I bless the rains down in Africa.

I received some very important mail this weekend … my travel documents for South Africa! I hinted back in January about a big international trip I was taking and now I can confirm it. In May we’re going to Johannesburg, Cape Town and Pretoria. Really, they had me at “safari,” “winery tour” and “high tea.”

This trip will mark my second time crossing the equator, and adds another continent to my count: 4. Like most things, my father has declared that to be a competition, so we’ll just have to see who makes it to Antarctica first. My money’s on him.

I have a couple of months to study up, and I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself. I’ve already watched Invictus, and my grandmother keeps recommending various Nelson Mandela biographies. I’ll tackle those in my “spare time,” I suppose.

Oh, and I hear it looks like this. Whoa.


Culinary Bucket List: Chicory Coffee

One of the horrors of my life so far is that I haven’t been to New Orleans. Nope, I’ve never strolled the French Quarter past the wrought-iron trellises as jazz wafts through the air. And now I’m way too old and modest to road trip to Mardi Gras to drink hurricanes, flash my goods for beads and stumble around Bourbon Street. I kind of regret that I didn’t visit before Katrina, though now the city gets to show off its pluck and battle scars, which can only give it more character.

I’ve always thought New Orleans would have the same sensibility as Savannah, since they share deep historical roots, stifling humidity, a dark undercurrent of voodoo and mysticism and a general style of “elegant decay.” This is shameful to admit, but a lot of what I know about New Orleans is only pieced together from scenes in The Pelican Brief, those Zatarain’s commercials or The Real World: New Orleans. But I hear it’s a great foodie town. And that brings me to the next item on my culinary bucket list.

Today’s Eatocracy blog has a nice roundup on traditional New Orleans fare, and there are a lot of things listed that I’ve never eaten. I’ve never tasted true filé gumbo, sucked the brains out of a crawdad, enjoyed a shrimp po’ boy or a mouth-searing dish of jambalaya. I am confounded by something called étouffée, but I do enjoy saying it over and over again. Of all those foodie experiences though, my number one goal is to someday enjoy a cup of chicory coffee. Keep reading »

I come from a land Down Under.

Ah, Sydney.

I’ve just returned from a weeklong trip on the other side of the world. (Well, I actually returned last week, but the jet lag hit me so hard on Monday that it wasn’t until yesterday, Saturday, that I felt normal again).

C* and I took off for a glorious 24 hours in L.A. full of glitz, glamour, fame and Sprinkles cupcakes. Then we hopped aboard the largest plane I have ever seen (double-decker A-380) for a 15-hour jaunt over open ocean. You can get through anything with enough Xanax and Sauvignon Blanc, I tell you. Truth said, it was an easy flight – we watched movies, ate every three hours and actually slept. Bravo, Qantas!

Keep reading »