“Um … you have something on your face.”

-

I have some shocking news for you.

SHOCKING.

Are you sitting down? Have you cleared all breakable objects from your immediate proximity? (Because you are going to wail and fling about when you hear what I have to say. Seriously). Also, if you have a beverage, I sincerely suggest that you swallow your current sip before reading my news, unless you wish to do a spit-take all over your monitor.

Okay, all good? Here goes:

I have terrible skin.

(I’m just going to sit back and let that news sink in.

… Okay, so I’ve just been alerted to the fact that this revelation isn’t shocking at all. Apparently, when you are comprised of 90% baked goods (10% other) your skin isn’t supposed to look good. Which means that the Pillsbury doughboy has led me astray. AGAIN. Giggling little clear-skinned bastard. Anywhoodle …)

The point is, my skin is not my best feature (nor is my sunny outlook or my impeccable manners. I’m not going to think about this any more, lest I end up crying on the couch eating – wait for it – BAKED GOODS. I see a pattern forming).

I deal with this problem the way any rational woman would: I complain and whine and occasionally – GOD FORGIVE ME – even pick. I know, I know. Oh, and I spend an obscene amount of time and money on various potions, lotions, creams, peels, treatments, masks, astringents, and gels that all claim to make my skin as smooth and unblemished as Scarlett Johansson’s.*

*I have nothing against Ms. Johansson, per se, but I recently saw The Avengers on a high-def TV – you know, the ones that show every single pore and freckle? – and she was still GORGEOUS. Her skin is like porcelain. Girlfriend deserves her fame, because she is a statistical anomaly.

When I travel, my skin decides to react in a multitude of ways:

• It spontaneously breaks out into a plethora of red, painful zits
• I lied. That’s pretty much it.

At home, I’m able to bombard treat these breakouts with substances that bleach the color of out of fabric – a characteristic which should probably alarm me more than it does. But since TSA regulations on liquids and creams mean that you can only bring an eye-dropper of fluid with you (give or take), I’ve found that I have to pick and choose which of my liquid acne-fighting arsenal I can pack.

That’s why I always have aspirin on me.

- 

I’ve found that those little pills are amazing on acne. Aspirin is an anti-inflammatory, so it helps treat the redness and swelling that stubbornly takes up residence in my face.

If you want to try it at home, just grab an aspirin tablet, lick it, and stick it on your face.

Kidding. The actual process is a little more involved, so I created a step-by-step guide. If it doesn’t clear up your skin, it will at least convince the hotel cleaning staff that you might be a drug addict. So it’s basically a win-win.

—————

Step 1: Assess your stupid, breaking-out, miserable, and irritated face.

Try to figure out what may have caused this current rash of acne (some culprits: stress; unhealthy eating; hormones; an ancient curse.) This exercise won’t do anything but annoy you, but as you inspect your pores, you might want to consider all the people out there who would love to have your skin. There are folks who are burned and scarred, disfigured or lopsided. To them, your mug probably looks like Scarlett Johansson’s.

-

My point? Be grateful for what you have. And remember that when it comes down to it, looks don’t really matter much, anyway.

—————

Step 2: Grab a few aspirin (four or five should suffice) and place them on a clean, smooth surface.

I used the counter of the hotel bathroom, after giving it a good wipe down.

It really doesn’t matter what kind of aspirin you use, but the ones without coating are preferable.

-

-

————–

Step 3: Mash the aspirin into a fine dust.

I used Rand’s shaving cream canister like a rolling pin. At this point, you might want to lock the door, because it would look really bad if someone barged in during the middle of this.

-

Reaaaaaaaaally bad.

-

Like, “this might get you deported” bad.

“Baby, what the HELL are you doing?” – Rand

-

—————

Step 4: Grab a bit of lotion …

It just occurred to me that anyone who follows my Flickr stream would be horrified right now. Horrified.

-

Add the powdered aspirin, and make a paste.

-

Indeed, that might be the understatement of the year. If my beloved is reading this, he’s probably done a spit take all over his computer while sputtering, “YOU THINK?”

My poor, maligned love. He puts up with a lot. From me. And during the holidays, from his in-laws, too. Which I argue is his fault.

I mean, I was born into them. I had no choice. He walked right into this situation, mostly sober. THE FOOL.

Don’t get me wrong: my family can be delightful, and they seem to really like Rand. But they are all, each and every one of them, certifiably insane. Absolutely mental.

There are a few exceptions – dear women who, for reasons I can’t quite articulate, decide to throw a crazy wrench into the machinery of their normal lives, and married into my family.

Other than this glaring lack of judgement, they seem rather sane. It’s only a matter of time, though, before they become as nuts as the rest. As any medical professional will tell you, being bonkers is highly contagious.

In the meantime, Rand has them with whom to commiserate, to look at with wide eyes and shake his head, or shrug and say, “Eh. The in-laws … am I right?”

This post is for them – it’s advice for people who are about to visit an Italian household (whether it be in Italy, or in the U.S.). Rand and those poor souls who married into my family learned most of this stuff already, the hard way.

It might be helpful to the rest of you, too. Especially if you have managed to fall in love with some hirsute Italian boy or girl, and are planning on spending time with their family this holiday season. (I’m not sure whether to congratulate you on your luck, or pray for your soul. I might do a bit of both.)

And with that, here are my 24 tips for visiting an Italian household during the holidays … or any time, really.

1. If you are staying in someone’s home, note that bathrooms will likely not contain trash cans, nor will any of the bedrooms. In fact, it’s incredibly hard to find any sort of garbage receptacle anywhere, and you will likely need to make your own. After collecting refuse for several days, and then presenting it to your hostess, she will be mortified that you have been hoarding trash, and will likely clutch her heart and may possibly faint. Be prepared for this.
   - 
2. If you say you are not hungry, know that the comment will be perceived in any of these ways:
   -
   “You are a terrible cook.”
   -
   “You have failed as a mother/grandmother/aunt/provider.”
   -
   “I don’t love you.”
   -
   (This goes ditto for not consuming seconds.)
   - - 
3. Note that saying that you are hungry can be equally disastrous. This is tantamount to claiming that you are near death from starvation, and may expire at any moment. Large quantities of food will be presented to you, and must be eaten in a frenzy. Instead, even if you are famished, state that you “could have a little snack.” Understand that said snack will be a banquet.
   

