Nothing better on a gray, dull Saturday than cupcakes and tea with my mother and sister. And some ambling around antique stores and little boutiques. It is the darkest time of year. A cupcake will always help, if just a little bit.
(Helsinki, Finland; November 2017)
Today we wanted to have the cake and eat it, too. And it was possible, because Hotel Sacher both serves and sells its famous torte. But who knew that the lunch menu at Café Sacher was so delicious? And that the walls were a bright red, and the china sparkling white? And the service so graceful. It all really became less about the cake and more about the entire experience.
The cake shop clerk recommended to not buy a big cake but single-serving cakes, if possible. Because there is more chocolate and jam per mass, and that makes it all so much better. We agree.
(Café Sacher, Vienna, Austria; February 2017)
Breakfast in Café Central, with white bone china. Where once Trotsky sat. And Freud, Adler, Tito, and even Lenin. The tea is still excellent, and so is everything else. Before 9 am it is quiet, but after 11 am there is a line lasting the rest of the day.
Afternoon coffee in Aida. One of the many pink places scattered around Vienna. Aida has a helpful guide for the bewildered tourist who thinks coffee is just coffee, whereas in Vienna it is avec a whole lot else, too.
And in Aida, cake is preferably taken “mit muziek”, or with music. Perhaps a shot of kirsch, or an amaretto. This fluffy pink establishment claims that in olden times, if one wished for a little shot of liquor, one only had to say one wished for a little music. Of course. (Only in Vienna….)
(Vienna, Austria; February 2017)
Wine, vaults, and wienerschnitzels. Viennese taverns are not really bars but restaurants where you can stuff yourself with delicious no-nonsense food and drink local wine. Either underground, or in heurigers (winemakers’ own local taverns). Expect simple comfort food and surprisingly good cheap housewines. And from time to time, awful local music.
And if you are not acquainted with Austrian wines, try a Riesling or Grüner Veltliner from Kamptal, or any -auslese (sweet dessert wines).
(Vienna, Austria; February 2017)
When in Vienna, order coffee like the Viennese.
Yes. This is what the drink looked like before I took a single sip. I believe it is one little espresso shot being crushed under a mountain of whipped cream.
The Einspänner really is more cream with coffee than coffee with cream. The story goes that an Einspänner was the favorite drink of the Viennese one-horse-carriage drivers: hot espresso coffee warming one’s hands, staying warm by the insulation of the massive heap of cream on top. If one got a customer, one could simply filter the hot coffee through the cold cream and drink it up in a few seconds.
I can think of no other city where horse carriage drivers have such a sumptuous and functional signature drink. And I cannot help but wonder if the original Einspänner did not contain a wee dram of booze, at least from time to time?
(Vienna, Austria; February 2017)
Business lunch at Eagle and Child with a quantum physicist, discussing medical sciences. Dinner at the Bear Inn, a pub from 1242, among 4,500 club ties (including one tiny panel in the ceiling for women’s ties). Instead of rowdy drunk people, there were ladies dining and students playing chess with glass pieces.
Only in Oxford. 
(Oxford, United Kingdom; January 2017)
Dinner at the Drug Opera. What we ate will remain untold.
(Brussels, Belgium; December 2016)
“Give us a B-side of Kathmandu”, we had said to our guide, some hours and adventures earlier. “Something you wouldn’t show to first-time visitors, something hidden.” As we walked down the steps into a dark alleyway in Kirtipur, avoiding a suspicious-looking dog, I wondered what we were up for this time.
We entered what looked like a traditional Newari family house: woven fiber mats on the floor; people sitting on terraces of different heights, sipping something from bronze cups; a man washing rice. Women sitting in a ring, preparing food in front of a fire. 
Our tablecloth was what looked like a flowery bed linen, spread out on the carpet. We sat on the edges of it, sharing the floor as a table.
We had to try the rice beer, our guide said. I was only one of 2 who finished their cup and I did feel dizzy afterwards. 
We had to try the food he said. All of it. And the bread, too. I’m glad we did. It was delicious. Apart of the black beans that set my mouth and throat and everything below it on fire.
Our Nepali colleague saw my photo on Facebook and commented laconically that we’d probably not make it to work the following day. Meaning that we would not make it further than 5 m from the toilet seat. Little did she know of the random places in which I’ve exposed my gastrointestinal system to much more serious challenges. This Newari restaurant was clean, cozy, and an absolute gem. Now if only I knew how to find it again!
(Kirtipur, Nepal; November 2016)
Ubud is a bustling town. Bygones are the times of donkey carts and topless women carrying baskets. Today, scooters and motorbikes rule. And cars. And us tourists. Ubud may be a shock for a day tripper, but the trick is to find the escapes in the back yards and side streets. For those who write or read, favorite cafés are escapes into tranquility. Like Café Wayan on Monkey Forest road, serving traditional Indonesian fare in a seemingly endless maze of a garden.
Or like Clear Café, the place that burned down on Jalan Hanoman and has found a temporary escape by the bridge to Penestanan village. Up at Clear it is cool and tranquil. And the frosted drinks and smoothies and juices make anybody’s day much better. Clear is a favorite of yogis and writers and readers.
In the hot mid-afternoon, it is highly likely that I end up at Atman Café on Hanoman. The highlight of any day is to settle down on a bunch of pillows, drinking ayurvedic teas, and reading a good book or writing a blog post. This is low profile living, seeking for contentment and letting go of the desire for more – if just for a moment. 
(Photos from Wayan’s and Clear; Ubud, Bali, Indonesia; August 2016)
Night caps. What a lovely concept. After a delicious dinner, when one is not really ready to go home or to bed, when one needs to linger and savor the night and one’s thoughts (or company), the answer is a night cap. There is nothing better than dipping into a quiet bar or lounge to listen to some jazz, piano music, or just the conversation of a friend. And yes, a drink is always in order. And yes, at this late hour nothing is off the etiquette, not even a hot chocolate in early July.
The hot chocolate at Hotel du Palais is famous. Liquid, sweet, melted chocolate, lightly whipped and poured into a hot jug. And there is always more, as you will not receive a cupful but indeed a jugful. Just what one needs to wrap up a perfect evening after the sun has set.
Biarritz, I will be back. I will be back when the sea rages, the whales pass by, and the lighthouse beam sweeps over the foaming water. I will let the wind work my hair into a new style and then sneak in to Hotel du Palais, bury myself into the corner of a couch, and sip hot chocolate in silence with a good book. Until then, you have a tiny piece of my heart.
(Biarritz, France; July 2016)
This blue marble 