After Queenstown and the Routeburn Track, Mr. Wonderful and I flew to the north island (see, Tez, I know there are two!) and stayed on the Viaduct waterfront in Auckland. New Zealand’s biggest city has a similar feel to Seattle, only warmer. Built around the same time and fueled by the gold rush, both cities sport cute Victorian buildings to more modern glass and steel structures. It’s spread out, but the downtown is still walkable (I walked so much my feet nearly fell off). Both cities have skylines dominated by a well-recognized skinny tower. Tourists can’t bunjy off the Space Needle. The vibrant waterfront has a busy harbor with small ferry boats that service the many islands. Sailing is huge in Auckland, and I realized the sailboat-racing hero of my cruise book #2 is a Kiwi.

As usual, Mr. Wonderful had meetings all day, every day, until late at night, so I amused myself exploring the city. I enjoy touring new cities, taking notes on the urban design and special interest in historic preservation. Friday I walked from the Westin on the Viaduct all the way up Parnell Street to the Auckland Museum. The large colonial building lords over the city from the top of a hill, providing great views. It reminded me of the Philadelphia Museum of Art (of Rocky fame). I saw a Maori cultural performance, which was very similar to Polynesian performances in Tahiti. The singing was lovely. The six-member team demonstrated the poi – softball-sized puff balls on long strings that are swung about and bounced off the body – and short and long blades. They finished with the war dance that is widely recognized from the All Blacks rugby games. Afterwards I took pictures of the Maori carvings for future ceramics projects and walked through the giant park grounds of the Domain.

The Domain is 75 hectares in the hollow of an old volcano. It has formal gardens, lawn bowling, and thickly forested paths, like Lovers Walk. A lot of the names in Auckland are English – Albert and Regent streets, I stopped by the Wintergarden, two greenhouses connected by a courtyard with shallow pool, to knit and was photographed by some strange asian tourists. I’m not sure if they thought I was a local or just odd. On the return trip I passed through the Auckland University campus and Albert Park, before finally arriving on Queen Street and locating a Borders. Since I can’t resist a bookstore, I checked out the selection of romance books down under. No Nalini Singh. Mass market paperbacks for $20. AAAAA!!!!

Saturday I took the ferry to the volcano island of Rangitoto and hiked to the top. The volcano rose out of the sea 600 years ago. Trees and brush cover much of the black lava rock. It was hot, but the beautiful 360 degree views were well worth it.

Part I: Queenstown & Routeburn Track
Part II: Auckland (see more photos!)
Part III: Rotorua & Wellington

On our return to Tokyo, Mr. Wonderful was occupied preparing for and presenting at the Adobe MAX Conference, so I learned the Tokyo subway and explored the city by myself. Solo exploration is lonely, but more instructive, since I am forced to relinquish my passive role and make a decision. It is a testament to a shrinking world and the genuine friendliness of the Japanese people that I was able to get by knowing a single world of Japanese. Even that one word–thank you–slipped through my swiss cheese brain more often than not.

Ginza–the 5th Avenue of Tokyo–where giant signs assail you from every angle and fashion is hot off the runway. I was in pursuit of washi–Japan’s traditional handmade paper. Looking lost on a street corner, someone took pity on me and helped me locate my target stationary store, Haibara (est. 1806). Street names and addresses are almost non-existent here. Despite my Lonely Planet guidebook and map, lost was my middle name and there were a handful of restaurants and stores–including the Tokyo Disney tourist booth–that I never did find. Next stop was Ito-ya, housing eight floors of stationary, handmade paper, cards, pens, art supplies and a tea lounge. I confess I became inspired to start writing more snail mail!

Of course, I also visited Maruzen book store to drool over the romance novels. Harlequin had an entire rack of books in japanese with familiar authors and completely new covers. Discovering Outlander and Twilight in Japanese inspired a giant grin. I attempted to locate anything by Linda Winstead Jones to bring back for my mother-in-law, but without understanding the organization of the books I was unable to find any.

The Imperial Palace is in the center of Tokyo. Koi and swans swim in the wide moat that separates the ancient rock wall from the surrounding skyscrapers. It is a travesty that two major arterials bisect the historic grounds. Only the East garden is open to the public, but this outpost of history is a must see for visitors to this modern metropolis. My pictures were taken at dusk as it began to drizzle. Notably, the lighting could be better.

