Air BnB

The morning view outside of our Airbnb-rented place, a 7th-floor apartment whose owners were in Lisbon for the weekend. In a popular destination city, people are making good money by renting out their empty place, even for a simple weekend.

That sound you hear, the nervous rattling of hotel keys? (Ok, they don't really rattle anymore since most of them are plastic cards, but work with me). It's the sound of hundreds of thousands of hotel and motel industry executives as they ponder and fret over the emergence of Airbnb.

Airbnb, if you haven't already heard, is a person-to-person accommodation provider. The vacationer, tired of hotel prices and looking for a more authentic travel experience, contacts the owner, who has either a room or an entire apartment or home to rent out. The prices vary from very low-end dives to high-end villas, but you can set your price range and fully check out the photos and even speak with each other before committing.

If you don't mind (as a guest) living in a lived-in place, or (as a host) having strangers in your bed, Airbnb is an ideal arrangement. Over 2 million nights have been booked on it so far - that's a lot of empty hotel beds too.

We used this for the first time in Paris, and it worked perfectly. Compare 250Euros for three nights in a very nice place where you can eat your own food and feel much less like a tourist versus paying 350-400Euros for three nights in a lousy, cramped hotel. A quick stop to the grocery store downstairs, and 3 days' worth of breakfast for 15Euros later and nous rions!

Below, more sights from a sunny October weekend in Paris:

The view from Parc Belleville - also featured in earlier posts from 2010, but it seems there is always a different light and the Eiffel Tower always beckons.

Above, images from the flea market Marche aux Puces de Vanves. It had your standard flea market stuff - Elvis posters, creepy dolls in sailors' outfits - and, uh, THIS. I have no clue as to its origin, but I'm guessing it's not Brazilian:

Outside a busy Rue Saint-Martin. Some B,er - boys?

Along the Seine, dancers of a more wholesome sort, doing a brunch and a line dancing class. When I am 60+, I want to be line dancing on the banks of the Seine.

Paris, Encore

Anyone getting tired of the annual homages to Paris that you see on this blog? I hope not. And if so, just skip the next few days' worth of posts.

I visited Paris for the first time in 2008, and have been back four times since, once for work but mostly for pleasure. It's quite something to have an almost unrealistic fantasy-like image of a place, then to actually see it live up to your own hype. And it's again something else to get to know it, like somewhat of an insider, seeing its warts and all.

This most recent trip two weeks ago took me to some must-see places, both old and new. And yes, Paris has its warts. Seeing some of the abject poverty and homeless people is still jarring, particularly coming from Amsterdam where it is less visible (whether that means it's less of a problem, I'm not sure). It is easy - perhaps too easy - to not even see the Parisian homeless, with all the amazing things to see in every arrondissement.

Alors, among the new: Day 1 meant a visit to Parc des Buttes Chaumont, an urban park of rolling hills, dramatic rocks, and even the odd waterfall. The colours were just starting to change too. A great new place to check out, get some fresh air and walk off the morning's excess pastry intake.

Also enjoying his first day at the park was a 3-month old dog we came across whose owner told us was seeing grass for the first time ever. Watching this little white ball go nuts with sheer joy was a highlight of the trip - makes you think about the last time you enjoyed a first time doing something, and serves as a good reminder to seek out some new first times.

No photos of the little guy, unfortunately - too busy petting him and fending off his happily savage bites - but he looked something like this, except with grass on him:

And now for the rest of the park...

The Other Side

Carcavelos, Portugal - October 2010

Our life consists partly in madness, partly in wisdom; whoever writes about it merely respectfully and by rule leaves more than half of it behind - Montaigne

In other words, in recounting the places and events of the past 12 months on this blog - while they have been fantastic by many measures - I should not over-romanticize things by obscuring the rough patches.

Some stormy skies have rolled in very occasionally, but lately they have become more frequent. Maybe there has been some research done on this phenomenon, but I will call it the Traveler's Wall. Or maybe something catchier, like Expat Excrement.

Culture shock plays a part for sure, as does the loss of all things familiar - your friends, your car, your surroundings, your subscription to Sports Illustrated.

We know this when we travel - after all, we do so specifically to lose those very familiar things for a while and to re-energize. Having this knowledge does make the tough times much easier, especially when considering how lucky most of us are in the big picture. But to not mention the less-than-ideal times seems somewhat dishonest to the people reading this blog.

