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Prenzlauer Berg… The soho/village of Berlin

So my ankles are aching and I have begun to bore a hole in my sandals which I fear may not make it to Poland. But Berlin is worth it. Today, on a perfect sunny day, I set out for Prenzlauer Berg, a trendy neighborhood with leafy pocket parks, pretty architecture, fun boutiques, and one enticing restaurant after another. Sort of reminded me of a mix of the east and west village of NYC. I hAve been using a somewhat outdated but still useful guidebook my London friends lent me, called 100percent Berlin, which has six walks. Beyond the fact that they are longer walks than my feet can handle, they steered me to some good spots, including Kulturbrauerei, a sprawling complex of art venues in an old brick brewery complex; the shops around Kollwitzplatz, And shops along Kastanienallee. Some boutiques didn’t take credit cards, which is a bummer. Alone took visa but not MasterCard; another took MasterCard, not American Express. I bought a few high design little paper journals, a retro Berlin tea towel, and two little cardboard VW buses that you assemble (the whole store was these ingenious cardboard things that you assemble, from boxes to waste baskets). (See http://www.werkhaus.de) The paper store was called Georg Buchner Buchladen.

I had the best chicken schawarma hummus I have ever had at Babel, a popular Lebanese place on Kastanienallee. Lots of people were eating at picnic tables there, which did turn out to be a good sign. Each slice of chicken had a crispy crust full of flavor but the meat was still moist. How can that happen? I also had a delicious chocolate bottomed macaroon at Lindner, one of the many pastry shops.

I went on to the Berlin Wall Documentation Center which gave me a far better understanding of the wall and what it did to Berliners than sites like Checkpoint Charlie. First of all, you get it visually because a section of the wall (or walls since there were actually two walls facing each other across a grassy no man’s land) remained. And stretched out across a long corridor of grass where remnants of some a building and church that were knocked down to build the wall. There were also displays with photos and recordings and old home movies showing how the wall tore families apart (one in particular showed a couple getting married on one side of the wall while the bride’s parents watched from a window on the other side). There were also photos and movies of people jumping out of windows in buildings lining the wall so they could get to the west…including a nine months pregnant woman. And then there were photos of people being evicted from these buildings and the building windows being bricked up to stop the jumpers.

From there I went to the grand Neue Synagogue which was built to resemble the Alhambra in Granada in the 1800s, but didn’t survive the war, nor did most of its community, of course. Some parts have been restored and there is an interesting exhibit about jewish life now and then, plus you can schlep to the dome for great city views. Definitely worth a visit.

On the way back to the s Bahn I picked up at excellent pork Vietnamese Bahn mi sandwich (hey, I am nothing if not a reform Jew, and an Iowa transplant, hence the love of pork) at Babane, a “banh mi deli” which I am eating at a table on the fifth floor roof top patio of my lovely hotel in Wilmersdorff. On the way back here I stopped to people watch for awhile at the Brandenburg gate, which is awash in tourist of all stripes. my favorite site was two veiled middle eastern women taking a photo, as requested, from a guy in a cowboy hat! I took the other scenic bus west, the 100, which did not disappoint.

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Richmond Park, Gatwick, Berlin

Lovely last day in London with my friends. We rode bikes along the Thames towpath, from Mortlake to Richmond Park, easy and scenic ride. Later road back through the park.

My friends dropped me off at Clapham Junction where I had an easy two stop train ride to Gatwick which was packed with people and a bit confusing to figure out the Easyjet procedure but my Berlin flight left on time, my carry on luggage did fit in the overhead, albeit awkwardly. It was much easier than I thought it would be to get to my hotel. As promised, the bus arrived right on time outside the airport and it took me to Rudow where I transferred to the U7 subway. It is a bit odd because you just walk into the subway, without passing through any ticket stalls. The ticket you buy at the airport for the bus can be used within three hours for the train and I guess vice versa.

I found my hotel artemisia quickly, an imposing white building on a quiet street and I pressed the code into a key box and sure enough the box spit out two keys i needed to get into the front door and into the hotel and my room on the fourth floor. It’s an odd arrangement with the hotel occupying the two top floors of a building i gather is otherwise residential. But it worked. The only thing I cannot get to work is my ipad internet access. Had problems with this in London too and not sure what the issue is but fortunately this computer is available via the hotel. One odd thing is the German keyboard is different so everytime I try to type a y it comes out as a Z. So I may have to go by Betsz here instead of Betsy…..

