somehow soothing. I had to change trains only once on the Dutch side and boarded the EuroCity train to Belgium that looked like a relic from the 1970s. The train’s weird colour scheme and ancient appeal somehow transported me back in time, but surprisingly, it was very clean at the same time and in spotless condition. As such, I had nothing to complain about. It did not take long before we crossed the border into Belgium and lots of people were boarding the train. Everybody was going to Antwerp. Arrived at Antwerp Central Station, I could not help but be impressed by its three-story train system and the imposing architecture from colonial times.
My first serious stop was going to be the bagel café, but before that I wanted to stroll through the deserted streets of a shabbating Diamond quarter. Deserted it was, shabbating as well; but I could tell it wasn’t only because of shabbat that shops and buildings looked empty. There were an inordinate amount of signs on residential buildings and shops advertising them for sale or to be let, which was only rivalled by the number of security cameras zooming in on me.
I walked through a few blocks (most definitely looking more suspicious than touristy); none of it was glamorous. If anything, it was depressing. A few men in religious attire were crossing the streets, and so did soldiers with balaclavas and rifles ready to be used. I saw a dusty, abandoned shop that had once sold books and Judaica, a closed hat shop looking for a buyer, and an enormous areal of what must have been residential blocks before the bulldozer had its way. What was indicated as a ‘Diamond factory’ on google maps seemed to have been razed to the ground as well. I suppose that these days, diamonds mainly grow in labs and it shows. The glory days were definitely over. Further down a side street, I could see the Diamond Exchange in a cordoned off street; at least that looked more alive somehow.
After this little sight-seeing tour, I decided it was time for a good bagel. The place wasn’t far. Established in 1879, now Bagelstein was located in a diner style front shop within, or affiliated with, the Radisson Blu hotel between Central Station and China Town. Not the most glamorous of neighbourhoods as such, but I was determined to give it a go.
I ordered Belgian spring natural water with my chicken, cream cheese and extra salad sesame bagel because I was intending to go to various cafés throughout the day. The bagel was soft and tasty. I did not regret coming all the way for it. What I loved the most was that it was served as a good bagel should be and not in this bizarre, deconstructed style I find in the Netherlands where all the toppings are draped on bagel halves I never know how to eat without soiling myself.
After I finished my bagel, I looked at the list of places (mainly cafés) I had drawn up at home. Walking towards what appeared to be the main shopping street, I walked past the usual suspects of fast-food chains bizarrely sandwiching in traditional diamond jewellers. A bit further down, mundane high street shops were lining the once glorious façades of the street. The first stop on my list was a ‘speciality coffee’ place close to the church of Notre Dame.
Arriving at my destination, I was extremely underwhelmed to find out that the place was just s store front – no indoor seating (the pictures on google had clearly lied), and the overpriced coffee was ‘served’ in a takeaway cup; in other words, you had to pick up your tiny paper cup and find a seat among the randomly assembled tables in front of the shop – McDonald’s style. The weather was getting worse, with droplets of rain mingling with the cold air.
Sitting on my plastic outdoor chair, I spotted a sign advertising a ‘chocolatier’ on the other side of the square, which I decided to check out, even just for bringing back some Belgian chocolate as a souvenir.
When I approached the shop, I realized that it was empty and abandoned. A sign was mounted on the door explaining that the shop was closed for good, thanking all customers of past decades for their loyalty.
To the side of the abandoned chocolatier, I realized, was another dying business: traditional lace. The shop was currently in the middle of its ‘closing sale’ with all items drastically reduced. When I entered, an almost cheerful old lady was assisting two Japanese tourists interested in a tablecloth in flawless English to find the biggest discounts. It made me so incredibly sad to witness this entire charade.
Although I didn’t need anything, I felt emotionally compelled to pick up something and aimed for two extremely fairly priced hand-embroidered moth-repelling little lavender cushions, only to be almost admonished by the old lady for not noticing that they came as ‘buy one get one free’. When I left the shop with four cushions instead and a tear in the corner of my eye, I wondered whether the square would soon be adorned with yet another bubble tea shop, kebab stall and made-in-China knick-knacks instead.
Since the cappuccino I just had didn’t really hit the spot, I ventured on in search of a different café. I walked over to the Grootemarkt aka grand place where several wedding ceremonies appeared to be held in the majestic city hall. Parties of guests would stand in groups celebrating the different couples who had just tied the knot. I went to take a seat in one of the more traditional looking cafés that gave me a good vantage point for what was going on in the square. Feeling touristy, I decided to go for Belgian waffles, but unfortunately, they did not have any. I settled for yet another cappuccino – Belgian roast. It was actually pretty good. When the rain returned, wedding guests came to shelter under the large parasols, ordering pints of beer while waiting out the short shower in high spirits.