   Your starter will be pasta. Your main will also be pasta. And for dessert? Pasta.

   -

4. Though appearances might suggest otherwise, the house was not decorated by an aspiring club promoter circa 1986 (probably). Despite being abreast of most fashion trends, the majority of Italians seem about twenty years behind when it comes to interior design. A framed poster of the Colosseum? Sure. A few dozen Patrick Nagel prints? YES.
   -
5. The woman wearing knee-high boots and a leopard print top is someone’s grandmother. Don’t think about this too much.
   -
6. “What do you mean you aren’t Catholic? … Methodist? What the hell is that?”
   -
7. Espresso will be offered to you in the morning. Also at 10am, noon, 3pm, 5pm, and 8pm. You will be expected to partake in at least half of these opportunities.
   -
8. Should you get the shakes after consuming half a gallon of coffee, expect several people to gently squeeze your shoulder and tell you to calm down. They will blame your nerves on “city life”, “working too much,” or simply “being American.” But obviously not the coffee.
   - 
9. “You paid how much for that bottle of wine? You know Carlo Rossi is two gallons for $7 and it’s just as good.”
   - 
10. The greatest contributions to society have been made by Italians. Mostly by Galileo, Da Vinci, and DeNiro.
    

    Also, all art and history and culture and language and good things come from Italy and nowhere else.

    -

11. You will inevitably share a meal with someone who is dressed in only a shirt and bikini briefs. 90% of the time, said individual will be a male. Roughly 50% of the time, he will be over the age of 50. DO NOT BREAK THE HORIZONTAL PLANE.
    -
    
12. At some point, you will see a 100-pound, middle-aged woman demolish a plate of pasta roughly the size of a pile of laundry, along with a loaf of bread and maybe some salad. She will then skip dessert because “that stuff makes you fat.” Resist the urge to punch her, as she is probably my mother. (And all her goddamn genes are recessive.)
    -
13. If you are a vegetarian, you will be offered prosciutto as an alternative to meat. If you are gluten-free … please get over that, or leave the house immediately.
    – 
14. Andy Garcia is Italian, as is evidenced by his role in The Godfather, Part III. It is best if you do not argue this point, despite glaring evidence to the contrary.
    - 
15. Jon Stewart is Italian, too.
    -
16. Obviously Colbert is as well. (Your failure to know this stuff is just evidence of the media’s rampant anti-Italianism.)
    -
17. Unless you have been specifically instructed by the host to sit at the head of the table, do not even think of doing so. Ditto for the foot of the table.
    -
18. High decibel yelling and screaming, standing up and waving limbs, hysterical crying and slamming of fists on the table are all part of standard conversation and should not be misconstrued as signs of actual conflict.
    - 
19. The same can be said of the brandishing of weapons and/or rosary beads.
    -
20. If you are dating a woman in the family, expect to sleep on the couch, or in a twin bed in her little brother’s room, or possibly outside.
    -
    If you are dating a man in the family, you can totally sleep in his bedroom, but note that the hushed conversations, disapproving looks, and head-shaking are totally about you.
    -
    (Note: I’m presuming heterosexual relationships here. I don’t know how Italian chauvinism translates to gay and lesbian culture, but I suspect it would be a fascinating study.)
    -
21. If you give someone a gift, you will find that gratitude is often expressed through guilt and tears. For some reason, simply saying “thank you” and being happy isn’t appropriate. But serious grief and distress over the bracelet you bought them totally is.
    -
22. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to rise from, or remove the dishes from, the dinner table within the two hours immediately following a meal. Your unwillingness to sit and talk to your hosts for 120 minutes is a clear sign that you hate them.
    -
23. At any given time, someone will be running around in a state of hysterical panic. It’s cool. Just let them do their thing.
    - 
24. “What are you wearing? You’re going to catch cold in that.”
    -

Man, I should have written this for my husband years ago. Eh, better late than never.

Happy Chrismukkah, baby.

—————-

Note: I know that stereotyping is lame. I realize that not all Italian families are the same. Hell, not even all crazy families are the same. I’m just sharing what I’ve learned from my family (a family that happens to be Italian. And crazy.) So if you are tempted to write me some hate mail, may I kindly suggest you take your anger and direct it back to Instagram, where it belongs? Apparently they are stealing your IP and setting fire to puppies, or something.

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Sometimes, I suck.

I mean, big time. Several of you are reading those lines and thinking, “Oh, yes, I know. I was just about to leave a comment on your blog expressing that EXACT same sentiment.”

Others of you are thinking, “Well, sure, you suck, but who among us does not?” And for your gracious understanding, I thank you.

But believe me when I say, I suck slightly more than most people (I do recycle though. So I have that going for me.)

How do I maintain my title as Asshole of the Week for 755 weeks running? Because I prioritize things terribly. I am always on the road, and I am constantly missing important events in the lives of those closest to me. Weddings. Birthdays. Baby showers. 7,000 mile oil changes.

You name it, I’ve missed it.

And thus far, I’ve missed the first four months of my nephew’s life. I wanted to be there when he was born, but that coincided rather nicely with my brain surgery, so that didn’t quite happen. I was supposed to visit last month, before Halloween, but a miserable cold knocked me on my ass.

I made a few haphazard attempts to reschedule my flight, but they didn’t pan out. One week I was in Milwaukee. Another week I was in Boston. Then New Hampshire. I figured I’d just see my nephew on Thanksgiving Day.

