I’ve been delighted (and if I’m being totally honest, the tiniest bit surprised) by the quality of food in Belgrade. From coffee to pastry to casual bites to wine, nearly everything I’ve consumed has been both tasty and affordable. Last night I went on the Gastro Balkan Foodie Tour with some of my fellow travelers, and it proved Belgrade can go toe-to-toe with New York in fine dining—and blows NYC out of the water when it comes to price.
Our first stop was Ambar, a modern Balkan restaurant on the river that has a D.C. outpost as well. We kicked things off with a rakija mojito and feasted on Balkan-style tapas. I could eat a basketful of the gloriously puffy bread with three different dips, and the almond puree complemented the bacon-wrapped date. Apparently they offer $30 all-you-can-eat; I’ll be back to test my stomach’s puffy bread capacity.
Next was upscale and innovative Miamiam where we drank effervescent rose with three delicious courses: cucumber, avocado, and melon gazpacho in a glass; gravlax with a rye crouton, a slice of pear, and blueberry goat cheese; and (possibly the highlight of the evening for me) gorgeously wine-glazed pork belly topped with a plum, sweet potato puree, and garlic cream. I may have batted cleanup on my friend’s dish as well with that last one. Miamiam is just around the corner from my apartment here, so I will definitely go again in my two remaining weeks (how am I already down to two weeks?!) in Belgrade.
All of that was just a warm-up for the fine dining extravaganza that is Homa, where we had four beautiful and interesting courses: a sort of cheese puff that melts in your mouth with truffle mayo and shaved truffle; the most perfectly formed ricotta gnocchi I’ve ever eaten (they can get rather gummy; these had an ideal texture) with forest mushrooms AND MORE TRUFFLES; a squid ink pasta with fried Adriatic squid; and more pork belly—you can never have enough—with a pork fillet, grilled peach, and salad with truffle dressing. I don’t know what we did to deserve all that, but it was incredible, as were the white and red wine pairings.
Because you can’t have all that savory without a little sweet, we then made our way to Crna Ovca, an ice cream parlor with inventive flavors. I was tempted by a combo of sesame coffee with chocolate covered coffee beans and peanut butter with milk chocolate covered pretzels, but I’ll have to go back for that. With many, many courses sitting in my belly, I opted for the somewhat lighter combination of lemon basil and stracciatella with star anise.
And if we didn’t finish our meal with rakija, we wouldn’t be in Belgrade. So our final stop on the tour was Rakia Bar, where we sampled a few different kinds. They’re all ridiculously strong, but they range in flavor intensity from liquid candy to Robitussin to…drain cleaner, I’d imagine. But seriously, it was a fun end to an amazing night. Not only is the food excellent in Belgrade, the hospitality is phenomenal. From servers to chefs to our lovely guide, Uros, everyone was warm and welcoming—as evidenced by our (unnecessary and unexpected but so lovely and appreciated) parting gifts, wooden spoons with our names in Cyrillic burned into the handles. My name hardly makes sense in Serbian—with the way their letters are pronounced, it’s more like Yenneefer), but I’m happy to have something by which to remember a wonderful evening.
Whenever I go on vacation, I find myself wondering if I should live there. I definitely contemplated it when I went to Anguilla last winter. Why return to snowy New York?, I thought. Anguilla has everything I need.
Traveling with We Roam has allowed me to test this idea. While a month isn’t long enough to experience all the nuances of a place, it’s long enough to give you a sense for what day-to-day life is like. And I’ve learned there’s a huge difference between places I want to visit and places I want to live.
I’ve only been in Belgrade for three days now, but I can tell it’s extremely livable. I already have a favorite coffee shop, Aviator—they have several branches, but one (pictured below) is just around the corner from my apartment. And if around the corner is too far, I have another lovely coffee shop by day/bar by night right next door. On the other side of my building is a reasonably well stocked 24-hour grocery store, and there’s another just across the street. Every restaurant I’ve been to so far has been delicious, affordable, and within an eight-minute walk from my flat.
Yes, food and drinks comprise 90% of my happiness.
But really, I’m not saying Belgrade has everything I need (New York’s arts scene has ruined me for most cities, and the dating apps here offer slim pickings), but my essential building blocks for contentment are present.
An interesting flip side is the cities where I’ve felt most at home so far, Berlin and Belgrade, are two of the least picturesque. Last month in Split was such a strange month for me—while I had some of my favorite moments of the trip there (visiting the waterfalls at Krka on my long-distance date, for one), I felt frustrated living in a town that was filled to the brim with other travelers, where the closest grocery store was a 15-minute walk away and closed at 7 pm, and the restaurants were largely either unappealing or overpriced with middling food.
Yet Split is undeniably beautiful. While it shares some unfortunate Communist bloc architecture with Berlin and Belgrade, the ancient beauty of the old town with Diocletian’s Palace and the natural beauty of the coast shine through.
For me, though, amenities trump appearance. I would have loved Split if I’d stayed there for a couple nights on my way to the islands, as most travelers do, but 37 days there was far too long.
All of this is deeply subjective. I knew that before this trip, of course; New York is an incredibly polarizing city. But it’s been fascinating to travel alongside people, having nearly identical experiences of a place but completely opposite reactions. My roommate last month adored Split. She drew energy from just walking around the old town and felt like she could happily stay there forever. Berlin, meanwhile, the latest love of my life, left her cold.
I’d be happy to visit Split, but I’d go crazy if I lived there. I could easily live in Belgrade, but it wouldn’t be my top recommendation to someone looking for a vacation. But you might disagree. And that’s one reason why we travel—to discover these things for, and about, ourselves.