When I left along the imposing buildings that frame the main square, now housing an Irish pub, Turkish kebab and Japanese Sushi, I stumbled upon an artisanal chocolatier. The shop smelled divine. A few tourists were buying chocolate pralines with funky flavours, but I stuck to chocolate bars and purchased some from the chatty shopkeeper as a souvenir of this trip.
Still thinking of Belgian waffles, I searched google maps – but all the places reportedly selling them were literally fast food-style storefronts and you had to gobble down your 1500 calories in the rain and on the street. It was a no-brainer. In my opinion, unhappy calories are better left uneaten.
I set out in the direction of a matcha café featuring on my list, which was supposed to be in the fashion district. Getting there led me through a hipster borough with organic supermarkets, second-hand shops and vegan cafés. Since it wasn’t really vibing with me and the vibes were quickly changing into ‘I wonder whether it’s safe down here?’, I decided to abandon the mission and returned to where I came from. I did have a matcha latte on the way back in one of the numerous tea shops that lined hipster-ville highstreet, and decided to try out some window shopping in the more commercially oriented part of town instead.
After resisting to buy a pair of sneakers I did not need, and steering clear of a pretty, sky-blue cardigan (apparently the ‘it’ colour of 2026!), because it somehow reminded me too much of my boss’s never changing attire, I was kind of done for the day. Headed back to central station, I came across a traditional Flemish bakery – ostensibly very popular because the queue was real!
I bought more bread than was reasonable for a solo household (that’s what freezers are for) and it was most definitely the highlight of my trip.
Trying to get a better picture of the fascinating indoor façade of Antwerp central station, I took the escalator to the higher floor.
In the left-hand side corner, relatively unspectacularly looking from the outside, is the most magnificent café I have a seen in a while. When I entered, I was stunned at the opulent gold-gilded décor and high ceilings of its interior. Finally rounding off the day with a Belgian must have, I ordered my waffle and sat in admiration until it was time to get back on the time machine.
Little did I know that EuroCity train reservations are only valid for the exact train you book. Even though it does not let you reserve seats like the EuroStar, you apparently cannot take an earlier connection as I did. And so, it came that I ended my day trip with a beautiful fine from Belgian railways. Don’t be like me. Read the fine print on your tickets and maybe have another coffee instead of rushing for the earlier train.
As always, I am neither sponsored nor affiliated with any of the places, shops, and establishments mentioned in this blog.
Many years ago, I watched a German documentary about the almond blossom season in Mallorca in which the orange express, also known as the tren de Sóller was prominently featured. While I am personally less fascinated by train mechanics than I am by traditional almond sweets, beautiful landscapes, and glorious beaches, this documentary somehow lingered in my mind to the day I came to visit the island myself – a decade or more later. Before I set out to this little mediterranean paradise, the image of the train rushed back into my conscious memory. I sought to plan the trip in those few days in September I had at my disposal for touristic excursions before attending to the real reason for my travel to Spain.
Skeptical as I am, however, I did – not so diplomatically – ask my local friend whether this train trip to Sóller was ‘just a tourist trap or actually nice’. He was borderline offended by my question and assured me that, while it was definitely touristic, it was a very nice trip on which he had even taken his in-laws a few years ago. Since this sort of resembled an approval of the whole endeavour, I put the tren de Sóller firmly on my travel itinerary for Mallorca in 2025.
It was a beautiful day in late September, the weather was perfect, and the views did not disappoint. While the first part of the journey leads through the fertile plains of the island’s interior, the Serra de Tramuntana is not far from the island’s capital.
Soon, the train takes its route through tunnels and across narrow bridges nestled between the valleys and towns of this northern mountainous region. Lush vegetation and shadows of increasingly higher mountains feel so far removed from the yachts and urban buzz of the capital. Arriving in Sóller, one already sees the spires of its large Gothic-style church of Sant Bartomeu, which appears as grand an opulent in this little town – and is very similar in style – to that of Palma, from afar.
Sóller, unfortunately quite overrun by tourists, is charming and grand in architecture; a clear reminder of its bygone days when almonds and fruit made for precious commodities and lucrative trade. As with all touristic and Instagram-hyped ‘bucket list’ places, simply taking a side road will let you enjoy it in peace and quiet as most people are less interested in seeing them than in being seen in them.
To this day, Sóller remains famous for its citrus fruit and the train used to be a means of transporting the fruit to the capital and elsewhere. It dates back to 1912 and shares many of the characteristics of the iconic trams of Lisbon or Milan. The glazed caramel-coloured wooden seats and up-sliding windows exude the same glory of the olden days that I personally love very much, probably because they evoke happy childhood memories of summers spent in Lisbon with my grandmother and walking around its Baixa and Chiado as a student. As a Serb, I however feel compelled to warn you of the near certain potential of promaja (draft) created by scantily clothed Northerners opening windows on all possible sides of the wagons to let in the cold mountain air because their iPhones told them it was warm in Palma.
