where to stay
Goreme Mansion, in Goreme, Capadoccia.
this is their address, believe it or not
what is home but a familiar pulling at the heart. who is family but people, by nature, to whom we are drawn and thus necessitate their comfort, shelter, grace, and presence. and what is homesickness then but an insatiable desire for an intangible past, a physical nostalgia, an endless and familiar dream.
i’ve recently come across this (by nature) unspeakably charming list of words for which there is no direct translation in english. they are feelings we all have, carried in our heart and experienced often, and there is ultimately nothing lost in translation. I forever find myself entranced in the beauty of languages that necessitated the development of these words.
this one, in particular, hit me.
a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
there is simply no explanation as to why i have left pieces of my heart buried deep in so many places. and it isn’t given voluntarily, it is taken. split from me and taken and consumed entirely. in places, it has been buried between sturdy cobblestones and enveloped into the ether of incomprehensible sunsets alike. in people, it has remained in conversations so deep that it’s a wonder only my heart and not my entire physical being was left there in the depths of a significant verbal exchange. and in relationships where perhaps your heart is only a token of the wholeness that you have given.
it’s involuntary and yet entirely accepted, because to give your heart in such unspoken discernment signifies a recognized respect, a visible beacon, a palpable sanctuary, a home, there.
a home there for your heart.
it happens in that first glance of the tower, likely through thick parisian fog and a blesssing for being so, because if seen any clearer it would shatter you completely. it happens when hearing the call to prayer in istanbul, the surprising harmonization of turet dwellers and worshippers alike. it happens in that last look at prague, and its painful fading into the distance feels as if you held the paintbrush and you alone dimmed each pastel rooftop and shimmering river and glowing streetlamp as it all fades, with permission it seems, into the distance.
it’s hiraeth. for which your heart breaks and then mends and then aches and then seeks.
never settling and always wistfully or painfully seeking.
and then home is something is felt so much deeper. and family are those people who are a constant and impenetrable presence. and love… love is a fucking earthquake.
hiraeth is what we seek and fear from travel. and thus, unquestionably, the reason why we do.
built to replicate the iconic crab houses in maryland, this place has endless decks, bushels of crabs, buckets of beer, and relentless sunsets every single night. except instead of having the chesapeake bay or historic baltimore (euphemism!) as a backdrop, you get that magical and proud point where the east river meets the hudson and lady liberty reminds you that this city (and country!) is so fucking dope. oh and there is putt putt. yep.
24 reed st
if you haven’t had enough shellfish, this no-frills lobster joint offers the best and most affordable lobster dinner in town. huge bonus if you’re a sports (especially patriots) fan- they project games on a big screen in the back and game days are respectfully energetic but non-douchey.
284 van brunt st.
cacao factory + whiskey distillery? plus coordinated tastings of each? yep. whiskey made in the style of traditional tennessee bourbon. nibs on nibs of cacao. gogao!
214 Conover St.
paper, textile goods, and housewares shop from british designer that is guaranteed to have on hand the next perfect gift you need. walk in, be nearly disorientingly charmed.
392 van brunt st.
surprisingly savory sweets in a charming little nook of a bakeshop. try: everything.
359 van brunt
meats so tender they’ll make even the toughest new yorker fall apart. this is the best carolina style barbecue i’ve had north of the mason dixon line, and it just feels good to be in this place. go. eat.
454 van brunt st.
a winery on the pier in the east river looking out onto our shining metropolis and everything beyond. tours, tastings, events, sunsets – all of these things are available to you here. go, my friends. and partake.
175 Van Dyke St
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
this description that fits so well everyone who inspires me.
every morning in taipei started with the same understood priority, the same frenzied mentality, the same shameless need- get pork buns. of course this task was quickly followed on our mental itinerary by “check out hidden taiwanese morning market” and “visit taipei memorial hall” or “hike up to breathtaking view of skyline at elephant park” and “stroll around xinyi district” “share bottle of wine to get the nerve to check out taipei 101.” but first, always, the pork buns.
I am not one of those people who hates packing. I love the excitement that comes with seeing myself in every piece of clothing I pack, and picturing it in a landscape on the other side of the world. I have no idea what I’ll see, who I’ll meet, what I feel- but here’s what I’ll look like.
…and then of course jamming my meticulously-selected pieces all into my backpack and embarking upon my next adventure… which, as of tomorrow, will be to southeast asia, for my college roommate’s wedding.
if perhaps the only thing standing in the way of you and your far-east getaway is how the hell to pack, read on, dear friends- i’ve just figured it all out for you.
all of the pieces in your pack should go together seamlessly so you can get the most out of a few essentials. my theme? far-east bohemian- florals, kimonos, fringe, all in an earthy color palette.
jewelry should be simple and personal. Statement necklaces are bound to get squished in customs and an armful of bracelets are bound to get sweaty. When I’m traveling I like my jewelry to tell a story so they have the opportunity to be a conversation piece among fellow travelers. These, a coin necklace from prague and my secret society personalized cuff from giles and brother (a secret share only with this lovely human), plus a simple pair of onyx drops from coralia leets for a simple, elegant addition. never underestimate the power of a bold headband, like my favorites from eugenia kim.
a kimono can double as a beach coverup, or over pretty much anything to give it a romantic and ethereal appeal. for this trip, i’m bringing this one, covered in poppies and trimmed with tassels.
a crochet bikini top, alone at the beach or paired with high-waisted trousers to bring your gypsy look downtown. free people, big surprise, does it best here.
a black romper transitions easily from day to night with a simple change of shoes and accessories. try this one from, yes, that store i’m not ashamed to shop at (but might embed the link in a sneaky way).
white, grey, black. tees, tanks, dresses.
is the only bag you need. this fringy number from urban outfitters will be coming along with me, enough room for my camera, wallet, sunglasses and notebook. and a zipper for those sticky-fingered strangers who seem to frequent every destination i visit.
i dare you to tell me you need more- i won’t have it. bring one for daytime exploring, one for adventurous expeditions, and one to make you feel sexy after a long day full of both of those previous activities. the ones i’ll be bringing are these flat sandals, some sturdy (and perhaps expendable, depending on the rough terrain) wedges found here, and my trusty tevas (don’t hate!) for hiking, kayaking, and anything else that comes your way.
see you out there.