Fantasy Islands Week: Rangiroa, French Polynesia
It’s cold, gray—the best time to put on a bathing suit and commune with fish.
It’s cold, gray—the best time to put on a bathing suit and commune with fish.
There’s an excellent exhibition currently on display at the Morgan Library in New York on the Romantic Movement’s influence on landscape design. One of the mottos of the movement came from a line in a 1731 Alexander Pope poem, “Consult the genius of the place.” Translation: Preserve the wild, unadulterated beauty of the grounds and don’t overmanicure. I though about that line while walking last week in London’s Hampstead Heath with my family, friend Claire, and her adorable daughter, Evie. The rolling hillside is rich with old growth forest, shaded trails, long stretches of lawn, and streams, where we wound up feeding ducks and coots. After a week of fighting crowds at the National Gallery, Covent Garden, and the Tower of London, it was wonderful to spend the afternoon at arguably London’s best attraction, one of its many exquisite parks. On a weekday, Hampstead Heath was relatively quiet and off the beaten track enough to savor the serenity with locals. Only a few miles north of the city hubbub, it’s the perfect oasis.
If the thought of going to the Cape during February break seems absurd, take a look at the weekend weather, where Sunday could top 50 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s prime beach walk weather in these parts. But even if there’s a blizzard outside, your family will have a blast at Brewster’s Ocean Edge Resort during next week’s school break. Expect pizza pool parties around the two indoor pools, arts & crafts, family movie nights, indoor camping replete with your own teepee, and all the fun associated with Wizarding Week. Meet your fellow witches and wizards, grab your broomstick and wand, and compete in quidditch matches and other games to help win the House Cup. Another added perk is that kids eat free when parents dine for breakfast at Ocean Terrace.
Guest Post and Photo by Dana Volman
Numerous vendors, most who speak excellent English, will approach you in Turkey, and invite you into their shop for cay (tea). Some shop owners will even offer lunch and introduce you to their families. By all means, except and enjoy their hospitality. After tea, they will throw down carpet after carpet, explaining in detail the point of origin, age, materials, and processes of weaving, knot-tying, and wool-dying techniques. Undoubtedly you will feel indebted to your new friend. The owner knows this, because that’s when he hooks you.
“Which one do you like?”
“I love the one in the corner,” you say while lunging for the prized possession.
“Yes, you have a good eye. It is very fine workmanship. Over a hundred years old…How much are you willing to spend?”
You name a price and the owner shakes his head and laughs. He then looks at you and acts insulted. “I have to earn a profit. I have a family to feed.” Pangs of guilt emerge and before you know it, you’re walking out of the shop with a carpet you paid three or four time the normal price. This is the typical scenario and mistakes are plentiful. Here are some tips to assure that this won’t happen to you:
Never purchase a carpet in the first store you enter. By going into several stores before buying your carpet, you become knowledgeable about pricing and gain bargaining experience.
Act indifferent. If a shop owner realizes you love a carpet, he will overcharge you.
Make the owner quote the first price. Shop owners want you to say a price first. Don’t do it.
Test the age and quality. An older rug is usually more expensive than a new one. A slightly worn look can add to its charm.
Be patient. Bartering is time consuming. You might have to walk out of the store a number of times.
Never feel obligated to purchase a carpet. Since acting like a new friend is part of the shop owner’s sales tactic, this can be difficult. Never buy anything you don’t truly want.
One of the most memorable meals I’ve ever had as a travel writer was at the Inn at Bay Fortune on Prince Edward Island’s western shores. I arrived via kayak, courtesy of a four-day inn-to-inn sea kayaking jaunt; paddled onto the grassy shores and walked across the sloping manicured lawn. After washing the salt and rust colored sand from my body, I arrived for dinner expecting the usual PEI meal of lobster and mussels. Little did I realize that I was in for a culinary epiphany. The first course was pan roasted oysters in a soothing soup, creamy but not overwhelmingly rich like chowder. Then came a splendid salad of mixed greens where the waiter announced matter-of-factly that "everything is grown on the property, including the edible daisy." A seared rainbow trout topped with tomato risotto and black olives was followed by the meat course, a roasted leg of lamb, butchered by the farmer down the road. Dessert was a peach, strawberry, and mint compote, made on premises, of course.