Not being able to hire a car and explore the natural beauty of any place to which I travel on a more individual basis, I am always looking for ways alternative transport options can help me get around and see as much as possible. The tren de Sóller lets you get off in Sóller, walk around and then rejoin it for the last stretch of the journey to the Port.
The Port has a long promenade framed by beautiful sandy beaches and a marina at the end; many cafés and restaurants line its beachfront with stunning views on turquoise waters. I highly recommend a piece of almond cake while savouring the landscape.
You can buy your tickets for the tren de Sóller at the designated station called the Ferrocarril de Sóller just across the Plaça de Espanya in Palma, adjacent to the Estació Intermodal and central coach station. While you can also get to both Sóller and Port de Sóller by coach No. 203 from the Estació Intermodal, I would recommend the train for several reasons. First, it is simply very nice and unique. Second, you are able to book your return for a specific time when buying your ticket, which leads me to my third reason: enforced limited seating that prevents all sorts of unpleasantries you may very well experience when queuing for the coach according to the principles of touristic Darwinism and self-centred foreigners not believing in queues.
All in all, I join my friend in telling you that the train trip to Sóller is touristic, but very nice indeed.
All recommendations are my genuine opinions. I have paid all fares and food at full price by myself and I am not sponsored or otherwise affiliated with any company or establishment mentioned in this post.
My last blogs have largely been dedicated to my opinionated philosophizing about travel. With the beginning of spring and a more outward looking perspective on how to spend time, however, I am finally able to share a real travel blog with you again. I have been alluding to it before but did not want to spill the beans just yet about where this journey was going to take us.
Day 1
I am blessed to be living in Europe, where many beautiful destinations can easily be reached within a few hours and short weekend breaks to a completely different country are within the realm of the possible. This time, I took advantage of a direct flight connection to the beautiful city of Florence in Tuscany. I have never been to Tuscany before, and I thought it would be a good idea to see it before the summer crowds arrive. In my opinion, it would also be a waste to dedicate precious warm summer days that could be spent on the beach roaming the museums. But who could visit Florence and skip the museums? It would be a sin.
But be aware, if you do not plan this out months in advance, you’ll be disappointed. Nowadays all major museums have online ticket sales and those come with time slots of 15-minute windows. Of course, you can also buy tickets on the spot, but you will wait in line for a very long time. Already now at the end of February, the queues were substantial.
For a change to my usual blogs, I will actually run you through my itinerary in case you would find it useful for your own plans.
I arrived at the airport at noon (with hand luggage only) and took a taxi to the old town, which took about 30 minutes. I was lucky to chance upon a very nice and kind taxi driver who spoke excellent English and with whom I really had a nice chat; usually, I am not a big fan of chatting with taxi drivers. He asked me – as most of them do: So, you are travelling alone? And when I get the weird vibes, I usually come up with a lie such as I am joiningmy husband who was here on a business trip or something along those lines. But this guy was normal, so I said “Yes, I am travelling alone” and in his opinion that was a great idea because I did not have to compromise on anything – especially food – and just do what I wanted. It really made me smile, because that’s not a response I usually get.
My hotel was located at the Piazza dell’indipendenza, next to a park and a short walking distance from the centre. I was already able to leave my luggage in the room, freshen up a little and walk to my first destination of the day, the Capelle Medicee where I had booked myself a timeslot to see Michelangelo’s secret chamber at 13:30. I made it on time easily (although I had stressed about that a little when the plane was delayed) and even grabbed a focaccia from the supermarket around the corner because I was starving as well as an espresso at the bar across before turning up about five minutes early. And I cannot stress this enough, but if you do book this tour – which I highly recommend – you must be punctual. The museum organizes the tour for a group of no more than four people at a time because the secret chamber is very small.
Our guide was a refreshingly genuine and enthusiastic young lady who explained both the story of the secret chamber as well as the intricacies of the drawings and sketches and answered all our questions in both Italian and English. The guided visit lasted about 20 minutes and all of us had plenty of opportunity to look around and really take in what we were seeing. After the guided tour, you can freely visit the rest of the museum on your own.
After the Medici chapel, I had some time to walk down to the river Arno, take a few beautiful pictures of the bridges and riverbanks, and eat a gelatoat the corner of Ponte Santa Trinita before slowly walking back into the town centre for my next stop of the day, the Galleria dell’Academia museum. My time slot started at 15:30 and I made it comfortably on time without having to rush.
