Return to Austin

Last month, I hopped a plane to Austin – where I hadn’t been in nearly 10 years. Yes, Austin is in my home state of Texas, but it’s 300 miles from where I grew up, so I don’t often make it there on my Texas perambulations. But my girl Allison was in town for a conference, and when she said, “Come share my hotel room!,” there was only one right answer: yes.

We shared a comfy room on the 19th (!) floor of a hotel downtown, and between conference sessions, we explored the city together. I took her down the street to Jo’s for chai and migas tacos, which I ate three mornings in a row (no regrets). We strolled South Congress, popping into a shop or two and buying homemade cookies from a roadside vendor. That night, we went back for dinner at Güero’s: tacos, queso and enchiladas, topped off by ice cream at Jeni’s (all delectable).

While Allison was conferencing, I explored the city on my own: two morning runs along Lady Bird Lake, a prolonged browse at BookPeople, a wander up to the Texas Capitol. I popped into the central Austin Public Library (and brought Allison back to show her their adorable shop). I dropped into an art gallery and a running store; I swung by Trader Joe’s for citrus and snacks. It was a treat to play tourist in a city I know and like, but am still discovering.

Austin feels familiar because it’s Texan, because of sweet memories there from past trips, and because tacos. But it also feels fresh and surprising – not least because it’s changed and grown in the past decade (as have I). It’s bigger, more liberal and less known to me than the mid-size Texas cities I’ve called home. It occupies a complex position as the blue capital of a (largely) red state. It’s a music city, a hippie city, a defiantly-weird-but-also-gentrifying city. It’s too big to fully explore in one weekend, and it’s a place that continues to intrigue me.

I loved visiting my faves (Jo’s and BookPeople) on this trip, and discovering new loves (Güero’s, Vintage Bookstore & Wine Bar, Lady Bird Lake, Veracruz, so much public art). I’ve already got a mental list for the next time I go back, and I loved sharing a slice of my home state with a dear friend.

Have you been to Austin? Any recs for my next visit there?

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on Google Maps and discovery

Welcome to midwinter, I thought this week as I watched the snow swirl down outside my kitchen windows. The lows each night have been in the teens; the sidewalks are alternately salt-crunched and ice-treacherous; and the mourning doves are frequenting my windowsill. And per my (not just winter) tradition, I’m reaching for strong black teas each morning.

This week, I’ve been dipping into a silver bag of Canadian Maple tea, bought at Sullivan Street Tea & Spice Company on my recent trip to Manhattan. I’d love to be able to tell you I found it via a friend, or simply through wandering the streets near Washington Square Park. But although that is true of McNulty’s, Mercer Street Books and other places in NYC, I found Sullivan Street Tea through a different means: Google Maps.

I can’t remember where I was originally headed, but a couple of summers ago, when I zoomed in on the map to determine a route, Sullivan Street Tea popped up as a business nearby. So I stopped in, chatted with the owner, bought some blackberry tea and a handmade blue mug, and thought: I definitely have to come back here. Now, if I’m in the neighborhood, it’s one of the places on my NYC rounds.

I try to leave space for analog discovery when I’m traveling: to put my phone away, look at what’s around me, see where my feet might take me. But I also – for the sake of convenience or safety – end up using Google Maps to plot my routes or find a place to eat. And I’m surprised, sometimes, by what I discover: a store selling both books and pickles, a book and wine bar in the East Village, even a Pret when I really needed one.

We live – like it or not – in a technology-connected world, and sometimes I moan about the ways in which our phones take us out of our real lives. But the reverse is also true: technology can spur real-life discoveries, if we pay attention and follow our curiosity. I’m glad I took the all-important step of actually walking to Sullivan Street with my feet, and checking out the physical shop for myself. It may have started for me on Google Maps, but now it’s a real-life fave.

Has this happened to you? Any fun Google Maps discoveries to share?