Last week I boarded yet another ferry to travel to Dubrovnik. I’d intended for this to be the last city on my island hop, but since I detoured home and then to Tisno, it was a completely separate trip—so a 7 AM, six hour ferry ride, it was. (Technically the ferry is only supposed to take four and a half hours, but it was massively delayed on the way there and back, so I don’t buy it. If you’re hoping to go straight from the ferry to the airport, plan accordingly.)
I was a little tired after the back and forth, and I might have skipped Dubrovnik entirely, but a new friend on the trip decided to join me for the first night. She provided exactly the motivation I needed to get my butt out of bed and to the ferry dock.
Day 1
Our adventure got off to a late start—not only was the ferry slow, but the Airbnb host left us sitting at a cafe for over an hour. Luckily, I’d packed a lunch, so we ate chips and shared a peanut butter sandwich while kicking things off with a couple beers, which we regretted as soon as we saw how many steps were involved in reaching the apartment. Once we made it up there, though, we realized the view was more than worth it.
After Instagramming our fill from the windows, we walked down into the old city. Walking in the gates, you truly do feel like you’re entering an ancient castle. We were instantly charmed.
Not quite satiated from half of a sandwich, we proceeded to snack our way through town, starting with a 10% off happy hour pizza, followed by iced coffees. Thus fortified, we were able to scout an actual destination, D’Vino Wine Bar. We sat on stools in an adorable alley and each had a wine flight, while sharing an exceptional cheese plate with goat cheese and fresh ginger.
Then with just a couple hours until dinner, we had to work up our appetites again, so we decided to walk the city walls. The views were fantastic, and while the walk had a few (a lot) more steps than we’d anticipated, it wound up being my favorite Dubrovnik activity. It’s crowded no matter when you go, but aim for early in the morning or, like we did, an hour before closing when you get the golden hour light.
By the time we completed the circuit, it was nearly time for dinner at Nautika. The restaurant overlooks the water and the city walls, and everything—the views, the service, the food—was delightful. We started with scallops covered in flakes of black truffle, then had sea bass and tuna. The portions are relatively small, but the flavors are excellent. With dessert, we tried two of their signature cocktails. Our waiter served my whiskey-based drink in a teapot, and I was very. very. happy.
We turned in early, but the beach club down the hill, Banje, had the music going, so we opened the windows and felt like we had the best of both worlds, listening and lying in bed.
Day 2
We had a leisurely breakfast on a patio in the old city (just pick one; they’re very similar), and then we powered up the steps to get to the cable car. The wait was a little long and a lot hot, but eventually we made it up the mountain to take in the view:
If you only have time for one touristy activity, I’d pick the walls over the cable car, though both were fun. I said goodbye to my travel companion, as she decided to Uber to the ferry from the top of the hill, and I went back down the way I came.
By then it was mid-afternoon, and I didn’t have quite enough time to visit the island of Lokrum (pictured above) or head to the beach, so I finished exploring all the twists of the old city. If you’re a Game of Thrones fan (I’m not), there’s a lot to see—I accidentally settled in for a short break on what I thought were just some picturesque steps and then ran away after the fifth group walked by filming themselves yelling, “SHAME, SHAME.” Ugh.
Even though it’s incredibly touristy, I decided to check out Buza Bar, basically built into the cliff. It’s ridiculously crowded, but the ocean views are lovely. I then had an early dinner at Kopun and ate rooster (capon) prepared in the traditional way, which I highly recommend.
I had to get up early the next morning, so I headed home and spent the evening watching the sun set from my apartment’s window. My Airbnb called itself “Apartment Perfect View,” a surprisingly honest description.
Day 3
On my last day, I took a day trip, booked through Viator, to Mostar, a town in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Mostar—as you can tell from the name—is famous for Stari Most (old bridge). Originally built in the 16th century, the bridge was completely destroyed in the war in 1993 and reconstructed in 2004 with the help of global donations. We arrived just in time to see a member of the Mostar Diving Club jump off the bridge, a leap they make a few times a day.
Beyond the bridge and the bazaar, there isn’t too much else to see in Mostar, but I appreciated learning a bit more about the history of the region on the guided tour. It made me realize just how little I know—I had no idea the country was divided into Bosniaks (generally Muslim), Serbs (Orthodox), and Croats (Catholic) and that the presidency is comprised of one person from each of these groups, who fill a rotating chair position.
Though Mostar was full of tourists, the country is in the early stages of tourism. You can still see some of the ruins from the war around town, and our guide was generally pessimistic about their recovery. I bought a few books to help me better understand, but I’m glad I was able to visit in person to gain some context. And I love these guided tours for solo travelers; it would have been difficult to replicate this experience on my own.
On the way back to Dubrovnik, we stopped at Kravice Falls—not quite as beautiful as Krka, but very pretty. The description of the tour unfortunately failed to mention this, so I didn’t think to bring a swimsuit, but I had a nice sit on the riverbank.
We returned in the early evening, and I grabbed a quick pasta dinner before watching the sun set once more and packing up my things for the long and early ferry ride back to Split.
Dubrovnik is one of those places that’s incredibly touristy but still manages to hold onto its appeal. I’d recommend it over Split, should you be deciding how to spend your time; while Split is technically larger, Dubrovnik’s old city is much more impressive. If you’ve been, let me know what you think in the comments. And check out my Instagram for more photos of these magical places.
When I wrote about bailing on my island hop last week, I mentioned that it freed me up to accept an invitation to visit the little town of Tisno—here’s the story I hinted at.