While I would not call myself an art lover per se or connoisseur of any kind, I do have a natural appreciation for everything beautiful, and I get immensely impressed by the mastery of artists so many centuries ago. There were a few paintings from the beginning of the 14th century that really stuck with me due to their immense beauty, detail and vibrancy.
I often find the larger paintings more difficult to appreciate due to my visual impairment, as I cannot see the detail that I would imagine many people with normal eyesight would be able to catch.
The same goes for statutes, such as Michelangelo’s David that is cordoned off for good reason, given the focused interest of most visitors to the museum. I actually found myself more fascinated by the smaller works on the first floor, where I was able to approach the painting at a closer range and really appreciate the detailing.
As impressive as the Galleria was, I suffered my usual art-overload about halfway through and felt a bit depleted at that point in the afternoon. I then decided to look for a Bar-Tabacchi (coffee bar/kiosk)and top up my coffee levels before heading back to the hotel to rest and refresh before my solo dinner appointment.
It was indeed the first time I had made a dinner reservation weeks in advance and to my surprise at the time, it was entirely possible to reserve a table for one, which you cannot do in some countries mind you.
With hindsight, I really think it was a great idea to reserve a table because otherwise I would have just roamed the city aimlessly and probably doubted whether I would even be interested in a dinner for one. But because I had this reservation, it really felt like a fixed appointment, even if it was only with myself. Now, whether I would recommend randomly picking a restaurant off google maps like I did, I don’t know. But in my case, it worked out very well.
I had looked at the pricing and menu beforehand and gotten an idea about the kind of restaurant it was, which proved to be accurate. It was a nice, traditional restaurant with a lot of local charm and at no point did I feel uncomfortable dining alone. The waiting staff was very friendly, the food was great and overall, it was a very nice evening. I can warmly recommend it for those interested.
Day 2
I am not going to lie when I say I was very tired on my first evening and decided to sleep in; that said: for someone who usually rises at 5 a.m. ‘sleeping in’. means 8:30. After quite a disappointing breakfast buffet visit, I made myself another coffee in the room, as it proved to be highly superior to that in the windowless breakfast basement without wifi or telephone reception. I then headed out towards the Duomo to attend Sunday mass at 10:30. While I am not Roman Catholic, living abroad with next to no access to churches of my own confession, I have learned to find a moment of prayer and reflection among congregations of other Christian denominations and focus on the readings. What I found slightly disturbing though was that attendees were encouraged to ‘follow’ the mass on their phone by scanning a QR code with ‘the program’. Thus, for those fortunate enough to be in full possession of their visual senses, you had them glued to their screens.
After mass, I set out on a hike to the Piazzale de Michelangelo from where you have a panoramic view down on the city with the skyline of the dome of the Duomo, its belltower and the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. I passed the queues of tourists waiting for admission to Arnolfo’s tower, left behind the Ponte Vecchio, horrified at the masses of tourists which caused me a little onset of claustrophobic discomfort and activated my natural flight instinct. Like this, I randomly followed over-packed streets only to find that I was on the wrong track. At the Palazzo Pitti – framed by a sizeable queue of patiently waiting tourists – I made a U-turn and found my way up the hill towards the Piazzale. It was a pleasant but steep walk in the end, so I would only recommend it to those who are reasonably in shape, otherwise just call a taxi.
Having made it to the top, I was greeted by the breathtaking view on one of Europe’s most beautiful skylines, but also by touristy stalls of knick-knacks, trinkets and the usual merchandise made in China. Blasting Latin music from a street performer and girlfriends directing their portrait-taking boyfriends on the various angles of perfect Instagram content did not kindle my desire to further explore the Piazzale itself. I took some of my own soon-to-be Instagram pictures and made my way back down to the river. It was past noon and definitely time for a meal in any event.
For lunch, I came across a very nice Pizzeria named Forneria, not too far from the Ponte Vecchio. A perfect blend of locals and tourists, friendly staff, good food and a clean and modern atmosphere make me really recommend this place to you. In their main sitting area, you also get a stunning view on the river and the old city. I could unashamedly charge up my phone while enjoying my pizza and a tiramisù.
Walking around for the rest of the afternoon, taking in the stunning architecture and blending into the city’s afternoon passeggiata I finally reached a point where I could walk no more. I had yet another coffee and because I needed to drag out that seated break for a little longer, a glass of Prosecco (when in Rome…as they say!). After some people watching and general contemplation, I cancelled my dinner reservation because I was still too full after the lunch I could not even finish.
Eventually, it was time to make it back to the hotel and facing the real world at the click of a button switching on the news. I shouldn’t have. Because for those two days that I spent in Italy, I could focus on nothing but a mental break and taking in the beauty life has to offer.