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making my NYC rounds

Hello, friends. I’m just back from two bustling days in Manhattan, where I stayed at a new-to-me hotel in Chinatown and went running along the East River. I did some exploring in the East Village; sampled chai at the Chai Spot (thanks, Vanessa!); and popped into several bookshops I’d never visited, including Bonnie Slotnick’s darling cookbook store.

I love NYC for the breadth and variety it has to offer; it holds a million dazzling possibilities, and it’s so fun to dip into a few new ones, every time. But: I also have my NYC favorites, the places I must get to (or at least try to visit) every single time I’m there.

I usually head straight for Bryant Park on arriving, to escape the madness of Penn Station and grab some lunch. I search for glimpses of familiar skyscrapers: One World Trade, the Empire State, the elegant Chrysler Building (my favorite). This time, I also browsed the Strand, crowded on a Saturday night but wonderful all the same; ate a delicious brunch at Penelope, sitting solo at the zinc bar; and grabbed a sandwich at Elephant & Castle before going to hear Hilary Gardner sing jazz at Mezzrow. I’m never quite at home in NYC until my feet hit my favorite tangle of streets in the West Village, and I walk through the red doors at Three Lives (above).

Sometimes I wonder if this is the right approach: isn’t the point of a city like New York the discovery of new things, endless novelty, every time? Shouldn’t I be taking full advantage of all the city has to offer – or at least as much as I can squeeze in? (I did try; I went to the Museum of Broadway, met a friend for tea and scones in Soho, grabbed a cookie at Janie’s on Sunday night, and dipped into the Elizabeth Street Garden one afternoon.)

But as a friend or two reminded me: I love New York not only for its infinite novelty, but for the places within it that are now mine. I cherish Three Lives for its erudite selection, warm ethos and reliably excellent bookseller gossip. I know Elephant & Castle will never be crowded, and that the BLT with a fried egg and curry aioli will be delicious. When I’m tired or cold, overwhelmed or just hungry, I know I can head to my West Village home, and find my New York there.

I loved a lot of the new things I discovered this time (though I think I need a clearer plan, next time I dive into the East Village). But I also loved making my rounds, stepping into those familiar places: Pink Olive, Joe Coffee, Chelsea Market, the spots above. On that stretch of Greenwich Avenue, in sight of the Jefferson Market Library, I’m not only at ease in New York – I’m home.

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talking to strangers (in the UK)

Last month, I spent a few days in Oxford, celebrating my 40th birthday and reacquainting myself with so many familiar haunts and corners. I lived there for three blissful semesters during my student years, and even now it feels deeply familiar – like the lyrics to a song I may hear infrequently, but will never forget.

Even with that familiarity, this trip held some surprises: a Saturday spent strolling the Portobello Road market; an encounter with an author I love in the restroom queue at Paddington Station; the delights of exploring a village or two outside the city limits. But I noticed one surprise in myself: how much more readily I’ll talk to strangers now.

When I first came to the UK, I was a shy college student, uncertain of how to navigate this brand-new and fascinating place, and terrified of being branded a loud American every time I opened my mouth. (My English friends would now laugh at this. I’m not particularly loud, and with my English-rose complexion and my affinity for scarves, I’ve been mistaken for a local – or a Frenchwoman – more than once.)

My first semester in Oxford also fell during the George W. Bush years, when being an American abroad invariably invited questions about the invasion of Iraq. I learned to be pleasant but brief in those years, and I didn’t necessarily seek out conversations with strangers. The one exception: youth hostels, where I met people from various countries (including so many Australians) and where the rules around fitting in seemed to relax, as people played cards and cooked dinner and drank endless cups of tea (or glasses of sangria, in Spain).

On this trip, though, I found myself striking up conversations all over Oxford: in a tea shop when I stopped in for a cuppa mid-afternoon; at the yummy deli where I grabbed lunch on my first day; even with my Airbnb host, after she arrived home from a walking holiday.