Shortly after I arrived in Barcelona back in May, right after I’d started traveling, a guy messaged me on OKCupid. We’ll call him Evan. He was cute, I was interested. Only problem is that he was back in New York. First date next year?, I offered.
We chatted a bit, and it turned out we’d both be in Croatia in August. I filed it in the back of my mind for a few months, and we reconnected once we were here. My hopes for a fun Croatian date, though, soon dissipated when I realized we were geographically incompatible.
I’m based in Split, without a car or boat or helicopter, and Evan was staying in Tisno, also without transportation, 119 km (about 74 miles) up the coast.
He quickly explained that it was impossible for him to come see me—there are no rental car companies in his small seaside town, and even if there were, he was visiting his mother, and there’s no way she would be okay with him taking a couple days out of his annual visit to drive down the coast to see a girl.
And I dug in my heels and refused to go there. Years of social conditioning have taught me that Men Are Supposed to Make the Effort. They are supposed to call, they are supposed to pick you up, if they ask you out less than three days in advance, you must refuse, because you are supposed to be unavailable, and they are supposed to pursue.
Now I don’t truly believe in that anti-feminist, regressive bullshit. (I actually fired a therapist in New York who tried to push it on me, but that’s a story for another day.) But when you hear these things often enough—and as a woman, you hear them constantly—they seep into your subconscious. And on a more personal level, I’ve had many experiences, with men, friends, work, even family, where I am putting forth piles of effort and getting little in return.
Because of all that, I said, no, sorry, and anyway, I have a trip planned, so maybe I’ll see you in 2018. But we kept talking. And my trip turned out to be a bust. Then I looked online and discovered there was a vacancy for a couple nights in the one nice hotel in Tisno. It had a pool, and even more appealing to someone who’s spent the last few weeks sweating uncomfortably, it had CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING. Finally, I decided what the hell. He might be great, he might be terrible, but at least I’ll get a couple good nights’ sleep in that sweet sweet artificial coolness.
So I managed to rent a car, which due to the aforementioned problems I had in Germany, was not an easy feat, and just two days after taking the ferry back from Vis, I headed north.
My expectations were low. Evan had made it clear that his mom was his first priority (as she should be, really, I’m neither insane nor an asshole), and he had some prior commitments. But he ended up making more of an effort than I’d anticipated, and I had two of my best days on the trip so far.
After a quick, get-to-know-you, make-sure-we-actually-like-each-other lunch, we hopped in my rental car, and he drove me to a little local swimming spot. Down a pothole-strewn dirt road, a little hike through the forest, and here we were:
In Croatia, this is a beach. I have Feelings about that, but I’ll admit that it’s lovely. You just have to really earn your swim by walking on the dirt trail, climbing down the rocks, and hopping over the sea urchins. But the people were few, and the water was salty perfection.
To my surprise, Evan actually invited me to join his evening plans, a movie with friends in a nearby town. But I decided to pass—it had been a long day, and I wanted to see Tisno for myself. I had a delightful evening. The sea breeze was refreshing, I adored the old men fishing off the bridge, and I found a little restaurant where everyone was speaking Croatian and I could get a giant mixed grill plate for 12 bucks.
I thought the beach outing might be all Evan would have time for; early on in our talks, he’d said he could only get away for a couple hours. Instead, he told his mom he had a friend in town (his mom, not being an idiot, was delighted he had a girl visiting and wanted me to come over for cake…that didn’t happen haha), and we made plans to visit Krka National Park the next day.
While Evan dealt with a burst pipe in the morning, I had a lazy few hours reading a book poolside. Then we were off to see the waterfalls, an easy half hour drive from Tisno.
If you ever find yourself in Croatia, Krka is the one thing I think you must do. The drive in is beautiful; you can see the river from the highway. After you park, you take a bus down a winding road with increasingly gorgeous views. Then you hike down a crowded wooden walkway, passing pools and lookout points and small falls. Then you get here:
Despite the crowd, I had a ridiculous amount of fun swimming against the current and clambering over the river rocks. It was worth every one of the many steps it took to climb back to the bus stop. (The fact that Evan bought me post-climb ice cream before dinner, my favorite soft serve twist cone, helped, too.)
We stopped for dinner on the way home at the perfect roadside country restaurant, where they specialize in meat on a spit. I’m fully carnivorous, and I was practically jumping up and down with excitement when I got out of the car and saw the fire pit. The lamb was fantastic, as was the bottle of Evan’s favorite Croatian red. Basically, if he’d just taken me to a bookstore, too, it would have been Jennifer’s Dream Date.
There are at least a dozen reasons why I had such a good time over these two days. Obviously, Evan and I got along well. We talked easily, commiserating over our careers in dwindling art fields, discussing relationships and family and hopes for the future. I really appreciated how he acknowledged and reciprocated the effort I put forth in getting there. It was perfect to be shown around a new place by someone who knows it well (he grew up in Croatia) but also knows my home (he’s lived in NYC for nearly a decade). And it was relaxing to let someone else take the lead, especially in the midst of a year in which I’m navigating one unfamiliar city after the next.
It represents the best of what this trip can be: I took a risk that paid off and had an exciting adventure with a handsome man in a spectacular setting.
But as we said goodbye—he was packing up the house the next day and preparing to go home; I was returning to Split—I realized it also represents the worst. For while the trip may bring exquisite moments, they’re almost inevitably fleeting, as we continue to press on to the next place, person, experience.
Many a well-meaning friend has asked, a hopeful lilt in their voice, if we’ll see each other when I go back to New York. It’s possible, but that’s months…perhaps as much as a year…away, and so many things could happen between now and then. But I suppose we’ll always have Tisno.
