Pinkguacamole Travels

London, Again

My trip to the French Riviera in September was a prelude to meeting up with family in London.

My parents were gearing up to bike around France and Spain, so we decided to meet in London at their start to visit my dad’s aunt Myra, who was 92 years old and openly ready to move on.

I had been lucky to stay with Myra many times 10 years ago when I lived in Paris and traveled around Europe. I did not realize how nostalgic being back in London would be, but it was fitting considering how much my time in London impacted me with various coming of ages I’d experienced and how much I learned from Myra during those stays.

In 2013 it was the first place I traveled alone and I spent many melancholy walks around the city, curious to explore but unsure of what to do with myself. I eventually found my groove and had a lot of interesting experiences with new people all over.

A year later, London was where I launched my bike ride across Northern Europe, which was an intimidating adventure I had to have.

All the while, the diverse community in the East End of London where Myra lived was where I began to dismantle my American indoctrination regarding Muslim and Arab stereotypes and where I truly began to grapple with the misinformation I’d received regarding Palestine. My aunt Myra was an activist who’d spent her life protesting nuclear weapons, war, and standing against any systems that further marginalized communities.

Being back in London, I managed a few of my standard melancholy and reflective solo walks™️ and I also had the chance to show my parents how London is the craziest and scariest place I’ve ever biked but if you take a canal path, you can at least have a clear shot to where you are going. Otherwise the city streets are winding and narrow so there isn’t room for bikes and you could easily be going south when you think you are going north. I was still terrified but my parents loved it.

I am really grateful I had a chance to see Myra before she passed away a few weeks ago in December. The last photo in this roll is from an anti-nuke protest I attended with her on the anniversary of the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki. Thanks Myra, I will continue the fight.

Menton, France

Along the French Riviera there are many colorful villages on the sea. Right before the border of Italy, there is an orange and pink town called Menton that is famous for growing lemons. In and out of history it has been a part of Monaco, but it’s now part of France.

The day I went to Menton, I’d been planning to take the train to other small villages and maybe to Ventimiglia, the first town across the border in Italy and the last town on the French line. When the train got to Menton, an announcement was made that there were issues on the rail so we had to get off there. My fate was decided. Menton it was.

I walked through town to the water and meandered along the perimeter of the sea along paths and a harbor and a bastion (small fort). The views of the colorful town on a hill were gorgeous against a sunny blue sky. Then I made my way into the village. I wove my way through small passages and picturesque doorways to the top, sometimes turning a corner into another gap between buildings with blue sea hitting the orange walls. Stunning.

At the top, I walked around a cemetery then left the old town to walk back down to the sea through residential neighborhoods. I came across another train station and thought I would try to take the train across the border to Italy, but then I saw a lot of border patrol entering another train and remembered that I forgot my passport at the hotel (whoops). Sometimes in the EU, passports aren’t checked and I usually don’t like to have mine on me in case I get pickpocketed. But this didn’t look promising.

I left the train station and walked back to the water. There was a sign that said the border was 1,000 meters away, so I strolled closer to see if I could just walk into Italy (for the hell of it). But no, more border patrol. Fair.

I went back through town and the train station to head back to Nice. The train leaving Menton was delayed and when I finally boarded, I got a text that it would be the last train of the day, many hours before the usual end of service. I realized that if I had gone to Italy, I likely would have been stranded there.

The universe did not want me going to Italy that day!! It worked out, Menton was lovely.

One thing about Monaco is that there are a lot of shiny surfaces- perfect for mirror selfies.

Some other things about Monaco: Grace Kelly was an American actress and married the late Prince Rainer III in 1956. She died young in a car accident but made a massive cultural impact. Her son Prince Albert II is the reigning leader of the city-state and you can take tours of his palace. The famous Casino de Monte-Carlo from the James Bond movies is in Monaco and citizens of Monaco are not allowed to gamble there. Monaco is a tax haven for the rich and the harbor is filled with super yachts. The bus system isn’t bad and there are electric bikes to ride around, but the city doesn’t have many accessible paths for biking (I kept getting stuck on stairs with a bike 🙃). The old town is on a hill with a palace and great views and what seems like a pretty deserted residential area with colorful apartments and small alleys. The names of the royal family are very similar to the names of the family in the Princess Diaries (so obviously Monaco stole from Disney). It’s an easy train ride from Nice or the border of Italy!