On Sunday night, after a delicious Indian meal, I stepped outside and spotted Miles, the tall man who’d been sitting next to me at church earlier. I sat down to join him at his table, and spent a fascinating half hour hearing about the road trip he took around the States as a young man. And on my flight back from Heathrow, I ended up chatting for an hour with the man across the aisle – all about writing and mountains, travel and Wordsworth, and his 97-year-old mum, who writes salacious short stories and still loves rugby.

So much has changed since that first semester in Oxford, including (but not limited to) my confidence in myself. I’m more comfortable in my own skin now, happier to go beyond a casual greeting if someone seems like they’re up for it. I’ve always craved connection with others, but now I’m more confident in seeking it out. I love learning tidbits about people, even the kind you can get in a few minutes of conversation. (That is, famously, how I fell in love with my former partner – trading bits of news about music, the weather and our days.) And I am, forever and always, my father’s daughter. We used to tease my dad about being the type who’d talk to anyone, at a restaurant or a baseball game or in line at a theme park. It embarrassed me as a teenager, but now I admit it proudly: I’m not quite as gregarious, but I love chatting to people, just like him.

Of course, not everyone is up for a conversation; I got a couple of strange looks when I made a comment here and there. But most people seemed happy to smile back and exchange at least a pleasantry or two. It added a lovely layer to my long walks around my favorite city, soaking up the September sunshine.

How about you – do you talk to strangers or avoid it at all costs?

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Return to Mainely Murders

Back in 2017 or so, my then-husband and I went “upta Maine” for a weekend, and stumbled on Mainely Murders, a charming mystery-focused bookstore in Kennebunk. Ann and Paula, the owners, started the bookstore as their retirement project – 13 years ago – and they love talking mysteries with anyone and everyone. (Ann, whose taste skews toward the grittier side, kept saying to me, “You need to talk to Paula!” on that first visit – because Paula loves Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie and Laurie R. King as much as I do.)

I’ve been on their e-newsletter list since that first visit, and this spring I read that they’re closing up shop after the summer. So, on a recent weekend jaunt to southern Maine, I convinced my friends Jackie and Steve (and our host Rachel) to swing by Mainely Murders. It was – as ever – quirky and delightful and enchanting.

There’s a collection of potted plants dubbed “Our Garden Plot,” a bargain shelf outside the front door, and several themed carts (cozies, historical, etc.) plus a pair of wire chickens named Nick and Nora (!). Inside, we found shelves stuffed with books (organized by country – I’d forgotten about that), and Paula herself, who was happy to tell us all about each book, author and series that made us curious.

Jackie and I each ended up with a short stack – I snagged a Blanche White mystery, a British edition of a Mary Russell mystery, and a vintage mystery set on the London Underground. “I’m going to comment on all your purchases!” Paula declared as she rang us up, and I happily listened. (I was even able to tell her about the Lane Winslow series, which I adore.)

We wished Paula a happy (second) retirement and went on our way. I’m so thrilled to have returned to a charming store while I still had the chance – and, of course, happy to have a few new mysteries in my bag. More photos on my Instagram, if you’d like to see.

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#mondaydelights: NYC interactions.

Recently, I hopped down to NYC for a night, to see & Juliet (a fun, sparkly, feminist rewrite of Shakespeare’s tale with a powerhouse cast) and wander the West Village. I went to Three Lives & Company, of course, and swung down to TriBeCa to browse the Mysterious Bookshop, then walked over to Chinatown to check out Yu & Me Books (tiny, twinkly and packed with customers).

The whole time, one of the things I found most enchanting was the tiny, unscripted interactions between New Yorkers. I’m endlessly fascinated by the social glue that holds cities together, and I love being an observer (and sometimes a participant) in this city that’s become one of my second homes. Here are some of the snippets I adored:

The older woman in black sparkly Ugg boots who was clearly a regular at the C.O. Bigelow pharmacy (I think her name, which the pharmacist called out, was Nancy). The two 30-something friends sitting next to me at lunch, one of them giving the other a great deal of earnest relationship advice. The kind French couple who let me take my time ordering at Maman, when I was tired and hungry and overwhelmed. The three men – two 50-something, one probably 70-something – reminiscing and telling travel stories, including hitchhiking behind the Iron Curtain, at Elephant & Castle. The kind waitress who brought me soup, a BLT and hot chocolate that evening, and let me take the rest of the hot chocolate to go.