I don’t travel in order to tell you stories or post pictures. It is the other way around.
I like to tell you stories, because I love travelling. When you travel alone, there’s no one to share your impressions with, so they become stories that need to be told. I travel because I seek the tranquillity and peace of mind that I only experience when I am away from the routine and when I am able to slip into a different place and reality.
The next morning, I slept in, drank all the coffee in the room and skipped that unappealing breakfast altogether. A yoghurt and some delicious strawberries I had purchased the day before were a far better choice before heading back to the airport with no rush.
I hope you enjoyed my little itinerary and it would mean the world to me if any of my humble recommendations will help you in planning your own trip to Florence, or anywhere or even just make you dream about it.
As always, all recommendations are my own spontaneous and heartfelt recommendations. I have not been sponsored in any way or obtained any gifts, favours, products or food for free in preparing this blog.
Over Christmas and New Year, I stayed with family. I had a chill time and the weather was great. By the time I was meant to return, however, the Netherlands were hit with a cold front and lots of snow (for their standards) and the airport more or less came to a halt. My flight was cancelled again and again for days and I even got to spend Serbian Christmas at home as well, which had not been in the plan. I could tell you many details but I won’t. I don’t want my blog to turn into complain-dot-com; the things as they happened are in the past, much time and money was wasted but it’s over now and I do not want to recount it. And besides, many people were much unluckier than me when it comes to flight cancellations and the particular circumstances they found themselves in. I need to be grateful for having dodged the worst, and I truly am.
What I do want to share with you are some lessons learned, and I hope they can be helpful for you, too. Although I call myself a seasoned traveller, I found myself in situations I had badly prepared for and in the future, I will have to make some adjustments, because I won’t always be as lucky as to be at a relative’s home when flights get cancelled for multiple days.
I now understand that I will have to be more alert when packing my hand-luggage and not use it as the ‘just dump what doesn’t fit into the suitcase’ type of bag. No, I now understand what my brother (an experienced business traveller) used to preach about hand luggage: toothbrush, PJs, an essential change of clothes, basic skincare set and basic travel medication. But in addition, I realized I also need a couple of days’ worth supply of prescription medication (and not just the ‘more or less enough’ plus one for the strict number of days I would be away – that really wasn’t smart and caused some serious hassle) and a power bank – because airports and taxis don’t have outlets and airlines think that instead of employing ground personnel, we can all do everything on our own in their unhelpful apps and telephones have endless battery power.
Maybe there is such a thing of being over-prepared, but, honestly, I never thought that I would need to be so prepared ‘just going home for Christmas’. Turns out, it doesn’t matter what the reason of your trip is; whether you go see relatives or would be able to get a toothbrush from the reception desk in the hotel you are heading to. If you are stuck in the airport for hours or days or being driven back and forth, you’ll need it. And in the unlucky event they ‘just’ lose your check-in bag, or it arrives late, you can thank me later when you have made some smart adjustments to the way you pack after reading this blog.
At least I had myinfamous Tupperwareand did not have to eat any of those sad looking pizza slices, greasy croissants or colourful doughnuts for 10 Euros each.
To keep things crisp and catchy, I am going to end this week’s blog here. I first need to recover from the most uncomfy travels ever before I have something beautiful to share with you next time. So, take care and pack well! Hope to see you back here soon xx
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!
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 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.
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.
Over the course of the last year, I have been visiting Palma de Mallorca on a number of occasions; not exactly for leisurely travel but that does not mean that I did not get a chance to explore parts of life in the capital of the Balearic Islands. It wasn’t about sightseeing or shopping, but about daily life. Regaining strength after a life-changing surgery, I could only walk. Not far, not much, and with many breaks in between. But when I think about it, doing exactly that would also be the perfect starting point for any solo-traveller exploring a new city.
While Palma is blessed with many benches and opportunities to sit down and enjoy the beautiful scenery and weather, such as on the central Passeig des Born, weeks and weeks of walking also requires some more interesting stops and longer breaks, just as any tourist exploring the city by foot would need and be interested in.
This is how I came to sample a number of cafés within the inner city of Palma. I have visited the city in late spring, early summer and autumn, which gave me plenty of opportunity to revisit certain spots I uncovered as a tourist or find new ones altogether when rest was my priority.
If you love coffee and café culture as much as I do and have a soft spot for a good matcha latte, too, here are some recommendations of where to find a nice vibey coffee spot in Palma. For this blog, I have decided to keep it modern, and I won’t be talking about cultural heritage and traditional cafés and coffee houses. If you are interested in that, check out my earlier blog. This time, it is about contemporary coffee culture, the kind of café that I like to frequent anywhere in the world, just with a uniquely Spanish touch. I am talking about places where you can rest and unwind, people-watch and get inspired or simply savour a beautiful, quiet moment in your day.