And that concludes this edition of Wanderlust: Japan. Stay tuned next time for Wanderlust: Cruising the Caribbean!

Part I: Tokyo

Part II: Minakami

Part III: see more photos on facebook

County Kerry is “as close as you’ll get to the mythical Ireland,” according to the Lonely Planet Guidebook. An’ sure it is: a beautiful land of green fields, sheep and gorse, ancient rock walls, with purple mountains hovering in the distance. One can almost imagine behind the fog lie the shimmering gates of Tir na nog. The countryside is what I imagined Ireland would look like – rocky. It is an unforgiving land

Killarney is a lovely town, bustling with colorful shops and pubs, sure to be crawling with tourists in the summer. We enjoyed our stay, but will stay further off the beaten track on our next trip to the Emerald Isle. Our B&B, while the “best pick” of Lonely Planet, blared Enya through the hallways. One of the restaurants showed Riverdance on repeat. If I worked in Killarney, surely I would go mad.

Kerry is home of Killarney National Park, the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, and the tallest mountain in the country Carrauntoohil. Our hiking guidebook is Carrauntoohil & MacGillycuddy’s Reeks: A Walking Guide to Ireland’s Highest Mountains by Jim Ryan. Our first day in Killarney we hiked part of walk #17: Caher from the Lack Road. With a hunk of good Dingle Cheddar and some crackers, we were good to go. It was steep, but we had pleasant weather and the sheep kept us company. The lambs are in abundance – just as cute as can be. Ryan had to ruin it by ordering lamb stew for dinner, but I, as a vegetarian, can coo all I want over the little fluff balls.

Thursday we hiked the Gap of Dunloe, along a tarmac road. The weather held off for the most part, but we never did find the path up the mountain. Some of the hiking trails are well marked and others are not. On an abandoned cottage I saw my name graffitied for the very first time – thrilling! The road took us over picturesque stone bridges and along blue mountain lakes. It was grand. Next time we will rent bikes in Killarney and bike through the Gap and take a boat ride along the lakes. A jaunting car (aka a horse-drawn buggy) can be hired to traverse the Gap as well.

Friday we climbed the highest mountain in Ireland via the Devil’s Ladder. The thing is appropriately named. I thought for sure if the rocks didn’t kill me, the wind would. It was cold. It was steep. It was intense. It was foggy at the top and the view was obscured. But the company was fine and I felt good having made the climb. Climb every mountain, and all that. Whoot! I even saw a green bunny. It’s Ireland, isn’t it, so why ever not? It matched the mossy grass exactly. I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t almost stepped on the poor wee thing.

The Ireland countryside is slightly rolling hills with farmland stretching for miles in either direction. A landscape of green and brown, dotted with puffs of white sheep. It is familiar; it could be any stretch of farmland in western Washington. Unlike Sweden and Germany, the small towns that crop up are, surprisingly, not dominated by towering church spires. They are a hodgepodge. A mishmash. New buildings mixed with meandering old rock walls. Stone ruins appear out of nowhere; a bit of history seamlessly integrated with modern life.

Towns line the road from Dublin to Cork; pubs entice the weary traveler. Cork is a breath of fresh air. Bright colors jump out, cheering the sunlight and the merry rolling river and the enthusiastic hordes of shoppers. Rowhomes flash pink and blue and green along narrow curving streets (see photo).

The Gift of Gab

Just north of Cork is Blarney Castle. I searched the hilltops for signs of a ruined stronghold, while my quarry hid itself away in a valley. I thought castles were supposed to guard the higher ground? Apparently not. The picturesque stone ruin sits in a lovely park of cherry blossoms and a burbling brook. When you visit take time to explore the gardens. Perhaps bring a book and a picnic lunch. Ryan took some video of the grounds, which I’ll post when we get better internet. The site is a mecca for tourists, but we were lucky to have few compatriots in our quest for the stone. The site is extremely well signed with interesting tidbits of history and cartoons.