I always love eavesdropping at Three Lives, and this time was no exception: I heard book recs and ten-second reviews, plans for the weekend and bookseller gossip. A woman wearing red lipstick and carrying a stack of books declared, “Let me tell you my Three Lives origin story,” and proceeded to detail how she’d come into the shop for the first time on the anniversary of her father’s death. At Yu & Me Books, the young Black woman who rang me up was wearing my favorite Out of Print Princess Leia T-shirt, and we shared a moment about books and Star Wars.

Though I’m shy around strangers, once in a while I’ll respond to a comment I overhear, or compliment a stranger’s outfit; I did both this time. Two tall Midwestern women and I marveled at the size of the municipal buildings near City Hall. “It’s a lot bigger than mine at home,” joked one of them. And when I complimented a fellow theatre-goer’s gauzy black dress, she gestured to herself: “This whole look – twenty bucks! Amazon!” The best part was her grin, which was (obviously) priceless.

I’ve never lived in NYC, but it is mine, and these scraps of connection are part of the reason why. The glittering, human mosaic that makes up the city is a big reason I keep coming back. Eight million stories (and counting) – and I get to be a tiny part of some of them, every time.

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Local adventures: the North End.

On a recent Saturday afternoon, I took myself to Boston’s North End for some wandering, before meeting a friend and her kids for ice cream nearby. I’ve long enjoyed an occasional meal out there – the neighborhood is justly famous for its Italian food – but in the 12 years I have spent in Boston, I’ve rarely gone there simply to explore. It felt good to wander around while not worrying about making a dinner reservation, and I found a few new spots to enjoy.

My first stop, as you can tell from the photo, was I AM Books – a delightful Italian-American bookstore, which moved to its new home on Salem Street last fall. I’d never visited its first incarnation, to my shame, but this one is glorious. It has tons of space and an amazing selection of books about Italy, books in Italian, books on Italian food and culture, and books by Italian-American authors. I picked up a food memoir and some expensive (but delicious) chili-spiced chocolate.

The neighborhood has more than a few small shops, and I dropped into several: a funky vintage store, a sweet gift shop, a venerable wine shop with an incredible selection, a market called Going Bananas. There were lots of tourists around (it was a Saturday in July, after all), but it was fun to wander the streets as a local, picking up an item or two for dinner and noting restaurants I’d like to try soon.

My last stop was Salumeria Italiana, which my guy and I discovered only recently. Their sandwiches are delicious (and affordable!), but I was after something else: the briny mixed olives from their deli counter, which G loves. I picked up a bag of Tuscan crackers to go with them, and headed home via the T. I think I’ll save my next North End excursion for when the tourist traffic calms a bit – but it was still fun to explore a corner of my city in a way I rarely do.

What local adventures are you having, these days?

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Local(ish) adventures: Auspicious Brew.

Last month, my girl Jackie and I took off on a Saturday morning, heading north up Route 1 to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, about an hour from Boston. (After 12 years in New England, my Texas-girl sense of space still marvels that you can get to another state that quickly.)

Our main destination was Book & Bar, which has had a facelift since I was there last, and still feels full of literary possibilities. We browsed for ages, split a salad and some yummy pretzel rolls, had a long chat with one of the managers, browsed some more. Eventually, we left to wander the main drag (and get caught in a rainstorm). But Jackie had another destination in mind to cap off our day: Auspicious Brew, a kombucha brewery in nearby Dover.

I’d only had kombucha once or twice before, and wasn’t sure I liked it: the fermentation can make it taste real funky. But I’d never even heard of a kombucha brewery, and from the moment we walked in, I was utterly charmed.