And that’s what I learned in Monaco.

Not the Eze-iest Hike

There is a train route that goes along the Mediterranean coast in France with relatively frequent trains unless there are delays or strikes!! While I was staying in Nice, I thought I’d catch a train to Monaco but visit the medieval town of Eze along the way. Everything I read said Eze village would be an hour hike from the train station, so naturally I left the hotel in Birkenstocks and not enough water and went for it.

The Nice train station was chaotic so I never had a chance to buy more water and there wasn’t anywhere by the Eze stop to buy water before ascending the hill… so up I went with half a bottle or so. It was steep and hot and rocky, and sure I was in sandals, but you know, I’ve done this before and you always make it up to the top eventually.

When I got to the top I recovered for a bit with 5 bottles of water and a nice lunch at a restaurant, then I wandered into the Medieval village. It was cute with shops and cafes but extremely crowded and narrow. It reminded me of Mont Saint Michel, another winding village of narrow paths now converted to disneyland with colorful signs and goods.At the top of the village there was a garden with some beautiful views of the coast and town below.

Eventually when it was time to move on to Monaco, I made my way to a bus stop on the main road. There was conflicting information about when a bus would come, but aside from hiring an expensive (and potentially non existent) uber or hiking down, this was my best bet.

Eventually a bus came and other tourists filled it to the brim as we made our way down the hill back to the train station. And I caught the train to Monaco! I was excited to visit one of the most luxurious countries on earth covered in sweat and dirt in my Birkenstocks 👌🏼.

Je ne regrette rien

In September I visited Nice, France.

This was the French city of my childhood dreams and stories. I think images of Nice are what led me to want to live in France in my 20s. Ironically, I never made it down to Nice when I lived in Paris despite seeing many other regions while I was there. But there I was, finally in the quintessential vacation capital of Europe, promenading on the Promenade des Anglais where the English Aristocracy would holiday 200 years ago and onward.

It was strange to be back in France, which was so familiar yet jarring in its own way. I tried to spend a day relaxing at a fancy beach club, but spent the whole time looking at maps to plan my walks, so I left so I could wander.

I weaved my way through narrow streets, markets and alleys, I climbed any hills I could find, I ebiked around the harbor, I let random men walk with me so I could practice my French until I got sick of them and found a way to breakaway, and I ate at bistros and cafes whenever the atmosphere seemed right.

Being back in France was a strange mirror to myself from 10 years ago- I still had the same urge to explore and contemplate (and brood), but I had more money to enjoy what was around me, and more sense on how I wanted to spend my time. Je ne regrette rien.

This post pairs well with Edith Piaf: https://youtu.be/Q3Kvu6Kgp88?si=HZacd5Nl8Gk5E-Gg

A Little Walk around Lisbon

At the end of August, I was on my way to Nice, France and I had a 5 hour layover in Lisbon, Portugal. It looked like the city wasn’t too far from the airport so I decided to uber into town and walk around for a bit. (This was a good choice also because the airport itself is a mess with no comfortable places to wait).

The moment I got into the city center, I was hit with the nostalgia of landing in a European city in the early morning smells of smoke and baked goods, sleep deprived and curious, carrying all of my luggage on my back and ready to explore.
This was my first time back in Europe after spending a year and a half there backpacking and bikepacking around, and living in Paris (and sometimes London) 10 years prior.

So I walked. I walked up and up the hills and made my way to the water so I could see the 25 de Avril Bridge which looks like the Golden Gate back home. I made my way to the Praça do Comércio plaza and had breakfast and a Pastel de Nata while facing the water and reading about Sardines and the history of Lisbon as one of the oldest cities in the world and the role it played in the Roman Empire.