Queen Victoria is said to have first coined the term “to talk Blarney” when Lord Blarney was able to talk for hours without agreeing to a thing. Legends abound about the origins of the Blarney Stone, but one thing is for sure: launching a writing career would not be complete without a pilgrimage to kiss this magic icon, thereby obtaining the Gift of Eloquence. To do so, the aspirant must climb to the top of the tower, up a very narrow circular staircase, then lie back over the edge of the precipice and pucker up. An attendant is there to whisk you through, preventing over much contemplation of the stone itself. I’ll put the video of my homage up at the end of the week, as well as photos.

From Blarney we continued on to Killarney in County Kerry, where we will spend the rest of the week. Killarney hosts the tallest mountains in Ireland and a host of historic sites, as well as the magical Ring of Kerry.

I have dreamed of Ireland: of walking in the footsteps of my ancestors, of listening to the uilleann pipes over a pint of cider, of walking o’er the rocky green hills with the scent of magic tinglin’ on the mornin’ wind. I walked off the plane early Saturday after many torturous hours without sleep and stuck with a bad romance novel (ugg, what could be worse? Rape is NOT an acceptable activity for a hero. Never, never. NEVER!). The customs officer made it all worthwhile when I handed her my passport – “So, KEEH-rah, how long is your stay in Ireland?” To hear my name pronounced correctly on the first try – it’s grand! I’ve dreamed of this moment for 25 long years.

The Black Pool

Ireland’s capital was built at the mouth of the River Liffey where a deep harbor made it attractive to the Vikings to build a world-class trading city out of a tiny settlement. If you are interested in learning more, Edward Rutherfurd’s book The Princes of Ireland covers the first 1000 years of Dublin’s history through the fictional lives of a few generations of Dubliners, covering the pagans, St. Patrick, the Book of Kells, Brian Boru, the Vikings, Christ Church, and King Henry II. The book is a great way to learn the history of this great city for people who don’t like reading history books, though the fictional sketches aren’t very happy. (‘Tisn’t a romance novel, ye ken?) The second book in the Ireland Saga is The Rebels of Ireland, which I haven’t read. If you want a great read about The Troubles check out Leon Uris’ Trinity. Michael Collins, staring Liam Neeson, Aidan Quinn, and Julia Roberts, and is a must-see movie about the establishment of the Irish free state in the 1920s.

In Dublin’s Fair City

The city lacks the towering office buildings that make up most international metropolises (at least in the historic downtown where we stayed). The short Georgian rowhomes, with the elegant doors that make up tourist posters, create picturesque brick streetscapes. The Temple Bar neighborhood is rife with narrow twisting streets, packed full of bar-hoppers in the evening, even on a Sunday. The large pedestrian mall of Grafton Street, where the movie Once was filmed, is an excellent example of good planning (says the former city planning student). On Saturday we wandered the streets, saw the Molly Malone statue (see photo), visited the lovely Victorian garden of St. Stephen’s Green and enjoyed a pint at The Stags Head in the Temple Bar district where the bartender regaled us with tales of the beauty of Killarney, our next stop and his hometown.

Church and Crumpets

On Sunday we escaped a sudden shower (one of many) inside the medieval Christ Church Cathedral, the oldest church in the city. Though typical of a gothic church, the colorful floor tiles made it unique. Afterwards we walked east through the hodgepodge Dublin Castle and on to Merrion Square where we had Afternoon Tea (and escaped another shower) at the Merrion Hotel. Merrion Street is the place to go if you want to take your own photographs of Georgian doors. In the evening we had planned to take the Musical Pub Crawl to learn all about traditional Irish music (my favorite), but jet lag caused me to miss the start. We wandered the green bridges over the Liffey until we found a little pub with a two man Trad band.

Treats for Next Time (and there will be a next time)

We did not see the Book of Kells at Trinity College because the Lonely Planet Guidebook warned us that it was really only the Page of Kells on display. I own a copy of the illustrations at home anyway. Next time I visit I would like to take the Easter Rising Tour and see the bullet-ridden Post Office.

My complete photos of Dublin are up on Flickr (including some video), but the internet service here in Killarney isn’t fast enough to upload photos, so you’ll have to wait to see the Ring of Kerry and Blarney Castle till I get back to the Westin Dublin on Saturday.

Monday we left for Killarney in County Kerry, driving through County Cork where I kissed the Blarney Stone, thereby securing my future as a writer (or at least a blogger).