But as the weeks passed, my brother’s missives have changed in tone from begrudgingly acknowledging my visit (“I guess you can come stay with us.”) to bemoaning my absence. (“Come soon. We are drowning. Also, bring food.”)

And I realized that I had literally gone to Europe and back, and then across the country TWICE, before even visiting my little nephew.

Like any good Catholic, I have been overcome with guilt over this. And like any good Catholic, I am going to use food to get myself out of trouble. I will be meeting my nephew this Wednesday. But last week, I sent my brother a box of goodies.

-

I filled it with stuff I figured he and my sister-in-law would like. Fancy little flavored nuts (heh). Expensive salami. A pack of Minstrels which I had to gently coax away from my husband.

For the uninitiated, Minstrels are the British equivalent of M&Ms, but worlds better than their U.S. counterparts. I am not saying that to be pedantic or urbane (I’ve given up on that YEARS ago). They are just BETTER. I would cut someone for a Minstrel. I have never cut anyone for an M&M.

Unless we’re talking mint M&Ms, which are an entirely different matter. They are awesome. I also included a bag of those.

And I grabbed some chocolate sprinkles that literally had our last name printed on the box. Plus a couple of extra “j”s. But hjey – there’s nothjing wrong with superfljuous ljetters, rjight?

-

And then I found these, which are hilarious for obvious reasons.

-

I also included a note. Here is the post-script:

And then I texted my brother, to see if my gift basket got me out of trouble. To see if things were back to normal.

-

Yup.

-

Some of the replies to last Thursday’s post (via the comments, Twitter, and Facebook) hit me pretty hard. I have figured that several years of blogging would have thickened my skin, so my reaction surprised me (also surprising: when I got teary over an Olympics-themed Visa commercial. These damn steroids have turned me into a moody softy). I curled up into a ball and when Rand asked me what was wrong, all I could mutter was, “People on the internet are upset with me.”

And he had a good laugh, because when the sum total of your problems can be expressed thusly, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR LIFE.

But in the midst of the occasionally-heated discussion, an important point came up: this sort of reservation-mishap happens a lot (a big thanks to reader kokopuff for making me aware of this). Sometimes it’s an intentional scam. Sometimes it’s just an honest clerical mistake (I want to give our hotel the benefit of the doubt). Either way, you need to protect yourself.

The scenario goes something like this:

You make a reservation at a hotel. You call to cancel it. The hotel fails to give you a cancellation confirmation number (and/or you fail to ask for it), and when they later call you and claim that you are a no-show, you have no proof that the reservation was cancelled. And there is virtually nothing you can do about it.

Heck, not even Christopher Elliott, consumer advocate extraordinaire, could help when someone wrote in with the same problem. Unless you have a cancellation confirmation number, you can’t dispute the credit card charges. It’s apparently a general rule that the only proof you have is that number.

It looks like this sort of thing happens often when booking through certain sites. So you have to protect yourself.

Bottom line: no matter what happens, if the hotel cancels on you, or you cancel on them, get a number confirming that the cancellation took place. It’s the only proof that you have. Without it, Rand and I couldn’t have contested the charges, even if we wanted to (I was incorrect when I presumed otherwise). We’re simply lucky we didn’t get dinged for the entire, staggering amount.

And I realize a lot of folks have taken umbrage over the fact that I made my husband out to be a good person for not contesting the charges – as though his morality was somehow tied to financial privilege. That is not something I ever intended to imply. I simply wanted to communicate how calm he was through the ordeal, and how much I respected him for it. How he doesn’t hold grudges. How he never loses his cool, even when there is plenty to lose his cool over.

And how he’s pretty much the bestest husband in the whole wide world. Something which, to me, is pretty uncontestable.

This is how it begins.

-

I have a bladder the size of a chipmunk’s.

No, no – stop praising me on how amazing this is. How it’s so ladylike and really quite Hollywood to have a bladder so svelte and small. That Angelina’s or Gwyneth’s is probably barely bigger than my own.

Because despite how glamorous it sounds, let me tell you: having an itsy-bitsy bladder is NOT as amazing as movies and TV would have you believe. It means that much of my and Rand’s travels are interrupted with side-quests to find toilets. That before we go anywhere – a flight, a drive, a short walk, or even if we are simply moving from the dining room to the living room – I need to run to the bathroom.

“Hold on a sec, babe, I have to pee,” is a phrase uttered in our house even more often than “Dear god woman what is wrong with you?” (-Rand) and “I’m pretty sure that idea will get you arrested.” (-also Rand)

As such, I take note of places that offer wonderful restrooms. High-end department stores are usual great, as are giant fancy hotel chains (Hilton, Hyatt, etc.) But there are perilously few such places in downtown Munich. The square is full of biergartens and open-air cares, all free of toilets. It’s a recipe for a disaster if one has a wee bladder.

Fear not, though: I found a great place to pee in Munich.

It’s even in an actual bathroom. And it is lovely and clean. I didn’t take any actual photos of it or its patrons (See the “arrested” quote from Rand, above), but I can tell you precisely where it is.

If you are looking at the Rathaus – the giant town hall in the center of Munich that houses the glockenspiel – you will see an information office somewhere near the center of it.

-

Don’t go in.

Instead, you will see a small entryway just to to the left of it. Walk through there.

-

The entryway will lead to a small interior courtyard.

-

On the right, under a dark overhang, you will find the best public bathroom in downtown Munich.

This is where the gods would pee, if they needed to pee. But they don't. Because they're gods.

-

Be warned: it will cost you. Half a Euro, to be exact (bring change – you can’t get through the turnstile without it).  But the extravagance is worth it, it really is. Inside, you will find a brilliant white bathroom, smelling strongly of disinfectant and faintly of flowers, with smooth tiles, and stalls well-stocked with toilet paper.

Do your business, feeling somewhat like royalty (for surely this is how they must urinate).