Of course, my list of cafés of choice is based on extremely subjective and unscientific criteria. It’s about gut feelings and vibes and not much about those can be objectively measured. Taste is subjective by definition and so are feelings of well-being and comfort. Similarly, some people like their coffee strong while others don’t. And if you like filter coffee, I suggest you skip this article and revisit my blog another day. Spaniards like their coffee strong, and so do I.
Likewise, this is not an article about the 5 most instagrammable cafés or hidden gems or anything like that, because for starters I don’t think any place in central Palma remains hidden and beyond that, there are really only four places I want to recommend this time around. I think I have said it before, but I am a creature of habit and once I like something, I go back. And if a place did not impress me the first time around or ruined my experience by having me scan a QR code or having a disappointing rest room, I am not really willing to come back and give them a second chance. So, even though you will only find four cafés listed here, I did visit many more. They just did not make the cut, because I take my coffee and customer experience very seriously.
My absolute and unrivaled favourite on this list is Dome. There is much to be said about this café as it really ticked many of my high-maintenance boxes. I love the modern, stylish design combined with traditional vibes of the place. It’s a perfect blend of contemporary café culture and Spanish gastronomy, excellently managed.
The café con leche is strong and generous and the matcha beautifully served. Seating is comfortable with street views that offer a calming environment for a relaxing coffee moment or cozy stop on a rainy autumn day. It is frequented by both tourists and locals which makes it vibrant and contemporary, and staff are kind, attentive and friendly.
Another place I have been returning to more than once is Menut. It is young and vibrant with a bit of a boho touch; the matcha latte was outstanding and I can equally recommend the cortado and café con leche. If you are interested in a bite, Menut is your place, too.
The only drawback about this café is the outdoor seating situation; it’s not exactly cozy or picturesque on the rather busy Jaime III junction but at least you have beautiful palm tree views on the Passeig de Mallorca, which kind of makes up for the noise from the street already.
I would say it is a great place for a break when you are out and about, well placed between the seafront and the centre of town. It is maybe less of a destination for a lazy morning or a spot you’d do some work at.
For a more laid-back coffee moment, I recommend El Grano de Caféwhich is located in a quiet street near the Mercat de l’Olivar. It is a chill cool café with beautiful indoor seating and reasonable outdoor seating, both of which offer excellent people-watching opportunities. I can’t say it is my favourite coffee in town, and it definitely is ‘watered down’ a bit for the more global taste (Spanish coffee is generally stronger I find), but I still like this place very much. I think it is the chilled location and overall vibe that make me rank it quite high up there. Service is a bit slow as they seem somewhat sparingly staffed, but who cares? You are there for coffee, not in an emergency room. No one is saving lives here and we are not on the run. Just sit back and relax. If you are into hanging out in cafés, you’ll like this one.
Last but not least in my list is Hotel Cappuccinoon Plaza de Cort. The café con leche is excellent and the view into the square is very pretty; however, you do need to spend more for your coffee than elsewhere, that just comes with the ambiance, as it is one of the more luxurious hotels in town. For me, it’s absolutely worth it. My old-school personality very much appreciates the atmosphere of the hotel and only because it does not fit within my vibey coffee spot criteria, do I rank it lower on my list. For me, it is more of a Sunday outing kind of place that you intentionally go to, rather than a café you’d stop at along the way.
None of my recommendations are sponsored. They are the result of my genuine opinions and impressions. I have paid for all my coffees myself.
There are three things that come in a box and/or cube format that I absolutely cannot live without when I travel. These are a Tupperware (yes, I am that kind of person), my Tumi travel cubes and my Max Mara cube vest. Of course, the last two items also come in more affordable versions these days, but I am not exactly crazy about shopping and this is why I like to invest in quality pieces that last me many years to avoid the hassle (and expenditure) of constantly having to repurchase the same things.
Would I flaunt a Tupperware the size of a cornflakes box on the breakfast table, unashamedly filling it with everything on display? Hardly. But I still find it ok to discretely pack something healthy to eat into it before heading out to the airport. And this takes me to exactly my point. Those of you who travel a lot will know that not only is the airport food and drink scene helplessly overpriced, but the main problem is the kind of food on offer. All of it is sweet, ultra-processed and devoid of any protein or greens. This is why I pack my Tupperware. I pack it for a trip with healthy snacks or even a sandwich, not because I am cheap, but because I do not feel like eating rubbish or nothing at all just because the choice will be poor. And it is something we already know in advance, it is foreseeable, and therefore, I plan ahead.
Mind you, my Tupperware habit has also saved a diabetic colleague on a business trip when the travel time unexpectedly extended by three hours and he did not have any food on him. Just saying.