On the road again, this time down to Texas to visit my little brother at Trinity University in San Antonio. I brought six books for the six day trip. My layover was in San Francisco. My shoulder ached as I lugged my heavy bag down the hall, a suitcase with more books dragging behind me. On the wall an advertisement for the Sony digital e-book reader caught my eye – Carry 160 books with you when you travel. Hot damn! If ever an advertisement had been written for me, that was it.

I love perusing bookstores, especially when I travel. Despite having no more room to stuff another book in my bag, I made a beeline for the airport bookstore. It was a big one – whoot! but sadly had a single Romance bookcase. Only one? What are they thinking? Of the five shelves two were erotica only, one of which was must-be-over-18-to-purchase. Excuse me? I’ve never seen that in a bookstore before. I immediately thought of the romance novel survey I took this week that asked me “How do you feel about reading romance novels in public?” I want to pose the question, “How do you feel about reading over-18 erotica in public?” I mean, where else are you reading books bought in an airport bookstore, if not in public? I read romance everywhere, despite the often embarrassing covers. But erotica? I don’t think so.

Most embarrassing reading-in-public experience: I read the Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom on a plane. I burst into tears. My embarrassment was tapered somewhat that my seatmate and the stewardess had both read the book and told me they cried too.

Have you ever felt awkward reading a book in public?

No, I haven’t fallen off the end of the earth, just have been surviving without internet access in the tourist-infested jungles of Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is the Disneyland of the tropics with Mickey the Howler Monkey instead of the Mouse. Admittedly we are here during the busiest week in the year- Christmas to New Years when American kids have winter break and families go on vacation. Playa Grande was quiet, a small collection of hotels set back from the beach to protect the turtles. We took long walks on the beach and watched tropical sunsets. It we go again, for we missed the night walk to watch the sea turtles lay their eggs, we would try to stay in either Hotel de las Tortugas or the Rip Jack Inn (they had the best food). Definately don’t miss the Tres Leches at the Rip Jack. Nearby Tamarindo was a madhouse with Burger King and Subway crammed between sovenier shops and tour operators. (Photo left: Playa Grande.)

I expected La Fortuna to be different; the Loney Planet guidebook wrote that it was a quaint village with local culture and flavor despite the overabundance of businesses catering to tourists. Unfortunately we saw nothing but tourist traps lining a lovely city park. Our hotel made up for the brasyness of the town. After our no frills hotel in Playa Grande my only hope was that our new hotel would have hot water for a shower. To my great delight Hotel Arenal Nayara turned out to be a lush garden of Eden with exotic cabins, romantic outdoor showers among pink tropical plants and a private jacuzzi overlooking Vulcan Arenal. It was a beautiful setting. We felt spoiled among the lushous furnatings and colorful pathways. Too bad we had to eat – the food was terrible. (Photo right: view of our jacuzzi with Arenal and gardens.)

The weather gods favored us at the beach, but not so at La Fortuna. Arenal declined to peak her head from behind the clouds, though at least the first day she did not try to drown us. The last two days we were not so lucky. It rained; It poured; It was a deluge, a torrent, a flood. It came down in buckets, thundering on our cottage roof and overflowing the gutters. The path was a stream; the stream was a river; the river was an ocean. Thick droplets of warm water cascaded over my head, collecting in my boots, plastering my clothes to my body. I certainly got the warm shower I had wished for!

We braved a cloudy sky on Friday for a tour-company led “Extreme Hike” up Arenal’s dormant elder brother Cerro Chato to see the lake inside the crater. I doubted the veracity of a tourist hike being very difficult; I was wrong. It was extreme: extremely steep, extremely muddy, and extremely exhausting. Our guide flew up the steep slope like a born mountain goat, leaving me scrambling in the mud. Switchbacks are apparently for sissies; it was straight up. It started pouring as we hit the steep part of the mountain and by halfway up we were soaked through. Rain in my eyelashes, dripping off my nose; mud inching higher and higher up my body ’till I could almost taste it. It brought to mind the scene in “Romancing the Stone” where Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas bushwack through the jungle during a tropical rainstorm and fall down a chute of mud, Douglas landing in Turner’s lap to her discust and his amusement. The crater of the volcano might be beautiful; the rain-fed lake enclosed by steep lush jungle slopes might be a sight not to be missed; but I couldn’t tell you, for I saw nothing but fog, rain, and mud. The scramble left my arms sore and my legs quaking, but I made it. We were rewarded with La Fortuna waterfall and a dip in its cold blue waters.