Tip the dutiful attendant, if you have any change left. And then head off to enjoy the rest of Munich, for at least a good twenty minutes (or whenever it is that you will need to pee again).

Or just wait until Oktoberfest and pee wherever the heck you want.

Soon, I will have been blogging for three years.

THREE YEARS. Yeah. Having been out school for well-over a decade, and unemployed for a good shot of time, too, I’ve found that only my blog’s arbitrary birthday that provides me with any opportunity for reflection on the events of the last few years.

In some respects, I’m amazed at how staggeringly little I’ve grown as a traveler: I still roam cities with nary a clue as to what I’m doing, I’m still motivated largely by my quest to stuff as many baked goods into my mouth as possible, I still weep a little when forced to read a map. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t learn anything. I have picked up a few tips and tricks that I’ve gleaned from my many copious mistakes. Here are the best of of them – my my top travel tips and lessons learned from the last few years.

1. Always pack a hat. In the winter, a knit hat will keep you warm and take up little room. In the summer, a brimmed hat will keep the sun off your face. In either case, it will save you when your straightening iron doesn’t work in the trapezoidal electrical socket you found in your hotel room.
   

   Warning: sometimes the brim of your hat will get in the way of snuggling.

   -

2. Packing for a trip is infinitely easier when you’ve just done laundry.
   -
3. Bring a travel first aid kit with the following: ibuprofen (or other pain killer), decongestant, NyQuil, bandages, hydrocortizone cream. You will not believe how often it will come in handy.
   -
4. Going somewhere with clean drinking water? Pack a reusable water bottle that clips on to your bag. Bonus points if it’s collapsible. In an age where the bottled stuff costs $7, you’ll save a ton, too.
   -
5. You will never wear that second dressy outfit, so stop packing it. Most trips, you won’t even wear the first dressy outfit (but you should still pack that one).
   -
6. Bags with wheels are amazing. That backpack might seem more agile, but have you ever seen someone trek across an airport with one of those on their back? Nimble does not come to mind. Sciatica, yes. But not nimble.
   -
7. Don’t forget your camera charger. You will go through that battery in a second, esp. when your friends insist on flipping through all of the photos that you just took in order to relive something that happened 5 minutes ago.
   -
8. Don’t pack clothes that require ironing. Hell, don’t buy clothes that require ironing.
   -
9. If you are staying with someone, get them a present. Either bring it from home, or take them out during the trip, or send them something afterwards. Do it not only because you will likely be invited back, but because your mom will be so proud.
   -
10. Never pack something that you haven’t worn before. Otherwise you’ll find your new shoes too uncomfortable, your new jacket too flimsy, your new underwear too wedgie-prone.
    -
11. Buy that delightfully grotesque souvenir, even if you don’t know who to give it to. Odds are, you will think of someone for whom it would be perfect. Worst-case scenario, you’ll keep it for yourself. Which is a really great worst-case scenario.
    

    I really should have bought one of those ridiculous hats. Because you can never have enough.

    -

12. If you hate wearing something at home, you will hate wearing it even more on a trip.
    -
13. Pack those god-awful tennis shoes you only wear “jogging” (a.k.a., “to the store to buy ice cream”) At some point during your trip, you won’t care what you look like. You will only care about being comfortable. For me, that point is “Day 2.”
    -
14. Do not go into a McDonald’s. I don’t care if you are scared and starving – McNuggets are NEVER a viable option. If you need fast food, at least hit up a regional chain.
    

    Or consider picking a restaurant based on its name alone.

    -

15. Always ask museum staff for tips. They’ll tell you what the best exhibits are, and what you can skip.
    

    Plus, they probably get bored looking at naked bodies all day and are DYING for a little human interaction.

    -

16. If you are at an aquarium or a planetarium, feel free to skip the IMAX movie. They cost a bundle, and are the same EVERYWHERE.
    -
17. Tip your hotel housekeeping staff. (A good rule is to leave them about $2 U.S./day.) While you can leave it every day on the pillow, most staff is instructed not to move money or personal items, so they might not pick it up. If this is the case, just leave it in a prominent spot when you check out.
    -
18. Never carry your wallet in your back pocket, and never carry your purse on just your shoulder.
    -
19. Take notes. As much as you believe the contrary, once you get home you will not remember your tour guide’s name, or the artist whose worked you loved so much, or even the city where you stayed. Write it down.
    -
20. If you have an inkling that you should be taking photos of something, take them.
    - 
21. If you have an inkling that you should not be taking photos of something, don’t take them.
    - 
22. The second you think of packing something, PACK IT. If you wait, you will forget. And then you’ll end up using a plastic bag as a shower cap. Subsequent attempts to seduce your husband will be impossible after he’s seen you with a Rite-Aid sack on your head.
    - 
23. If you don’t speak the local language of the place you are heading, then at least learn the following phrases: Please. Thank you. I’m sorry. Do you have those shoes in a size 37?
    -
24. Wherever you  are, wherever you are going, bring snacks.
    - 
25. Dry shampoo is a godsend for those days when you don’t have time to wash your hair, but still want to interact with other humans.
    -
26. You will inevitably forget something, either at home or while on your trip. Accept this reality, and pray it is not your passport or your spouse.
    - 
27. Call your credit card company before you leave and put a travel alert on your card. While you’re at it, jot down their international customer service number.
    -
28. Consider contacting the embassy and letting them know the dates of your trip. Or at the very least, have their contact info on hand.
    -
29. Make photocopies of your passport and leave one with friends and another tucked into your bag. Or, better yet, scan your passport and email a copy to yourself.
    -
30. Pack more underwear than you could ever conceivably go through. They don’t take up much room, and after a few days on the road, you will feel FRIGGING DECADENT when you put on a fresh pair in the morning and again in the afternoon.
    -
31. Stuffing socks into your shoes can help you save space and ensure your loafers retain their shape.
    -
32. No one will judge you for watching a dumb movie while on a plane. That’s what you’re supposed to do on planes.
    -
33. When packing, try to match all of the pants/bottoms you are taking with all of the tops. This will prevent you from looking like a total goober by the end of your trip.
    