Last Saturday, I boarded a catamaran to visit the island of Vis, the first stop on what was supposed to be a 10-day vacation, hopping to Hvar, Korcula, and Dubrovnik. The very next day, I returned home to Split, tired and sweaty and annoyed.
I haven’t made a secret of the fact that Croatia is not my favorite. I’m not really an ocean person in general—I enjoy the occasional beach vacation, but more of the “stay in a hotel that’s two steps to the beach and go to that beach every day and read a book while a waiter brings drinks” variety, rather than the Croatian “hike to this random rocky outcrop or take a scooter halfway across the island and walk across some pebbles to swim in the sea.” I think I’d like Croatia okay in June, but in August (particularly this August), it’s just not my idea of a good time.
So I got to Vis, and it’s cute and all, but it didn’t take my breath away. Then I met my (very sweet) Airbnb host who took me to the apartment…where I realized that I had royally fucked up.
I made my reservation both too early and too late. Too early because I was still in Berlin, where it was rainy and chilly, and the importance of air conditioning was not at the forefront of my mind. Too late because by the time I had booked, there were approximately two apartments to choose from in this little town.
And the apartment was stifling. By the time my host finished describing tours and telling me where the best beaches were (on the other side of the island…and the closest beach was a 40 minute walk away), sweat dripped down her face. I left all the windows and the balcony door open and left for dinner, hoping it would be cooler when I came home.
It was not. And I was in a foul mood because I’d dropped my knife and spattered gravy all over my favorite shirt, and it took a literal hour to get the bill. So I waited and watched Felicity on my laptop, hoping it would cool down as the night progressed. Around 3 AM, I finally dozed off, and I think I slept for a solid 15 minutes or so as I lay there, hot and miserable.
At 10 AM, I dragged my sticky, sweat-coated, unrefreshed self out of bed and decided I’d had enough. Vacations are supposed to be fun, and I wasn’t having any. I re-packed my stuff and got on the noon ferry back to Split.
Hi, Vis! Bye, Vis.
As frustrating as it was to waste time and money like that, I did learn a few lessons from the experience that I hope I can keep in mind as I travel:
1. I can’t do everything.
I’ve always said that I want to travel (almost) everywhere. Now I’m on this adventure, and I’m getting to experience so many different places. But I’ve felt such pressure to do more. If I’m in Croatia, I must do all the things there are to do in Croatia. Islands! Waterfalls! Go go go go go! And if in addition to seeing Croatia, I can fit in a side trip to a neighboring country, too, so much the better.
But, in month four of my trip, I’m realizing just how unfeasible this is. I’m tired. I don’t have time to prepare for all these adventures, either practically or psychologically, so I’m not enjoying it when I get there. Instead…
2. I need to prioritize what I really want.
The night before I was set to leave on the trip, my roommate for the month noted how unexcited I seemed about it. She wasn’t wrong—I haven’t really dreamed of seeing these islands; it’s just the thing you do in Croatia, so I was doing it.
The thing about joining We Roam is that while I can choose my itinerary, the individual countries are set. The upside is that sometimes I discover a place like Berlin that I had no idea I would love so much. The downside is that sometimes I spend a month in a country I don’t like.
But I do have control over my side trips, so it’s silly to plan those based on some external idea of what I *should* be doing. Instead I need to look at a map and figure out where I can go that excites me and ignites my sense of adventure. If I do that and still find myself in a spot I don’t really want to be, though…
3. It’s okay to bail.
I don’t like quitting things. Even if it’s just a vacation, quitting feels like failure. And it sucks to lose money. But I think what sucks more is sitting alone on an island (or wherever), miserably holding fast to your principles.
I tweeted something last month that still resonates with me:
I’ve regretted quitting things because I was lazy but never because I was unhappy.
That’s particularly true when it comes to something like vacation, where pleasure is the sole purpose. And the best thing about it is…
4. Bailing makes room for things I enjoy more.
You’ll get the full story in another blog post soon, but since my island hop was a bust, I decided to accept an offer to visit the little town of Tisno, where I wound up having the best two days I’ve had since I joined the trip. And that never would have happened if I’d stayed, sweaty and sad, on the island of Vis.
I recently listed to the audiobook of The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck, by Sarah Knight, and I highly recommend it. It’s all about not giving a fuck about things you don’t actually care about so you have more fucks to give on the things that you do. This whole post is very much in line with that philosophy: when it comes to side trips, I need to do a better job going forward of allocating my fucks.
If you love art, it’s hard not to love Berlin. There are numerous museums, but there’s art beyond them, too, from the streets to a cemetery. Here are three amazing art experiences I had outside a museum’s walls:
This was perhaps my favorite Berlin activity. Our guide, Kurtis, led us around the streets of Kreuzberg, showing us graffiti and street art, explaining various styles and techniques, and teaching us about the different artists and their works. Kurtis is a graffiti artist himself, and I appreciated getting an insider’s perspective into the culture. I learned more than I thought there was to know about this kind of art, from the three types of graffiti to the unwritten rules between artists.
After a few hours of walking (and bussing and subwaying; Alternative Berlin keeps it local), we headed to the artists’ warehouse in far East Berlin to create our own works. They had hundreds of stencils for us to choose from, which we cut out, and then they showed us a few different spray paint techniques to use on our canvases. My mom and I both had so much fun designing our pieces.
East Side Gallery
Sitting right out on the street and free of charge is the East Side Gallery, a 1.3 km section of the Berlin Wall covered in over 100 paintings. It officially opened in 1990, less than a year after the Wall came down, and the works were restored in 2009. I went twice during my month in Berlin, captivated each time by the provocative works of art, each unique and powerful.