Monteverde, far up into the mountains and reachable only by long bumpy, unpaved roads, more than makes up for the tourist mecca of the previous two stops. It is lovely here. We are surrounded by private reserves protecting the abundant wildlife. If we should come again we will spend much more time here. Yesterday, our 4-year anniversary, we took a private horse ride down through the valley with vistas of lush mountains and coffee groves surrounding us. Leaving our horses we hiked up to a tall waterfall. In the evening we took a night trek with a naturalist through the Monteverde Reserve, spotting a porcupine, a tarantula (pictured left), bats, and many bugs.

Today we drive a bumpy five hours to San Jose and tomorrow fly back to the States. It has been a lovely second honeymoon. If I could do it again though I would bring more books. Five just wasn’t enough! More photos from our trip can be found on our flickr page (see link at right).
Happy New Year and may you have a fabulous 2008!!!

With eager anticipation I have been researching places to go and things to do during my upcoming pilgrimage to the holy land of the Regency Romance genre.

The Travel Book Search

Frustratingly, there seem to be London guidebooks for most other literary genres, but not romance. There are numerous books on London through the eyes of Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Oscar Wild, Sherlock Holmes, and Charles Dickens, and one genre travel guide to the Mystery Reader’s Walking Guide: London. There are half a dozen books on literary guides to London written during the late 19th and early 20th centuries – much good would they do guiding a reader through the much-changed 21st. At least a Dickens’ guide would help me identify locations in Lisa Kleypas’ Victorian-era novels, but where is London for Georgette Heyer Lovers? Stephanie Laurens’ London: Mayfair and Beyond? The Traveler’s Companion to the London of Julia Quinn? The closest I have come are travel guides to Jane Austin’s England and Bath, but not, specifically, London.

Which leads us back to writing our own.

Walking Tours of Regency-Related London

London Walks is a company that has approximately ten walking tours a day for only 6 pounds each that all look fabulous and have been enthusiastically recommended to me. A few of them relate to our topic:

- Old Mayfair – The Best Address in London!: During the 19th century, anyone who was anyone had a town home in Mayfair for the Season, including all our monied and titled heroes and heroines.

- The London Walk: Westminster and the West End: “Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the Changing of the Guard, our loveliest Royal Park, 500-year-old St. James’s Palace, clubland, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, Admiralty Arch…” All the sights our characters witnessed.

- The Literary London Pub Walk: “Shades of Dickens and Thackeray; Oscar Wilde and G. B. Shaw; Virginia Woolf and the Bloomsbury Circle (who lived in Squares and loved in triangles); George Orwell, W. B. Yeats and T. S. Eliot – how they were flesh and blood men and women who lived, loved, laughed, caroused, quarrelled and spun ‘words so nimble, so full of subtle flame…’.”

I will be there over October 31st, most likely sampling the Apparitions, Alleyways & Ale: the Halloween Ghostwalk Tour!!!

Map Me Baby

A recent find: an online map of London from 1827.

After a month-long obsession with Regency Romance novels I have finally done it – I’ve bought tickets for a pilgrimage to the golden city. Caught up in a giddy wave of excitement, I immediately searched the internet for places to visit. I want to stroll in the footsteps of my heroines, to soak in the magic of the pleasure gardens, to drink a brandy in the dark paneled rooms where my heroes have sat, to people-watch in Hyde Park, and to dance the night away under the coal-obscured starlight of the London sky. Okay, not exactly, but you get my drift. What still exists in London that was there during the Regency period? White’s? Brooks’? Boodle’s? Almack’s? Mayfair mansions? The Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens? Covent Gardens? Drury Lane? Hyde Park? Surely I’m not the first starry-eyed bookworm to want to see the Regency haunts in real life? Google, for once, has failed me – where is The Regency Romance-Lover’s Guide to Visiting London? Why hasn’t Avon Romance, the giant of Regency publishing, put out such a needed travelog? There are DaVinci Code tours of Paris, The Sound of Music tours in Austria, and Brothers Grimm tours in Germany, so where is the Regency Romance Novel tour of London? Unless, gentle reader, you can point me in the right direction, I shall have to write the book myself. It would be my honor to create such a tome to guide fellow Romance pilgrims.