Some moments have been written about - the short but jarring terror scare in May, the simple acknowledgment of there being days like this.

Others have not been mentioned:

• the quiet misery of a Paris hotel room in the midst of a snowstorm over the holidays.
• getting soaked to the bone at 3am when biking home alone, with a fever, from a pub while your entire home country celebrates an Olympic gold medal thousands of kilometers away.
• needing to use a highly dubious restaurant toilet - complete with folding door that closes with a magnet and a timer that leaves you in total darkness after 40 seconds - for several days in Lisbon due to a broken home commode.
• countless hours of lonely time spent on public transit in a strange place.
• several days where I didn't need to be anywhere nor did I have any idea where to go anyway.
• waking up several mornings to see one of Amsterdam's million mice emerge from a toaster or swimming in a pot in the sink.
• the unending amount of dog crap on European streets. Seriously people.

It's all what you focus on of course. I've traded the above for many, many more hours of great experiences and learnings. Plus, each of the above can ultimately be used positively at the same time (who wouldn't enjoy some quiet time to themselves rolling through the Dutch countryside?) or at least laughed at. Humour is a great balm, even if it's hard to find in the exact moment.

But lately, the resilience has worn off a little, the energy has waned, the funny stuff has been more difficult to unearth. Done traveling? No, never. But a post coming soon highlights a few signs that a break from the unfamiliar is due.

Last Post from Paris

Another Parisian visit is in the books, with the author's irrational and hopeless infatuation with the place showing no signs of abating.

Even with a ridiculous cough and ridiculouser fever - one which makes you make up new words - the city provided enough good meals and epic views to soothe the soul.

Meet Lois and Dick, from Dallas, Texas. They were visiting Paris for six days, had matching shirts, said they planned to spend at least two nights dancing the jitterbug, and are the couple that you want to be when you're older.

Crepe avec stewed apples, caramel ice cream, and calvados brandy.

Part of an exhibit devoted solely to rare trees

Notre Dame at night

The best spot on the continent

Ok, send me your alternatives and other suggestions, but for a personal favourite place on the planet I have to go with the Marie de Medicis fountain in Paris' Jardin du Luxembourg.

I'm guessing that Thomas Francini - the man who drew up the plans for it in the 1600's - could not have the imagined the happiness that his creation would elicit in a dorky Canadian tourist some 400 years later. But in case his descendants read random blogs about travel, thank you M. Francini. Sincerely.

The place is just steps away from busy St-Michel boulevard in the heart of Paris, but it is an almost silent urban oasis any time of day.

It is lined with chairs for anyone to sit down and eat lunch, read a book, draw, make out, take photos, contemplate life, meditate, or just plain sit and drink it in.

The first six photos here are all from the exact spot of the fountain itself, shot from various angles and one with a Hipstamatic lens; the others, from the Jardin du Luxembourg overall.

I also babbled on about this place almost a year ago in a similar post, so I will let the pictures speak for themselves from this point onwards.

Encore

Pleasure is the beginning and the goal of a happy life - Epicurus

Europe has reminders of this around every corner it seems, and Paris is the prime example. I'm here for a few days this week, and the city's ability to provide pleasure for the eyes, mouth, nose, and brain is endless.

Day 1 included a metro strike (having just left one in London too), visits with friends, a walk through the Marais, baguettes, cheese, and wine.

Day 2 involved more visits, and a trip to one of the best spots on earth, Shakespeare and Company bookstore. This was followed by a random stop in a small courtyard cafe, where an art exhibition essentially exploded around us.

Day 3 - a walk along Promenade Plantee, a long stretch of gardens across an old aqueduct and then to Parc Belleville, one of the best spots from which to see the city (and almost completely devoid of tourists), then an amazing burger in a tiny spot in one of Grand Boulevrds' passages, basically covered alleys with wine stores, restaurants and stylish folk.

Day 4 - still occurring.

Quelques images from the last few days.

A side view of Notre Dame

Part of the art exhibition

Arts et Metiers metro station

The view from Parc Belleville, environs 16h30

The view from Parc Belleville, environs 17h00

Atop the Bastille monument

Along Promenade Plantee

The stairs at Parc Belleville