    Though sometimes you will look like a goober anyway, because you really can't dress yourself.

    -

34. Dryer sheets remove static from your hair and clothing and make your suitcase smell awesome while taking up virtually no room.
    -
35. Do not, under ANY circumstances, use an airplane lavatory while not wearing shoes. That is not okay. I don’t care how swollen your feet are. Also, consider rolling up the hems of your pants while you are in there, so they don’t brush the floor.
    -
36. Toilet paper is not a given in many parts of the world. Which is why those little packs of tissues they sell at drugstores are a godsend.
    -
37. It is far easier to get drunk and make an ass of yourself at 30,000 feet than when you are on the ground.
    

    Of course, that doesn't mean it's difficult to get drunk on the ground. Just MORE difficult than on a plane.

    -

38. Border control agents do not get sarcasm.
    - 
39. If you can’t afford to lose it (either financially or emotionally), don’t pack it.
    - 
40. When in Bulgaria, never get into a cab that doesn’t have a meter.
    - 
41. If you’ve selected the window seat, you’d better have a big bladder.
    -
42. If you are starting a brand-new book on your flight, bring at least one other form of entertainment with you, because that brand-new book might suck.
    - 
43. Suffer from motion sickness? Ask for a drink that is half ginger ale and half club soda. It will help alleviate nausea without putting you into diabetic shock.
    -
44. Never check any of the following: your toothbrush, your prescription medications, your deodorant, your pjs.
    -
45. Wear sunscreen anytime you will be outside, regardless of the temperature or weather.
    -
46. Regardless of size, never bring more than two bags with you- any more than that is unwieldy and difficult to keep track of.
    

    This poor gal was more pack mule than human. But she did have the legs of a 25-year-old, so there's that.

    -

47. Rolling non-wrinkable items before shoving them into your suitcase really does save space.
    -
48. A passport protector is the most useless item anyone can buy, ever.
    -
49. If you’ve forgotten something, check with the hotel before running to a drugstore. Most housekeeping departments carry toothbrushes, combs, sewing kits, shower caps, and disposable razors that they will give you free of charge.
    

    Bonus! If you get a teeny tiny tube of toothpaste, you can pretend you are a giant.

    -

50. Budget hotels almost always offer free wi-fi. Luxury hotels will charge you for it. This is almost always the case.
    -
51. Sleeping in while traveling is only acceptable if there is absolutely NOTHING better to do. In other words, it’s never acceptable.
    - 
52. Never trust a theater review from a London critic.
    - 
53. Don’t take foreign guests to an Americanized version of their cuisine. I know I shouldn’t generalize, but NO ITALIAN HAS EVER WANTED TO GO TO THE OLIVE GARDEN.
    -
54. If a restaurants posts its menu in more than three languages, the food is probably going to suck.
    - 
55. And, most importantly: never, EVER leave any valuables in your vehicle. I don’t care if it’s safely hidden in the trunk. I don’t care if you’re parked in the safest part of town. Don’t do it. It’s not worth the risk.

Phew. Okay – that’s the entirety of my travel knowledge. Seriously, that’s it. It will be another year before I have anything even remotely useful to share. But what about you? Surely you must have some useful nugget of travel wisdom you’ve been dying to share. If so, leave your sage advice in the comments for all to see.

Spotted in Manhattan.

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I don’t profess to know very much about anything, desserts and the career of Jeff Goldblum excluded (what? I have my passions). Other than being an authority on these two very important topics, I consider myself a rather middling resource. And yet, time and again, I get emails in my inbox from new bloggers who want me to share my “wisdom” with them.

I, personally, find this equal parts hilarious and misguided. You might as well ask me for driving directions or financial advice (other topics of which I am uniquely unqualified to discuss). When it comes to blogging, I honestly and truly don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still figuring things out for myself. I still make tons of mistakes.

But I have kept at it for two and half long years and for six-hundred-fifty-five posts (including this one). So for those of you who are literally asking for it, here are my tips for new bloggers.

1. Choose the right topic. Pick one that you can write about every morning, day in and day out, until the sunset of your life. Make it something for which you are passionate, something that you love, that you can distill into one sentence. I write about travel and love. Every post on this site is about one of those topics. Usually it’s about both.
   

   And I hope I'll never run out of material.

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2. Throw perfectionism out the window. If I waited until every blog post I wrote was perfect, I’d never put anything up. Perfectionism is paralyzing. My blog is riddled with typos and misspellings and the occasional broken link. But it exists. A truly perfect blog does not.
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3. Be yourself. There is no way you can maintain a blog if you aren’t true to who you are. I get distracted by desserts. I owe up to when I screw up and get lost. And I once wrote an entire post about John Stamos and cupcakes. I’m able to keep it up because it’s who I am.
   

   I ate one of these for breakfast. And the other one five minutes later.

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4. Be consistent. This is the most valuable piece of advice I can give to anyone who is considering blogging: you must post regularly. It doesn’t have to be daily (though it’s great if you can). It doesn’t even have to be weekly. But it must be updated at roughly the same time of day, at regular intervals. It gives readers something to count on, something to keep them coming back.
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5. Find a role model. Read lots of blogs (they don’t have to be in your topic area, but it’s better if they are); find a few that you are passionate about. Analyze what you like and don’t like. Try to emulate (but don’t copy) the good, and try to improve upon the bad. (Personally, I love the Fug Girls. I want to blog just like them when I grow up.)
   

   No, I am NOT surfing reddit while high on coca tea. I AM DOING RESEARCH ... while slightly high on coca tea.