Second on my list is my beloved Tumi travel cube. It is now 14 years old and still going strong. In its ordinary life, it keeps my office attire neat and wrinkle free in my gym bag five days a week. On its more exciting outings it helps me organize my outfits and assists me in being less of a mess when packing. While it did come with a hefty price tag, I do not regret this expenditure one single day.
To the contrary, I am so grateful that this accessory has never let me down. If you are interested in a great quality travel cube that keeps its shape (which I think is the one quality that keeps it in a class of its own compared to other brands), you might want to consider investing in one. Maybe there will even be Black Friday offers; it may be worth looking out for that.
Last but not least I need to mention my Max Mara cube vest I repurchased again after several years in Milan last spring. It has been my single most worn piece of clothing ever since; summer or winter (not much of a difference where I live) and particularly when travelling. I don’t know about you, but I often find that the air cabin temperature is way below 20 degrees Celsius (according to google that is 68 degrees Fahrenheit) and I find that to be very cold.
This is where the vest comes in so handy. It weighs next to nothing but keeps me so incredibly warm. You can stuff it in whatever overpacked bag you bring as a carry on because it also takes up so little space. You can wear it under another jacket to, for example, bring a trench up a notch to being as warm as a winter jacket. This is particularly helpful when you cross the weather divide and do not want to schlepp around a winter coat but also don’t fancy coming down with the flu the day after.
All in all, this vest has been a lifesaver for me on several trips and will continue to be just that for years to come.
And there you have it. My three most reliable boxes I bring on every trip.
Granted, they are not the prettiest arrangement when seen in their raw state, but they are unbeatable when in action.
Especially the Tupperware, I dare you to try on your next trip. You can thank me later.
As always, none of my recommendations are sponsored. I am not affiliated with any of the brands.
I recently had to travel for personal reasons, not connected with my love for leisurely trips. That also meant that I had to stay abroad for a few weeks, which in turn made a hotel stay impossible; I mean, I am not Coco Chanel, unfortunately.
Staying in an apartment – and don’t get me wrong, it was a very nice apartment, centrally located and generally quite fabulous – I was, however, again reminded why I loathe staying in apartments when traveling. For starters, the owners hardly ever manage these properties full-time. Thus, you always get exactly that: someone who is “looking after” you and the flat on the side; never a priority, never fully committed, never top-notch service. They’ll fit you in between work and family life, even though you are a paying customer, not a relative coming to stay.
And then, there is the usual that seems to come with every flat – globally. Stuff doesn’t work. You get the induction, and already you are being told that the toilet flush is temperamental and doesn’t work properly; you’ll have to push a few times to make the water stop running. I mean, first of all, what is it with toilets that literally everywhere you go, there’s an issue with the flush? Second, why don’t you, dear landlady, just get the plumber to fix it before you accept paying guests?
Then, we have the miscellaneous electric issue or broken boiler or what have you. Yes, they are kind, they understand, they call the electrician/handyman and yes, he’ll come tomorrow. At three o’clock? Yeah, that’s great, thanks. Because that’s really what I came here for. To wait for the electrician. Fantastic. And you know (or should have known) the guy doesn’t show up at three, but he’ll be there at two-thirty because he can, and you are still with wet hair coming out of the shower; lucky you were wearing a pair of trousers already when he rang the doorbell. And I am not even going to mention the shoes-in-the-flat issue. It is what it is. He won’t know English, that’s clear. Luckily, I know a few languages; that usually helps. And he’ll use your fresh kitchen towel to put his tools on. Don’t worry, he’ll be very kind and carefully put it back later, as if you were totally still going to use that to dry your dishes.
Speaking of the dishes. Yes, you have the de luxe flat with the dishwasher, and wow, they even have about two dishwashing tablets left so you can lay off the groceries for half a day, but guess what, you are not just staying for two days, so of course you’re going to the supermarket and buying new dishwasher tablets immediately. Only to then find those cute little red lights blinking when you first want to run the dishwasher. And then you go the next day again, to buy the salt and rinse aid. And when you are there in the local supermarket or drugstore, buying wiping cloths (why do flats never have them?) and sponges – because the one you found was minging and, yes, all the crockery in the cupboard was kind of sticky and you need to wash stuff on the side because you cannot run the dishwasher for one cup, can you? – you ask yourself: is this really why I traveled to a foreign country? To queue in a store buying cleaning products for a flat that isn’t even mine?