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Iowa girl done good in London! Pickle & Rye American sandwich shop

Met a talented young American couple at their cheerful sandwich shop in the London neighborhood of Mortlake yesterday. Val Miller grew up in Grinnell, Iowa, went to school at Central College in Pella, Iowa, fell in love with London during a semester abroad here (I did the same decades before.) While traveling around Europe, she met Alex Minor who grew up in Delaware, went to culinary school in San Francisco, worked in a restaurant in Italy. Three years ago, They opened their smart upscale shop called Pickle & Rye, serving large, well built, yummy sandwiches and are doing so well they are opening a second larger one nearby. The shop is decorated with U.S. tchotkes including mugs from Iowa and Des Moines on the tables. What a kick for Iowans in particular, and for my English friends who have visited us several times in Iowa. Did I mention the sandwiches are delicious? It is easy to see why they are doing well, given the quality of the food and their friendly Yank personalities. They are getting married soon in Grinnell and are determined to ride Ragbrai next summer, which I have been trying to convince my English friends to do for years. Word has it Richmond is home to the most Americans in London, but the customers I saw there were Brits.

On a crisp sunny day, we walked along narrow lanes lined with hearty flowers spilling over old brick walls to Barnes, which feels very much like a country village at times. we bought spelt flour, duck eggs, homemade hummus, crumpets and Florentines at the small outdoor Saturday market, then walked back up along the Thames to Mortlake Common where the local school was putting on a little fair. Then I feel asleep on a chair in my friends’ peaceful garden.

Later we went to an excellent Nepalese restaurant with an amusing name, The Greedy Buddha, in my old stomping ground of Fulham with my former neighbors from 34 years ago on Sullivan Road in Parsons Green, providing a little reminder of who I once was.

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Lewes, Brighton, Christ hospital school — road trip from London

So how did I find myself at a school concert last night at a posh boarding/day school outside London in Horsham? These are the kind of places (not all so posh but places offering a glimpse of everyday life) that I have ended up during my 34 year friendship with my London pal F. She goes, I tag along because she knows I am always game to see how people live in England…and beyond.

Our day began with a road trip south from London through Surrey past roadside stands selling strawberries and cherries to the lovely medieval town of Lewes, with ancient buildings made of shiny black chunks of Flint, lining hilly narrow lanes, surrounded by the rolling green hills of the Chalk Downs. Pretty place that I rode my bike around decades ago. We had a perfect ploughmans lunch at an old pub, The Pelham Arms, with a delicious slab of local Brighton blue cheese, and Stowford Press hard cider, window-shopped at a 15th century bookshop, visited the local castle ruins, brewery (Harvey’s) and the lovely gardens and craft shop at a stately house. The popular restaurant Bill ‘s was busy.

it was a short drive to Brighton, where the novel I have twice tried to write will be set in part, if it is ever written. The pier with its old fashioned arcade and Ferris wheel was as other-era as ever; the Brighton Pavillion, the folly of a bygone Royal, as exotic and odd as ever; the lanes with little shops posher than I remembered. Apparently Brighton is on an uptick, known to some as London by the Sea. We shared a cream tea at Darcy’s seafood, a quaint little place that was hard to find a second time (when I ran there to retrieve F’s bag, which she’d left behind). Some nice hipsters in a pub used their smartphones to locate the tearoom for me. (Help this poor woman out, one said. She’s got problems. She’s American and she lost her bag!)

We also shared some excellent fresh fish and chips (plaice and chips, technically) at a little takeaway place on a road that ends at the Brighton Beach Ferris Wheel, a strange sight.

The Big Band concert we went to turned out to be at the imposing Christ’s Hospital School, which has lots of stately red brick buildings laid out across wide open playing fields and A quad. Students wear rather severe looking black uniforms that look a little like cossacks tunics. the place reminded me a bit of the high school I went to in suburban Detroit, whose design was inspired by Cranbrook School in Kent, about 30 miles east of Lewes. The school has an unusually diverse student body because it works hard to admit kids who have had some hardships, and has a sliding scale fee structure based on ability top pay. (how refreshing.) The band included some talented teenagers playing trumpets, saxophones, trombones, (one the nephew of a friend of F’s which explains why we werer there). They played mostly jazzy arrangements of American classics from bygone eras, from Aretha’s “Respect” to Leonard Skynard’s Freebird to “Big Noise from Winnetka.” And to think I was near the real Winnetka (Illinois) about a week ago.