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6. Don’t do it for the money, because there isn’t any. The sad truth is, most blogs aren’t very profitable – definitely not enough to live on. And if you aren’t willing to put ads on your site (presently, I am not) or do sponsored posts (nope!), then it’s hard to monetize. Save for a few freelance gigs, I’ve never made any income off my blog. Between design, development, and hosting, I’ve actually spent thousands. But I keep doing it because I love it. And because life – and my husband – have been gracious enough to let me keep doing it.
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7. Pretend you have an audience, even when you don’t. I wrote regularly, knowing that no one save for my husband and a guy named Philip were reading it. But I pretended my audience was bigger than that. I’d joke about the hate mail I was going to receive for writing a post. I’d tease them. I’d write to them, as though they were a real, living group of people. And pretty soon, that audience I kept pretending was there appeared.
   

   For years, my blog was read by these guys. And no one else.

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8. Be patient. I once got an email from a reader who wanted to know how long before she could “expect success” (which, to be fair, is totally subjective). At the time, she had been blogging for two months. She had written eight posts. I gently told her what my husband told me, years ago: it takes years to make a name for yourself in blogging. I’ve been doing it for two and half years, and I’m still a tiny little grain of sand on the beach. Sit down. Relax. And keep typing.
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9. Guest blog. It seems hypocritical of me to write this, because my blog is now closed to guest bloggers (I got too many requests from shady folks who wanted to do spammy blackhat stuff), but guest blogging is a great way to get your work out there, make some connections, and bring more traffic to your own blog. Just be sure to bring your A-game. If it’s so good you are almost sad that you can’t post it on your own blog, then it’s good enough to be on someone else’s site.
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10. Love the haters. Oscar Wilde said: “To be popular one must be a mediocrity.” If someone hates you enough to send you a letter or leave a rude comment about it, you are above mediocrity. Congratulations. You’ve made it.
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11. Add photos. It doesn’t matter how clever or brilliant your words are – you need to break up your text with the occasional image (one that you’ve taken, or one that you can legally use). You’ll likely find that photos will make your blog much richer. Or, at the very least, they’ll provide a visual sorbet for your readers.
    

    In this case, said sorbet is actually a puppy.

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12. Tell your friends about your blog. This is one of the hardest things to do, but if you expect people to read your blog, you will need to be okay with telling them about it. I know. It sounds tortuous, right? But I promise, it will be less embarrassing and awkward than you think. Especially if you follow rule #13.
    

    They probably won't make fun of you, given all the dirt you have on them.

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13. Don’t write anything you wouldn’t say to someone’s face. Fortunately, for me, that’s not very limiting. But I’m kind of an asshole. I say awful things to people’s faces. Still, this is a good rule (even for non-assholes).
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14. For the love of Pete, get on Twitter. You should be on it already. If you aren’t, get on it. Talk to and follow people in your industry. Tweet to famous folks. Tweet interesting links. Tweet your own posts. Tweet like your traffic depends on it, because it does.
    

    On twitter, you can pretend that famous people care about you.

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15. Don’t be afraid to change your mind. Perhaps a mindful commenter has said something that made you see things differently. Maybe time has caused you to reflect on your earlier beliefs, and you now see the folly of your ways. Or maybe you’ve just sobered up. Whatever the case, don’t be afraid to write another post, explaining your change of heart. Admitting that you were wrong, or changing your point of a view is a sign of maturity – both as a person and as a writer.
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16. Don’t hesitate to kill your darlings. In other words, don’t be afraid to hit delete. Whether it’s a few brilliant lines that aren’t working, or an entire post that doesn’t feel right, don’t hesitate to put the whole thing in the trash. If the idea of that makes you cringe, try cutting or pasting the content into another doc for a later day. But trust me: you’ll probably just end up deleting that, too.
    

    At a second glance, you might find it was all crap, anyway.

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So that’s it: the grand total of my wisdom as it pertains to blogging. I’ll be the first to note that I only spoke to style, voice, and tone. If you are looking for something more technical, I strongly suggest you check out my husband Rand’s tips for not-just-travel bloggers and my pal John Doherty’s blog post about SEO.

And if any of my fellow bloggers have any other useful tips for beginners, please feel free to share them in the comments.

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I’ve mentioned before that I don’t think photos should be taken in museums. And I stand by that point, even though I’m a really huge hypocrite about the whole thing. I defend my actions by claiming that I have to take photos for the blog. If I couldn’t take pictures, I’d have to pepper my posts with crude recreations of the works I’d seen, rendered by my unsteady hand in Microsoft Paint.

This becomes problematic if I have to create anything beyond the canon of Joan Miro (who, for the record, was brilliant and game-changing, but it’s really easy to fabricate a suitable decoy of his genius in roughly three minutes).

Behold, Miro’s The Flight of the Dragonfly in Front of the Sun:

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And my rendition of it, tentatively titled Catastrophic Ketchup Spill on Blue Carpet With Squiggle and Dot:

I am going to hell for this (and for all the other stuff I've done).

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Clearly nothing is sacred to me.

There is, fortunately, a limit to my callousness. Because while I may run around museums taking the occasional photo (with my flash off, of course), I’ve never requested someone move out of the way so that I may capture the perfect shot.

And believe me, that actually happens. I’ve had people tap me on the shoulder and wordlessly wave their hand to the side, just so they could get a grainy, overexposed photo of Christina’s World for their very own.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that there is a special level of hell for people like that, and they’ll eventually spend an eternity roasting alongside folks who got into the express lane at the grocery store with way more than 10 items (barbarians, the lot of them).

What’s more, the people who force others out of their shots are actually missing out. Because, as fellow-travel blogger Gary noted a while back on the blog, it’s often far more interesting to take photos of museums visitors than of the exhibits themselves.

Because isn’t this why we create in the first place? So that our creations may be seen?

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So if you must snap a picture of a great work of art, try to get some of your fellow museum-goers in the shot. When I do, it often means I end up taking photos of people taking photos, which I’m always fond of.