Here are a few resources that I intend to look into to guide my trip research:

“A Visit to Regency London” by Victoria Hinshaw

The most promising find – a single webpage with a list and photographs of what one can see today from Regency London from a Regency romance novelist.

“Jane Austin in London” by The Jane Austin Society of Australia

Pages on Jane in London, especially the pages on pleasure gardens and
Gentlemen’s Clubs. The Society took a trip to London and visited gardens and several Gentlemen’s Clubs including Whites and Brooks, but hasn’t seen fit to put the maps, itinerary, and the like on the website. Great information on the cultural importance of the pleasure gardens, theater, art, and clubs.

The A to Z of Regency London by Richard Horwood.

Maps, maps, and more maps! Horwood’s plan of the Cities of London and Westminster (3rd Edition 1813) in book form on a scale of 14 inches per mile, with key and index. Extends Hyde Park-East India Docks; Pentonville-Walworth. Hardback, 116pp. Publication no 131 (1985). I can compare this to modern day maps to see how the city has changed.

London by Edward Rutherford

I read his Princes of Ireland about Dublin and was impressed with Rutherford’s storytelling technique. He weaves the history of a city through the lives of subsequent generations of common people.

London’s Pleasures from Restoration to Regency: Two Centuries of Elegance and Indulgence by David Kerr Cameron

This book sounds like a fabulous research book for rakish and genteel activities alike: from bear-bating to pleasure gardens to theaters to coffee houses. Unfortunately, the Seattle Public Library doesn’t seem to have it. I may have found a use for my Borders gift card, which I have been saving it for a rainy day!

An Elegant Madness: High Society in Regency England by Venetia Murray

Publishers Weekly mentions that “perhaps even fans of Regency romances” will like this book about the prolifigate vice and paradoxical idealized virtue of the Regency period. The author covers the period of history from 1790 to 1830.

The Traditional Shops & Restaurants of London: A Guide to Century-Old Establishments and New Classics by Eugenia Bell

Profiles the historic shops of London, some of which started in the early 1700s and are still around. Now I just have to go back through my novel and dig up the names of the shops and restaurants my heroes and heroines frequent!

Tea in the City: London by Jane Pettigrew

Like I could visit England without having a spot o’ tea. Crumpets anyone?

The Amateur Historian’s Guide to Medieval and Tudor London by Sarah Valente Kettler and Carole Trimble

This is the exact travel book I am looking for…except for the wrong time period. I want The Amateur Historian’s Guide to Regency London. My kingdom, My kingdom, My kingdom for a horse!

The weather has been horrid. Rain, rain, go away, ciaralira wants to play… We stayed Monday and Tuesday night in Vaxjo at an odd little hotel that locked the door at 6. Tuesday was spent in the Emigrant Museum, which was short on exhibits but made up for it with an impressive research library. My mother searched the records for her ancestors, while I read A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle. It was much, much shorter than I remember it, but just as good. I read it in about an hour, and was faced with the prospect of five more days, including another loooong plane ride, with only one more book. Ack!

The drive from Vaxjo, on the eastern side of Sweden, south to Karls-something-or-other (left), along the coast west to Lund, was lovely. We had lunch in the aforementioned city of Karl, famous for its 17th century naval architecture, and while its coastal views were nice, it didn’t stand out in my mind like Stockholm and Lund did. Lund was a beautiful university town full of bikes and cobblestone streets and old architecture, pretty little pedestrian thoroughfares and cafes and fashionable shops. We stayed in another funny little hotel with a tiny room and a bathroom in the hallway, that served breakfast in bed.

At dinner my mother struck up a conversation with the couple at the table next to us. They were architects and were able to tell us about the repressive planning regulations that keep Sweden so rural and picturesque. Apparently they plan for the good of the whole at the expense of the individual, but it looks a hell-of-a-lot nicer than American sprawl. I, as usual, contributed little to the conversation. My mummy told me never to talk to strangers. Ha!