Another classic is the: why are there no hooks to hang towels? What are you supposed to do with those? And tissues? Kitchen towels and toilet paper? Always on the last roll, half down and the olive oil on its last drops. So you have to go buy that, too. And even though you did find some Tupperware in the drawer, it’s the rubbish kind that doesn’t close and all your cut fruit goes brown. By that time, you are already kind of fed up with sponsoring the landlady and decide to buy kod kineza, i.e. the local Chinese market that stocks absolutely everything and most definitely constitutes a fire hazard.
You buy your Tupperware and really got to remind yourself that, no, you shouldn’t buy hooks or a trash bin for the bathroom, because it isn’t your bathroom after all. But, of course, you are going to spend on stuff you did not need and more importantly, you are wasting your time. I already don’t particularly enjoy dealing with handymen or doing that kind of shopping at home. Constantly armed with bags schlepping about kitchen towel and dishwasher salt, you spend your day – doing chores.
All the things that holidaymakers seem to buy must be appearing in the black hole of the landlord’s households. Apart from the leftover shampoos and shower gels – of which there are plenty in the bathroom and which you neither need nor want to try.
The other side of the holiday apartment coin is the fact that you are losing out on so much because you create your own little microcosm, cooking the same food you cook at home, having the same breakfast, and missing out on interactions with the locals. It’s a bit sad, really; in the first three days of my stay, I felt like a student equipping my dorm again; ping-ponging between the flat, the Chinese, and the supermarket. I had a few relaxing coffees in the meantime, but that was all. Had I been in a hotel, I would have seen so much more, and I would have gone out and had dinner or lunch or both. I would have been helped and served by people whose job it is to work in tourism and restaurants.
In a way, I really do understand those locals who seek to curb the holiday home trend; taking up precious living space that the locals can no longer afford without really contributing much to the economy. I get it. And from the traveller’s perspective, I also think it is a bad deal. If you are going on a short trip that does not really require you to have access to a washing machine, etc., I would really urge you to reconsider the holiday apartment thing. It just isn’t worth it. Go to a hotel, get pampered, get looked after, and simply enjoy! Experience the food and the culture, not just the local supermarket.
I recently promised you another blog about Budapest. And one of the things that I take very seriously in life is keeping promises. And since my last blog about Budapest was a little heavy on the soul, I will keep it light this time and you may have guessed it, that usually means food. We’ll start with the coffee though, because all good things start with a coffee.
Budapest really struck me as a city that evolved around so many different influences; post-communist era chic mixed with Balkan vibes and Austrian flair. It is hard to describe really, as nothing I ever experienced really compares with Budapest. It’s humble and grandiose at the same times and glued together by the unique charm of its people and proud cuisine. Likewise, you can find all sorts of different cafés, ranging from modern hipster places to sumptuous over-the-top elegance.
A very heartfelt café recommendation I would like to share with you is Kávétársaság in the Lipótváros area. It’s cool, it’s modern, and fresh and really a great place to hang out because it just hits the right tone with its urban, minimalist vibe. While Kávétársaság was the kind of place you’d go to chill, you may, on the other hand fancy some serious kitsch and olden days charm and visit New York Café instead.
Touristy and overpriced, it is still absolutely worth the experience, but I would rather put it into the category of monument than café per se. Let’s say, it’s not where you’d go for your first coffee of the day moment.
The building itself is very extra and has an incredibly interesting history; the ambiance strongly reminiscent of the K&K days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire with its grandiose and lavish halls. It is quite a busy place as well, but don’t let that discourage you. The queues will move fast, as it is rather big.
Now, if you are more into the hearty cuisine of Hungary, you just cannot leave without savouring goulash or at least a goulash soup. I had both, obviously. The soup wasn’t bad, but I had it at a moment of the day when I was getting rather hangry, so there wasn’t really much choice involved when picking the restaurant. It was very touristic, and I didn’t really love it and thus I will not recommend it. Yet, I am a fan of goulash soup and having purchased approximately a pound of Paprika in Budapest’s market (If you want to know why, check out my earlier blog), I will undoubtedly cook some myself this winter.
The goulash I had later that evening (yes, same day, I know…), was, however, excellent and I am very happily recommending Szaletly restaurant, which is located in the somewhat quieter Istvánmező area, an area that reminded me very much of Serbia with its greenery and villas. I can’t really put my finger on it, but the vibe of the quite broad street just felt so very familiar.
In the evening, I would strongly advise you to get yourself a scenic spot on a rooftop bar overlooking the Danube. The Marriot hotel has a great rooftop bar with spectacular views. That said, you should absolutely book a table, as it isn’t very big and you may otherwise lose out on a table outside with the unobstructed views over the city skyline and all its beautiful major landmarks.
I said it before, and I will say it again: Budapest is a very beautiful and interesting city and needs to be visited again, periodically, if only for the Danube views and goulash.
None of the recommendations are sponsored in any way.
The comfy traveller's diaries 