American artist James Turrell created an ethereal light installation for the burial chapel in Dorotheenstädtischer cemetery. During the summer months, it’s only possible to view the installation with a ticket for the accompanying lecture, which takes place in English once a week.
The talk, which features background about the artist, the installation, and the cemetery, begins during what’s known as the blue hour. As the lecture finishes, so does the lighting program, and for 30 minutes, you sit (or stand, if you wish) and observe as the light—on the walls, the altar, the alcove behind the altar—cycles through different combinations of colors. I found it meditative and beautiful.
One of the things I enjoy about We Roam is that we stay in apartments, which means our housing is outside the main tourist area. Not only does this give you a sense of what it’s really like to live as a local, it lets you explore a completely different area of the city–especially key in an enormous place like Berlin.
If you find yourself traveling to Berlin for more than a couple days (which you definitely should!), I’d recommend skipping the hotels in Mitte and grabbing an Airbnb in Neukölln instead. I fell in love with my neighborhood, and here are a few of my favorite spots:
Where to Eat Breakfast or Brunch
Cabslam is open every day except Wednesday from 10 am until 4 (5 on the weekends), and they serve breakfast all day. Strawberry mint pancakes, fried goat cheese and bacon biscuit (real American-style bacon, no less), insane home fries…come here if you need to fuel up for an adventure or recover from the one you had the night before.
Where to Eat Dinner with Friends
Txokoa: difficult to pronounce but delicious to eat. It’s a Basque-style tapas bar–perfect for a group because the more dishes you can order, the better. If you’re interested in the special, order it right away because they do run out. I’m still dreaming of the wild garlic and potato croquettes with a delightful orange sauce.
Where to Eat a Fancy Dinner
Eins44 doesn’t have a Michelin star (yet?), but it’s definitely one-star Michelin quality and perfect for a nice evening out. There are two menus set up as suggested six-course dinners, but what you actually eat is up to you–between three and six courses, mixed and matched among the menus. The listings only give you a sense of what you’re about to eat; “spinach, chicken, and horseradish,” for instance, turned out to be a sort of spinach puree on one plate and a bowl of gorgeously rich chicken broth. I found the surprise to be part of the fun. And the wine pairings, NB, were the best I had all month.
Where to Drink
Any of the bars on Weserstraße will do. I adored the slighty decrepit, La Vie Boheme feel of the back rooms lit entirely by tall candles. The server would replace the candles as they burned down, just as she would refill your empty glasses. If you need a starting point, try Tier with its array of seating options.
Where to Relax
Whether your idea of relaxation involves lying in the grass or kite surfing, check out Tempelhofer Feld, an airport-turned-park. As you can imagine given the park’s first life, it’s expansive and flat. The runways make perfect tracks for sports, and the grass is thick and luxurious. I’d go on a cloudy day, though; there’s not much shade.
Where to Get a Tattoo
I considered it as I walked by Unikat each day, but I didn’t quite pull the trigger on my second tattoo. One of my fellow travelers did, though, and can vouch for the skills of their artists. And if you aren’t attached to a particular design, you can get cheaper ink on Flash Fridays, featuring a rotating selection of their own creations.
Where to Buy English-Language Books
With two locations, north (Pflügerstraße 63) and south (Braunschweigerstraße 66), The Berlin Book Nook has you covered. They have a good, wide-ranging selection of used, English-language books in an appropriately packed space. The staff is friendly, and the prices are reasonable. What’s not to love?
I hope to find myself back in Neukölln soon. Until then, go explore for me.
Last Friday, I set off alone for a German road trip adventure. I had a rough start: I’d scoured the car rental sites looking for an automatic (I know–I’ve tried to learn how to drive a stick…someday, I hope) and thought that I’d found the perfect deal with Sixt. But when I got there, they told me that I couldn’t rent the car I’d reserved because my license was issued less than two years ago. They were baffled by my explanation of moving states and having to get a new license; I was baffled by this ridiculous rule. It took nearly two hours and a lot of yelling, but I finally hit the road…in a far shittier car than I’d anticipated, but oh well.
ON THE AUTOBAHN
The Autobahn is the German highway, and it’s achieved mythic status for many in the States. I have to admit I was a little disappointed–there are in fact speed limits on much of the highway. A friend of mine has the mailed traffic ticket to prove it (I may get one soon as well, who knows). But moreover, there’s just a shit ton of road construction. It felt like every few miles, the lanes were reduced and narrowed to the point where I was gripping the wheel in a panic. The fact that there were two sets of lines on the road didn’t help matters; many people straddled lanes as they drove. It also poured rain on half of my driving days, making speed impossible.
Yet there were a few stretches where it lived up to my expectations. I couldn’t do much in my go-kart of a car–there were times when I was in the far right lane going 150 kmh (about 93 mph) while other cars whipped by me. It’s a far more active sort of driving overall. If someone is moving faster than you, you’d best get over.
BREMEN
Because of the delay, I didn’t arrive in Bremen until around 4 pm. But that was just enough time to do what I wanted to, and I was pleasantly surprised by the town. My hotel, the Atlantic Grand, was perfectly situated just steps from the main square, which was completely adorable.
I started off with a visit to a small museum. Bremen houses the first museum dedicated to the work of a female painter, the Paula Modersohn-Becker Museum. While I enjoyed her expressionist works, I really loved the temporary exhibition of Slawomir Elsner, his works featuring subtle crosshatching and a blurred, vague effect, as seen at right.