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Chelsea Physic Garden, Ottolengi, Islington

Another superb day in London, the weather not too hot or too cold, sun popping out and in, putting sunglasses on and off, scarves on and off throughout the day. I met another longtime friend M. At Sloane Square tube station and we sauntered along the Kings Road, stopped for a cappacchino (tea for me) at a smart cafe, Manicomo Poco, browsing through the modern art at the free saatchi gallery and then going to the lovely Chelsea Physic Garden, London’s oldest botanical garden! about 340 years old, hidden in prime real estate along Cheyene walk beside the Thames. beautiful spot with gardens organized by the flowers and herbs medicinal purposes. Cool idea. there is also a pretty cafe in an old fashioned airy dining room with tables outside in the garden. We had delicious salmon baked in some sort of puff pastry with currants, a tangy gruyere and tomato pie, salads, homemade lemonade.

Next stop Islington in northwest London where we had the best meal of all at Yotam Ottolenghi’s flagship restaurant. the restaurant is small and airy and down to earth and was full at 6 pm on a Wednesday. Good thing we booked our table weeks ago. the food was as good as it looks in the Ottolenghi cookbook I use back in Iowa. We shared four small plates that were substantial portions, each excellent. I cannot remember having such devious eggplant aka aubergine, thick slices cooked perfectly in olive oil, seasoned with some mysterious favors, moist, not bitter or dry, topped with a cool yoghurt sauce. Fabulous. I will no doubt be trying and probably failing to duplicate it for months to come in Iowa. My other favorite plate I couldn’t begin to duplicate…zucchini flowers stuffed with a creamy white ricotta, and part of the zuccini itself, lightly battered and fried tempura style. The desserts were fantastic. We picked from a wide selection on displace, a wedge of moist rum and chocolate cake, with only a faint rum taste and a creamy tangy lemon marscapone tart. Perfect. Prompt and pleasant service too.
I took the no. 4 bus from the angel tube stop to Waterloo, sitting in my favorite seat, top deck, front seat, with great views of some of my old haunts, The Barbican, where M. Used to live, Shoe Lane where M. And I once shared offices, along Fleet Street, which we knew back in its newspaper days. Across the Thames past Big Ben and another place I worked many years ago, the Houses of Parliament. magical still and always for me.

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London unplugged , minus cell phone or iPad test

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Meeting an old friend on our Des Moines bike ride: Sister Vicious Power-Hungry Bitch (no joke!)

Meeting up with an old friend at DSM Pride Fest - Sister Vicious Power Hungry Bitch and another Sister of Perpetual Indulgence!

Meeting up with an old friend at DSM Pride Fest – Sister Vicious Power Hungry Bitch and another Sister of Perpetual Indulgence!

I didn’t expect to bump into an old friend on our weekly Sunday bike ride in Des Moines but as we rode into the East Village, the scene was livelier than usual – much livelier thanks to the annual PrideFest. And amidst the rainbow clad revelers I saw a bunch of white-faced nuns and realized they must be the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence – a famous group of gay activists from San Francisco. About 14 years ago, I wrote a profile for the Des Moines Register of one of the leading sisters who just happened to be from Des Moines: Sister Vicious Power-Hungry Bitch.Here’s Sister Vicious’ story about how it all began in the 1970s at the University of Iowa! He/she was charming and it was one of my favorite stories ever – and there she was (she’s the sister in red) back in Des Moines where apparently she spends every summer (She lives most of the year in San Francisco’s Castro district.) We had a nice catch little chat! Can’t recall the name of the other sister in the pix but good to see them.It all began with four gay nuns in Iowa!!

That wasn’t the only excitement on our 32-mile ride  – we left and returned under cloudy skies which briefly turned into a downpour near the Saylorville Dam on the Neal Smith trail. We waited it out then rode through another brief shower but it could have been worse – and certainly looked worse than it was. The weather has been so lousy, especially during these “June” weekends that us bicyclist are resigned to riding in the rain if need be, especially to get in our RAGBRAI training hours. Gnats were omnipresent (I got some in my mouth and ears.) And we even came across some Bow-fishers – yes, guys fishing with giant bows near McHenry Park and North High on the trail. (I thought they were bow-hunting deer at first).

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Morning in the sacred valley, peru

I am sitting in a garden with orange, red, white, purple and ink flowers lining a green lawn bordered by a three foot high stone wall. And just beyond that mud brick houses with worn red stucco tiled roofs and just beyond that huge heather colored mountains on all sides, the tops shrouded in clouds. Rising up from the mountain directly across from me are the tannish brown walls of a terraced fortress. these are the ancient Inca ruins of the ollantaytambo fortress that we climbed yesterday afternoon. Spectacular. And they are what we see in the morning as we open the French doors of our second floor room here at Apu Lodge. (see photo below.) There are also the sounds, water cascading down the mountains along the channels lining the narrow cobblestone lanes bordered by high stone walled buildings that open into courtyards and gardens; the varied calls of birds, the occasional crowing rooster and barking dog.