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Or I find the juxtaposition between a piece and a spectator becomes art in and of itself. This gentleman wandered into nearly every shot I took in the Nereid gallery at the British Museum. I found the contrast of the robed statues and his khaki-clad frame to be kind of hilarious.

What if he were half naked and wearing a robe, and the statues looked like GAP mannequins?

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There was something incredibly sweet about this couple walking up the stairs together.

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And there’s no way I could communicate the size of this statue without the young men standing in front of it.

Seriously, its nipples were like the size of my palm.

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Indeed, I think having a bit of humanity in the shot tends to make all those photos of great works of art even better.

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Yup. Definitely.

Fortunately, Angela has decided to share some of her wisdom with the rest of us slackers. Here are her tips for any traveler who wants to see the world with their little one along for the ride. (And yes, she manages to make it all look easy. She has a sickening knack for that sort of thing.)

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Hear ye, hear ye, all brave parents venturing into the great unknown with offspring in tow! I’ve been there and back … and lived to tell the tale. Here are the convictions I brought home as souvenirs. If you’re a fellow jet-set mom or dad, I humbly offer them up to you.

Let us remain strong in our conviction to give our children the experience, education, and memories that only travel can bring.

Live long and travel! (That’s for you, Geraldine.)

We’re as exhausted as she is. We're just better at not admitting it.

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1. Recognize that travel doesn’t necessarily mean “relaxing” any more.
   Long gone are the days when we could go out for a late dinner and drinks, sleep in until noon, sightsee, and do it all over again. Now we have people relying on us—people with minute-by-minute needs. That doesn’t mean, however, that we can’t still carve out relaxing moments.
   

   Sunset cocktail, anyone?

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   For instance, each evening at 5:00pm, my daughter and I would have a “sunset cocktail hour.” I’d pour her a sippy cup of milk (and me a glass of wine), and we’d lounge on the deck, enjoying the view together. What started out as a way to keep her sated before dinner while I took a breather became one of my favorite memories of the trip.

   You simply need to get creative. Relaxation is still possible, even if it’s no longer prevalent.

   

   My villa-mate shares a rare restful moment with her 3 month old.

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2. Ignore the naysayers.
   My husband and I were committed to taking our daughter to St. John, a pilgrimage of sorts. It would require two 5-hour flights each way. That was out of our hands. Our first flight was a red-eye. That was out of our hands. We simply hoped beyond hope that our 18-month-old would be tired enough to sleep. Unfortunately, that was out of our hands, too.
   

   She is the one who will not be tamed ...

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   As soon as we sat down on that first flight (our daughter was happy and quiet at this point, mind you), the person one up and over in 26E—a petite, black-haired witch of a woman—repeatedly peeked from beneath her sleep mask to give us the stink-eye. Let me tell you: That doesn’t do much to calm your nerves when you’re already edgy about your toddler’s upcoming 12+ hours of travel.

   

   This isn't what her mask said. But it should've been.

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   Two hours later, when our child was screaming bloody murder, wouldn’t you know it: 26E leans over and starts offering suggestions of what we should do. Then I jumped over my husband, ripped off her mask, and crammed it into her pursed, thoughtless little mouth.

   Okay, I only did that in my head. But the lesson is: There will always be naysayers. People who balk at the idea of you taking a trip at all. People who grumble on the airplane. People who roll their eyes at the restaurant. Ignore them all. Or smile. Or shove something down their throat. But whatever you do, don’t let them deter you.

3. You can do more than you think you can.
   It was the last day of our trip, and I found myself swimming with a car seat in the ocean. Yes, you heard me right. See?
   

   When I envisioned a family trip, this was definitely not a part of it.

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   Our daughter had puked on the winding road to the remote beach. We pulled over, and my husband’s trigger-happy gag reflex threatened to double our troubles. I sat, horrified, staring at my daughter for a few frozen seconds, during which I formed a plan. The coup de grace of this plan? A half-mile hike to and from the ocean for a morning car seat swim. Half an hour later, we were having fun in the sun—and a good laugh. The only evidence of our challenge was a car seat drying out on the beach, much to the hilarious astonishment of passersby.

   When it comes to traveling with a newborn, infant, toddler, child, teenager, or any combination of the above: you CAN do it. We saw a couple 5- and 7-year-old boys and 2-year-old twins. Those poor parents were outnumbered 2-to-1! And guess what? They were STILL having fun. You’d be amazed what you can do when it’s required and what can turn out to be fun (or at the very least funny, if only in retrospect).

4. Cheer each other on.
   Leaving the beach after the car seat incident, a darling older woman placed a hand on my elbow (contrary to Geraldine’s Florida encounter, this is still a kind gesture). Then she looked me in the eyes, and said, “You’re doing great.” I needed that. And when a kind stranger goes out of their way to tell you that, you believe it.
   

   You don't need to be this ecstatic about it. Just a little pat and "good job" will do.

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   Similarly, on the first plane home, even after sitting next to our crying, over-tired baby for hours, our seatmate assured me, “You guys are doing a great job.”

   Wow. So much relief, power, and confidence transferred through such simple words. Going forward, I’m going do this for other parents, too. The effect has much more potential for positive results than the sleep mask glares of Miss 26E.

   Remember to cheer on your spouse, too. Just knowing someone is in the same boat and sees and appreciates all you’re doing can make a huge difference on your outlook.

5. Be flexible.
   

   Our (almost criminally) adorable travel-mates.

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   We rented a house with two other sets of parents, friends of ours, each with 3-month-old babies. In case you don’t have kids and don’t know this (or have them and have forgotten), infants and toddlers are on completely different schedules. Infants sleep and eat every two hours or so, and all they require for a bed is two arms. Toddlers, however, are conscious of certain expected times for food and sleep. They’re also far less likely to doze contentedly while a parade of cruise-ship-bound snorkelers flap past your beach tent.

   

   Miracle upon miracle, Szaba sleeps! Baby Faris shows his support.