I then wandered through the Schnoor, the oldest part of Bremen and very picturesque. There are a ton of shops and galleries; I had to seriously resist temptation. I settled on ice cream instead, in the Schnoorkuller flavor–it’s traditionally a cake, but it worked nicely in a cone.
I wandered back through the main square and snapped the obligatory pic of the Bremen Town Musicians statue. I kept wandering into the less pretty, but more functional, part of town, and since I had a little time to kill before dinner, I read on the grass for a while beneath the Kaffee Muhle, a windmill turned cafe. I also took my favorite photo of the trip there:
I had dinner at Grashoff, a little bistro that was perfectly fine. Then I watched the sun set over the river and went to bed to prepare for the next day’s drive.
KASSEL
Kassel is the main reason I embarked on this trip. Every five years, the city hosts Documenta, a massive, month-long art exhibition spread out over many venues across town. 2017 brought Documenta 14, and with it, the Parthenon of Books: a life-sized replica of the Parthenon in Athens, constructed from 100,000 copies of banned books and built on a former Nazi book burning site. I came across an article about it on Facebook, noticed it wasn’t far from Berlin, and decided I had to go. And so here it is, in all its glory:
My visit to Documenta 14 suffered a bit from my lack of time to plan. I really needed a couple of days to see more of the exhibition. But it was early afternoon when I arrived, the booklet describing the various exhibits was 50 pages long, and every venue I saw had a line wrapped around the block. So I decided to be satisfied with getting to see what I most wanted to, and my only other touristy stop in town was the Grimmwelt.
The Grimmwelt is a museum dedicated to the Brothers Grimm, and it’s nearly as magical as the stories. The building itself is lovely, as you can see, and they have exhibits set up from Z-A, many of which are interactive. In addition to seeing some old documents and household objects, you can talk to a magic mirror on the wall and walk through a forest of trees that whisper at you.
The town was a little overrun with art lovers, so I wasn’t able to get dinner reservations. I wound up at a pizzeria (pizza is never a bad idea), notable only for its giant portions, and walked some of it off on the mile and a half trek back to my hotel. I wouldn’t stay at the Grand La Strada unless I had to. It’s allegedly four stars, but it’s stifling, and my room had crimson shag carpeting that I was reluctant to walk on.
I almost had a very quick stay there indeed. My final stop on the trip was supposed to be the famed Neuschwanstein Castle. The night before I set out, the forecast was clear. By evening in Bremen, the forecast was for nonstop rain when I was supposed to go but spotty the day before. I contemplated leaving Kassel at 3 AM to get there by opening hours, a day earlier than I’d planned. But by dinnertime in Kassel, the forecast was fairly wretched for both days, and I decided I had to abandon my castle dreams. It was incredibly frustrating to come so close, but I thought it was better to let it lie than spend hours of effort when it would likely end up disappointing me. So I went ahead and slept in, then drove on to my final town.
ROTHENBURG OB DER TAUBER
Rothenburg odT is a tiny tourist trap of a medieval town–but it is, admittedly, very cute. The Burg-Hotel, where I stayed, was absolute perfection, from the exterior, to the sweet elderly man who insisted on carrying my suitcase up three flights of stairs (not pictured, sorry, haha), to the view from my window.
There isn’t much to do in the town except wander. There’s a small Christmas museum and a preserved medieval home-turned-museum, but neither seemed worth the price of admission. Instead, I simply wandered, through the park that gives you an outside view on the walled city…
through the center of town…
and through a narrow walkway on the walls themselves for a rooftop-level view:
Dinner that night was the best of the trip, at the Hernschlosschen restaurant (part of a hotel). Popcorn soup, a perfectly (not) cooked steak, and truffle fries with actual shavings of truffle. The dream, basically.
And with the perfect meal, my road trip came to an end. Though I didn’t get to see everything I wanted to, I did thoroughly enjoy all that I saw. And just the road trip itself was an accomplishment for me. I travel by myself frequently, but there are still many things I’ve been hesitant to do solo–renting a car in a foreign country was one of them. As this trip progresses, I’m slowly expanding the boundaries of my comfort zone.
When I started researching things to do in Berlin, I was awestruck by the number of museums. I haven’t done the tallies, but it rivals (possibly surpasses?) New York in terms of sheer quantity. My mom came to visit last week, and since she’s an art historian, we decided to tackle as many as we could.
If you want to do the same, I highly recommend the Museum Pass–29 Euro for 30 state museums in three days. Yep, challenge extended. It doesn’t cover everything, which I’ll explain below, but it’s worth the cost if you want to museum hop.
Hamburger Bahnhof focuses on contemporary art, and it was my favorite museum we visited. My love for it started when we walked up; I adore the contemporary light installation on the exterior that contrasts with the traditional building. It has a permanent collection that includes Warhol’s absolutely massive Mao, as well as works by Rauschenberg, Lichtenstein, Joseph Beuys, and Anselm Kiefer.
It also houses many temporary contemporary art exhibitions. I’ll be honest–a lot of contemporary art leaves me cold. One exhibit consisted of a room with multiple wooden crates, and that sort of thing always makes me feel like Tom Hanks in Big: “I don’t get it.” But there were a couple of absolutely beautiful exhibits as well. In one, you walked downstairs into a dim room with a piano and fake snow covering the ground. Snow fell on you as you entered, and on one wall was a lovely animated film with a girl playing the piano in a room with snow.
The exhibit I most enjoyed, pictured on the right, was a dark room with benches against one wall where you could sit. A tiny bed was illuminated, and multiple projectors shot questions onto the walls in different languages, like the thoughts you have as you try to fall asleep, by turns funny and thought-provoking.