This village is particularly magical at night when most of the tourist buses have cleared out. We ate last night at El Alburgugue the well known old hotel for travelers that is located outside of the village along the train tracks that take people to Macchu Pichu. I had to eat simply since my stomach was still on the fritz but the food was good, especially Noah’s lamb and our shared after dinner brownie. We walked back on a dark street lining the river with the stars very bright in a sky unburdened by street lights, past the town square and then onto our cobbled lane with the water rushing along the channel. We all slept very well.

We also ate lunch at Paki Rumi near the ruins…good albeit atypical burritos as promised. We sprung for the boleto touristica, a 10 day pass that gets you into attractions ina nd around Cusco, not machu Pichu, of course. About 170 soles or 70 dollars. Not sure it’s a good deal but easy. We spent 50 soles on a guide named Wilson at the ruins, well worth it. And 100 soles for the driver from cusco, again worth it.

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Monasterio Santa Catalina in Arequipa

Wow! We were blown away by this sprawling, spectacular 16th century monastery. Talk about a visual feast. One beautiful sight after another. The monastery is sort of a self contained mini walled in city with one vaulted “cell” after another for the cloistered nuns, who as I understand it were usually girls from well to do families who lived much better than your everyday nun. Their quarters were often spacious and the thick stone vaulted walls painted in startling hues of red, blue, ochre, and burnt orange. They had their own kitchens and servant quarters. Granted the beds looked a bit spartan. They also had gorgeous cloisters to gather, with painted murals every where and flowers and cactus plants. There were narrow brick or tiled lanes bordered by stone residences. I don’t know how true to life the restoration was but seemed pretty nice. I got some decorating ideas, including some fabulous wall color ideas. of course it will be hard in Iowa to replicate the
monastery’s view from on high of a snow capped volcano.

As my husband noted, some museums grab me more than others. Grand cathedrals and museums full of old paintings tend to bore me quickly.But give me an old house or monastery where I can wander through the rooms and see how people live and I am wide awake. I also love folk art and the kind of melodramatic Spanish art thAt filled the monasterio. There was also a very cool video in a side gallery of contemporary Andean male dancers doing some crazy moves while holding onto a pair of what looked like very sharp scissors. MUST read up on that.

At the public mercado (you knew I would find that right?) we marveled at the astonishing selection of potatoes (Peru is the home of the potato) and produce. Our stomaches are a bit iffy today so we ate lightly. Although we did get a little paper cone with five Dulces (sweets) …tiny crispy cones filled with creamy caramel. Here are some photos of our hotel and the monastery.

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Iowa destination dining: The Northside Cafe in Winterset

Outside the revamped Northside Cafe in Winterset, Iowa

Once upon a time there was an old beloved cafe in the central Iowa town of Winterset called the Northside. A charming place with high ceilings, a stamped tin ceiling, a long wooden counter with swivel seats, booths with softened vinyl, old photos, and an old-fashioned sign above the counter that flipped every few seconds to advertise another local business (“Lenny’s auto: instant financing”). The food was nothing to write home about but I took out-of-towners there to soak up the scene. (Did I mention the Northside was the setting for a scene  starring a love-struck Clint Eastwood in the film “Bridges of Madison County?”).

There was also, about 10 years ago in Des Moines a beloved cafe called Chat Noir,which served creative fare inspired by New Orleans, France  and other Euro spots in a funky old house in the historic Sherman Hill neighborhood. After a strong run, it closed and we still miss it. But now it is back…sort of. The new owners of the Northside are the former owners of Chat Noir. During a Saturday lunch at the Northside earlier this month, we recognized familiar faces ( one of the twin sisters who are the cafe’s co-owners) and several favorite dishes (the muffuletta, the crab and shrimp bisque) but many new things. And the vibe is familiar – welcoming and hip but not too. Plus a new small town coziness. It’s like a mash up of theNorthside and Chat. We loved it and we will be back. When you go try the pulled pork sandwich (not goopy with sauce but instead dry smoked pork), the bisque, sweet potato fries, cold-pressed  ice coffee, fresh apple pie. Yum.

Address: 61 East Jefferson Street, Winterset, IA 50273
Phone: (515) 462-1523

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