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   Granted, we did our best to make our daughter comfortable, but we weren’t willing to sacrifice rare vacation experiences to get her back home in her Pack ‘n’ Play at 11:00am. By being flexible and sticking with our group of friends on beach days, my husband and I could take turns, one watching her while the other checked out a bale of sea turtles with a snorkeling buddy, for instance.

6. Recognize that flexibility has consequences.
   As good as a child may be, there will be moments when all this flexibility catches up with them: a meltdown at a late dinner, a “Get this sand off of me!” tantrum on the beach, you get the picture.
   

   Moments before Szaba’s fancy restaurant meltdown. Notice the look of parental survival mode creeping over my husband’s face.

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   Contrary to what you may feel in that moment—heck, you might be tired, grumpy, and hungry at that point, too—your child isn’t trying to ruin your vacation or make things harder for you. It’s simply their way, as human beings who can’t personally make sure their needs are met, to communicate what their needs are. They have no choice but to depend on us as parents (even to their own annoyance at times). Keeping calm is the best tool in your arsenal. They can sense frustration, and that only makes things worse. Remember: You’re on vacation! Meet their needs as best you can, take a fresh look at the beauty all around you, and carve out some happy time (alone or with your spouse) to regroup and reset.

7. Downgrade your cleanliness standards.
   

   If you knew what was happening in this picture, you wouldn't think it was so cute.

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   This one is a hard one for me, I’ll admit. But when your child is writhing on the airplane floor in a sleep-deprived fit and finds—and then, oh god, proceeds to eat—a cookie she dropped hours before, there’s not much you can do but go with it. When your child decides it’s funny to scoop up chlorinated, bug-speckled pool water with her shovel and drink it, it’s already done. Go with it. Sure, it’s gross, and you’d never catch me doing those things, but they’re kids. They’re clueless. They’re resilient. They’ll live. And you’ll save yourself a lot of unnecessary stress by resigning yourself to that fact.

8. Give your electronics a vacation, too.
   

   "Words With Friends" ... over the Intenet ... with friends right beside you.

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   Sure, it’s tempting to keep that camera poised for the next scrapbook-worthy moment or to text your Facebook friends each vacation play-by-play. But if these devices are your focus, you’re missing it. If you don’t live in the moment now, when are you going to? Realize, revitalize, relax. Step away from those battery-powered temptresses. Embrace the rarity of this fleeting moment. See the joy on your baby’s face when she’s learning to kick in the pool. Hear the creak of the hammock, rocking in time with the ocean waves. Feel the sun on your skin, igniting old hopes and shedding light on new ideas. Witness what it is to be alive, and be thankful for it all.

   

   All the work was well worth it for a few moments with my baby like this.

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9. Congratulate yourself on a job well done. 
   Being a parent can be tough. Traveling can be tough. Put the two together, and you have a daunting challenge. BUT IT’S WORTH IT. I would even argue that it makes you a better parent. So get out there! See the world! Don’t be afraid. You and your child are destined for many amazing, funny, gross, and unexpected things out in this great big world of ours. Life is a pilgrimage, and vacations are some of the most memorable, triumphant moments along the way.-
10. Start planning the next trip.

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Want to learn more about Angela’s trip? Read her full post about tips for visiting St. John on MyCastleHeart.com!

Though really, more often than not, Rand or I will glance at our shocking un-photogenic mugs and say to the other, “You are the only person on the planet who will ever find me attractive.” (Which is perfectly okay, kids. You only need one near-sighted fool to think you’re pretty.)

Given the number of self-portraits I’ve taken, and the limited complete and utter lack of talent I possess for photography, I’ve learned a thing or two. Here’s my list of dos and don’ts for mastering those tricky one-armed self-portrait shots, and making sure that all of your chins are displayed in the best light.

1. Do make all subjects are clearly visible. And that you aren’t, say, covering your long-suffering spouse’s adorable mug with your own ginormous head. Which is made even MORE ginormous by a hat.
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   This is Rand's "I'm not amused" eye.

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2. Do figure out what your best angle is. For me, it’s my left side.
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   The downside of this is that nearly all our vacation self-portraits are IDENTICAL.

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   I repeat, MY LEFT SIDE, and not, say, straight-on, which gives me the distinct impression of looking like one of those troll dolls that were all the rage in middle school.

   

   Fact: under that hood is a poof of neon pink hair.

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3. Do make sure everyone in the photo is conscious.
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   I am going to be in such trouble for this photo. And yet, I have no regrets.

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4. Do invite other people into your shot, because with any luck, one of them will look like a pirate.
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   "Arrrgh!"

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5. Do try to find an interesting background.
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   I don't know why this photo makes me laugh so much. I think it's how smug I look. "NYAH NYAH NYAH! I have skin and you don't!"

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6. Don’t worry about taking photos at funky angles. Holding your camera high and tilted is a great way to avoid double chins. Which isn’t a problem if you are as stunning as my aunt (grumble, grumble).
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   She's not a blood relation, so it's not like I can inherit any of those fantastic genes, anyway.

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7. Don’t forget to adjust your focus.
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   Barcelona? I don't remember too much about that trip. THINGS GOT KINDA FUZZY! (Ba-dum-dum!)

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8. Don’t pay so much attention to how you look that you crop out something important.
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   I may not have a double chin but what does that matter when I CUT OFF THE STATUE OF LIBERTY'S ARM?

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9. Don’t over-expose yourself (I mean camera-exposure. Though you probably want to avoid having a nip-slip, too). At such a close range, it’s easy to look washed out by the flash.
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10. Don’t zoom in too closely.  You’ll scare the children.
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    Now you know what your goldfish feels like.

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So take my advice. Or don’t. Because you know what? It doesn’t matter. Sometimes you’re left with a blurry vacation photo because a dark-haired boy with twinkly eyes just swept you off your feet.

And when you see it, all you can think is, “Man. That’s a great picture.”