Museum Island
The best known collection of museums in Berlin is gathered on “Museum Island.” It consists of five museums: the Altes Museum, Neues Museum (not to be confused with the currently closed Neue Nationalgalerie), the Alte Nationalgalerie (anyone else think Berlin needs some new museum names?), the Bode-Museum, and the Pergamon. A sixth museum will join in 2019.
On a practical note, there is an 18 Euro pass that covers all of these museums, so if you have just a couple days in Berlin, that might be a good idea. But if you want to visit my fave Hamburger Bahnhof, too, then spring for the Museum Pass.
The Pergamon is Berlin’s most popular museum, and it has the lines to prove it. Buy a timed entry ticket to avoid a lengthy wait. (*Protip*: If you buy the Museum Pass, you can get a free timed ticket using the “Pergamonmuseum frei: übrige” option.” That took me half an hour or so of Googling to sort out; it’s not at all intuitive.)
The two most famous displays in this museum are the Pergamon Altar, which is currently being refurbished, and the Ishtar Gate, which is truly stunning. The Ishtar Gate was the eighth gate to Babylon, constructed in 575 BCE. It towers over you, filling the room, and it’s gorgeous, covered in a lapis lazuli mosaic. Don’t hate me, but I don’t have a picture for you–to me, it’s something best experienced in person. I appreciated it more standing in front of it, contemplating an ancient civilization, than I ever could from the bare fact of its appearance.
Our other Museum Island stop focused on romantic and Impressionist painting–more of the former than the latter. There are several works by artists you’ll recognize; I particularly enjoyed the “another mansplainer” expression on the woman in the Manet on the left. But the bulk of the pieces were by German artists with whom even my mom was unfamiliar–I think this is one of the joys of visiting museums in different countries, but you may disagree.
We didn’t visit the other three Museum Island spots. I’m sure they’re lovely, but they just don’t contain works in which we’re particularly interested. The Bode-Museum features coins, Byzantine art, and sculptures; the Altes Museumhas antiquities; and the Neues Museum has Egyptian and early history work, including the bust of Nefertiti.
Whether or not you love art, though, you should stroll through Museum Island; the buildings themselves are lovely, including the Bode-Museum at right.
Kulturforum
Another set of museums is clustered into the Kulturforum, but unfortunately, we didn’t make it there. One of the main attractions, the modern art-focused Neue Nationalgalerie, is closed for refurbishment until 2019, so the only museum that really tempted us was the Gemäldegalerie, which houses old masters like Caravaggio. The other offerings, such as the Musical Instrument Museum, were much lower on our arts and culture wish list. Once the Neue Nationalgalerie is reopen, though, I’d definitely prioritize this complex.
Charlottenburg
The final museum cluster sits around Schloss Charlottenburg, which, while lovely (see left), unfortunately isn’t covered by the Museum Pass. Mom and I aren’t so into furnishings, so we decided to pass. Nearby, though, are the Scharf-Gerstenberg Collection, featuring works by Dali and Goya among others; the Berggruen Museum, with Picasso, Klee, and more; and the Bröhan-Museum, housing art nouveau and deco arts and crafts. While I’m sure we would have enjoyed all three museums, we visited on the afternoon of our last day, completely exhausted, and only made it into the Scharf-Gestenberg–and to be totally honest, we didn’t even make it up the stairs there.
There are a number of smaller museums scattered around the city to visit as well, featuring everything from design to sculpture to photography; you can find a complete list here. We did visit the tiny Bauhaus-Archiv. With just two rooms, we only spent a brief 20 minutes there, but there’s a nice gift shop and cafe.
And the Museum Pass collection extends beyond art. Before Mom arrived, I visited the Museum für Naturkunde, or Natural History Museum. You might find it a bit small, particularly if you’ve been to New York’s Natural History Museum. But I have a not-so-mild T. rex fascination, and they have Tristan, the third-most complete skeleton in the world.
History Museums
There are also a number of museums in Berlin focused on the history of the city. We visited two of them that aren’t part of the Museum Pass but are well worth a visit.
The Mauermuseum at Checkpoint Charlie tells the story of the wall and the people who attempted escape from East Germany–in everything from specially remodeled cars to a hot air balloon. It has the most information I’ve ever seen in a museum; the walls are absolutely covered with placards in different languages. While it’s overwhelming, it’s also extremely informative.
The DDR Museum teaches you about life in East Berlin–and believe it or not, it makes learning about Communism fun. The exhibits are very interactive, with drawers and doors you can pull open and full reconstructions of rooms, ranging from a kindergarten to a prison cell, that you can go inside.
WHEW. That’s it for my museum roundup. You could easily spend all your time in Berlin going from one to the next, but there’s so much else in the city beyond the museum walls. Stay tuned…
Most of the time on this blog, I’m extolling the wonders of some place or another, adding another line item to your must-see travel list. But since we all have limited time and money, I think it’s equally important to tell you when something isn’t worth your finite resources–and in my humble opinion, the flea markets of Berlin fall into that category.
Let me just say upfront that not everyone would agree with this assessment. Several of my fellow travelers had a grand time on Sunday. So if you’re in Berlin for a long time, go ahead and check it out for yourself. But if you’re just here for a long weekend, I’d pass. And if you’re hoping to find antique or vintage gems, I’d definitely pass.
I was super excited to flea market hop on Sunday; it’s one of my favorite pastimes. I managed to hit three of the many, many markets Berlin hosts. For comprehensive lists, check here or here. But I’ll be the first to admit that I have high standards for flea markets. My grandparents owned an antique shop, and my biological dad spent years buying antiques at auctions and selling them at flea markets, so I know a thing or two about quality merch. I’ve visited markets all over the world, and they’re not created equal. Two of my favorites are in Florence and Buenos Aires; Madrid is mostly junk.