The brewery is in a former industrial space that reminded me both of Downeast and of the Lower Mills buildings, near where I used to live. It’s bright and funky, with potted plants and twinkle lights and hand-painted signs. We tried flights of kombucha, choosing from the eight (!) flavors they had on tap, and I picked up a mix-and-match four-pack to take home to my guy. You can also order Mexican food from the restaurant down the hall – they’ll even deliver it right to your table. We were hungry after a day of shopping and schlepping, so we took full advantage.

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the kombucha: it reminded me of the fruity ciders I love, with a little extra funk and some creative flavors. (Concord grape and cardamom – the dark purple one above – was surprisingly delicious.) We sipped and talked and snapped photos and talked some more. I was delighted to try something new and tasty, and it was even more fun to share it with a friend.

What local(ish) adventures and/or fun libations are you having, these days?

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The return of local adventures

Last week, I hopped a Green Line train after work to go hear my friend Louise Miller have a books-and-baking conversation with fellow author Vallery Lomas. (I met another friend there, and we sampled treats afterward, and I hugged Louise and convinced my friend to buy her lovely first novel.)

The weekend before that, I volunteered as an usher at my favorite local theatre company and saw the excellent play The Book of Will for free. (Bonus: the witch hazel was out in the Public Garden.) And the weekend before that, my guy and I took the commuter rail up to Beverly, just north of Boston, where we ate and shopped and got caught in a snow squall, and took a long, rambling walk along the frozen beach, watching the birds and the light.

After a year and a half where we mostly stayed in our own apartments (or at least in our own neighborhoods) and/or felt safe doing mostly outdoor activities, it’s felt good to open myself up a bit again. The joy of local adventures – besides their accessibility – is the fact that they add serious magic to the everyday.

Some version of this phenomenon happens to me every spring: after curling up inside during the colder months, I love trying a few new restaurants, going for walks, planning visits to museums and generally enjoying the milder weather. Spring adds a bit of zing to life. But this year, going on a local adventure feels extra exciting. Whether that’s trying a new-to-us brunch spot with my partner, walking down unfamiliar streets or immersing myself in music or theatre for an evening, it feels revitalizing and fun.

What local adventures are you having these days?

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Summer adventures: 24 hours in NYC.

It’s no secret I love a solo trip to NYC. Some of my favorite memories of the Big Apple are from weekends spent wandering the streets by myself. My last trip there, though, was kind of a failure: it was January 2020, just days after my divorce court date. I thought I wanted an adventure to look forward to, but once I was there, all I wanted was to be back home. I came back early and didn’t regret it, but I’ve been wanting to revisit NYC alone (and basically unable to do so) ever since.

I hopped down to NYC a few weekends ago for my shortest trip to date: I was there for just over 24 hours, and it was a hot, humid whirlwind. But I loved wandering my favorite tangle of streets in the West Village, browsing bookstores and drinking my weight in iced tea. Here, a few highlights:

My beloved Three Lives & Co. is in a temporary space due to renovation, but I made sure to walk down West 10th to visit their new digs. I had a long browse and a lovely conversation with Nora, one of the booksellers, and bought a fabulous compendium of essays about Manhattan.

I headed straight for Bryant Park (see above) when I arrived, for lunch and a lemonade. But once I made my way to the Jane, where I stayed, I stuck to Chelsea and the Village all weekend.

I walked and walked – to Pink Olive, to Chelsea Market (above), to various shops that looked intriguing. I popped into cafes for iced tea and took photos of flowers and street art. And I had dinner at Roey’s (the most fantastic burrata pizza), and sat outside on one of my favorite corners in the city, sipping a gin cocktail and scribbling in my journal until nearly closing time.

Sunday morning meant a long run through the Hudson River Park (the High Line wasn’t open yet, but I loved discovering a new-to-me running route). Then I had a fantastic sandwich (with iced chai) at Three Owls Market, and wandered up to 192 Books, where I’d never been.

I grabbed some snacks for the train, walked around some more, and headed back to Penn Station to catch my train home. I was exhausted and delighted, and so glad I went. The city is waking back up, and it felt like mine again.

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