Then I kept walking through the hills. I walked up and up and up and I came across Castelo de São Jorge. This castle originated in the 1st century BCe and overlooks the city. It’s good I randomly came across this, because if I had just googled highlights, this would have been the place to go…Glad something seemed to pull me up there 😅.
I ran around the castle for a bit, looking down at the waves of red roofs on hills along the water, so happy that I was able to have this unexpected time in a remarkable place.

Then I made it back to the city center to catch a taxi back to the airport and make my flight to Nice. This was a perfect re-entry to remembering a time where all I did was walk around cities and write about what I saw. The social media mediums have changed and most content is shared through videos instead of words, so I am a bit stuck. But maybe I’ll post some of my stories from this trip now that I have downtime.

The media and our institutions want you to believe that the Pro-Palestine protests on campuses across America are a dangerous place for Jews and students.

But these protests are Love, Community, and Resistance.

Here are some things that my friends and I participated in while we were there last night:

The crowd formed a circle around the Muslim attendees while they prayed at sundown. I got emotional as I looked at the sunset, side by side with my friends and other allies, understanding the power of what was going on behind me.

Then the crowd said the prayers for Shabbat as the candles were lit and bds-approved Matzah was served because it’s Shabbat and also Passover. It meant a lot to me to sing the prayers from my upbringing in the Jewish community in this space. I have struggled with my religious identity my whole life, but I am certain that the G-d I learned about in Sunday school would never ever believe genocide is justified. That G-d would not want us to turn against our neighbors and hate people who are different from us. I can only sing these prayers in this community now.

Then women from Harriet’s Wildest Dreams, a Black-led community defense hub in DC led songs of freedom.

These protests are community care. They are love. These student encampments are a vision of the beautiful world we want to live in: side by side, in community. In support and peace and cultural traditions and love and religion and humanity.

Do not let anyone tell you this should be feared.

We must follow the example of these students to fight against the institutions that tell us this division, this devastation, this dehumanization, and these wars are essential. They are not. They never have been.

Every day that the United States government financially and vehemently supports Israel’s actions in Gaza, we lose hundreds of more innocent people. Families, teachers, students, doctors, chefs, men, women, children, babies

PEOPLE

PEOPLE

PEOPLE.

Where is our humanity?

Moving up the line of Longitude at about 64 degrees West, back to a land with a little more blue and green, I spent a nice few days relaxing and hiking in Ushuaia- part of the Tierra del Fuego province and Patagonia region of Argentina. The first few photos are from a hike in Tierra del Fuego National Park, next few are from around town and the last ones are from a large museum in an old prison. The cells were individual exhibits. One hall was made to look like it did while it was in use and it was extremely creepy. I also pretended to watch the world cup round 16 game where Argentina beat Australia. There were celebrations in the street!!

More Wildlife in Antarctica!!

Okay, here is my last Antarctica post (most likely). For the afternoon of day 3, after I hiked up the hill on Cuverville Island and saw the clearest and most majestic view of Antarctica, we cruised around on zodiacs to see wildlife. We saw a weddell seal plopped on the shore and another chilling on the ice. We cruised through the gorgeous iceberg landscapes. Someone mentioned that no one is going to want to see a bunch of pictures of ice, but I think every angle and view was beautiful.

Later on I was supposed to kayak again, but winds were too high so we went out on zodiacs again for our last interaction with Antarctica. It was windy and snowy and icy but right as we got out there, we saw a few humpback whales circling around. Then we saw two Adelie penguins sitting on an iceberg in the middle of the bay. Along the shore we saw a chinstrap penguin bouncing around. We sat and we took in the splendor of it all.

Due to an incoming storm we had to head back to South America a day early to avoid problems on the Drake Passage. This meant sitting on the boat passing time for 3 days, but another ship ended up having a serious mishap in that same storm, so it was for the best. There was lots of dancing and trivia. The afternoon that we left Antarctica, I sat in the hottub in the back of the ship as it continued to snow and we pulled away from the blurry dream of it all.

The group I went with was organized by a travel writer I have followed for 9 years, @youngadventuress. It was a great trip!!