So on Sunday, I visited the most well-known market at Mauerpark, the Antique and Book Market near the Bode Museum, and the monthly Nowkoelln Flowmarkt, since it takes place in my neighborhood.
1. Mauerpark
This is the best-known market in Berlin, featured prominently in the guidebooks–which you could see many attendees clutching. If all you want is to while away an afternoon, eating some street food and enjoying colorful characters, then the market is worth a visit. There’s a large open park next to the stalls where they have outdoor karaoke in the afternoon, the food stalls are plentiful, and there’s amusement to be had everywhere, from observing the hipsters crowding the “Haha You’re Ugly” clothing booth (that’s what it’s really called; I’m not being mean), who are trying on neon windbreakers from the early 90s, to listening…running away from…the man playing a tuba who has no fucking idea how to play a tuba.
But, as previously established, I’m a flea market snob. If I were living in Berlin permanently, I could see myself giving this place a browse–there were a couple nice pieces of furniture here and there, several booths that had English language books, and many booths selling vinyl, if you do that. But a lot of the booths felt either generic (the same tote bags, meh jewelry, and prints of photos you could easily take yourself that you see at a lot of these markets) or just really low quality (so much crappy clothing). There were very few booths with genuinely interesting merchandise thoughtfully displayed. Instead, several booths had masses of people digging through bins of junk (see above photo!) or featured stuff that no sane person would want (see right).
A few Roamers happily spent the afternoon here, hanging out and watching the karaoke and such. I did a fairly quick lap and headed to the next stop on my hop.
2. Antique and Book Market
As you can see from the photo, this market was delightfully less crowded than Mauerpark. Of course, it was also much smaller, with just two rows of stands lining a single street. The quality was much higher, but unfortunately I didn’t find what I was looking for. I collect antique teapots, and while there were many teacups, a couple of nice sets, and one very adorable sugar pot, there wasn’t a teapot to be found. (I make it hard on purpose, though–if they were lying around everywhere, my home would be overrun.) And while I HIGHLY recommend this market if you can read German, there weren’t any English language books on offer–understandable, but disappointing nevertheless.
3. Nowkoelln Flowmarkt
To be honest, I could tell just from the market’s name that this was probably going to be a mess, but since it’s in my adopted Neukolln neighborhood and only takes place once a month, I decided to check it out. I don’t even have a photo of this one because it was so ridiculously packed. They have booths set up on either side of a sidewalk, so there’s not room to stop and browse; you just have to shuffle along with the stream. But no matter because I didn’t see anything I wanted to stop for–one “booth,” for instance, consisted of four battered handbags and two old trumpets.
To be fair, though, the giant pans of paella looked amazing–grab a plate of that, sit by the river to enjoy it, and ignore the frenzy around used t-shirts.
So to sum up, you should visit the Berlin flea markets if you:
Read German.
Live here and would like to brave the crowds in the hopes of finding a cute end table or augmenting your vinyl collection.
Want to eat some street food.
Enjoy bad karaoke.
Aside from that, feel free to do something else with your Berlin Sunday–stay tuned for more tips on that front. (And speaking of tips, have you signed up for my newsletter yet? You can do that in the sidebar for more suggestions, anecdotes, photos, and fun facts about the places I visit.)
Because you can’t have all that savory without a little sweet, we then made our way to Crna Ovca, an ice cream parlor with inventive flavors. I was tempted by a combo of sesame coffee with chocolate covered coffee beans and peanut butter with milk chocolate covered pretzels, but I’ll have to go back for that. With many, many courses sitting in my belly, I opted for the somewhat lighter combination of lemon basil and stracciatella with star anise.
tality is phenomenal. From servers to chefs to our lovely guide, Uros, everyone was warm and welcoming—as evidenced by our (unnecessary and unexpected but so lovely and appreciated) parting gifts, wooden spoons with our names in Cyrillic burned into the handles. My name hardly makes sense in Serbian—with the way their letters are pronounced, it’s more like Yenneefer), but I’m happy to have something by which to remember a wonderful evening.
Yet Split is undeniably beautiful. While it shares some unfortunate Communist bloc architecture with Berlin and Belgrade, the ancient beauty of the old town with Diocletian’s Palace and the natural beauty of the coast shine through. 
truly do feel like you’re entering an ancient castle. We were instantly charmed. 
e started with scallops covered in flakes of black truffle, then had sea bass and tuna. The portions are relatively small, but the flavors are excellent. With dessert, we tried two of their signature cocktails. Our waiter served my whiskey-based drink in a teapot, and I was very. very. happy. 
Though Mostar was full of tourists, the country is in the early stages of tourism. You can still see some of the ruins from the war around town, and our guide was generally pessimistic about their recovery. I bought a few books to help me better understand, but I’m glad I was able to visit in person to gain some context. And I love these guided tours for solo travelers; it would have been difficult to replicate this experience on my own.
We stopped for dinner on the way home at the perfect roadside country restaurant, where they specialize in meat on a spit. I’m fully carnivorous, and I was practically jumping up and down with excitement when I got out of the car and saw the fire pit. The lamb was fantastic, as was the bottle of Evan’s favorite Croatian red. Basically, if he’d just taken me to a bookstore, too, it would have been Jennifer’s Dream Date.
After a few hours of walking (and bussing and subwaying; Alternative Berlin keeps it local), we headed to the artists’ warehouse in far East Berlin to create our own works. They had hundreds of stencils for us to choose from, which we cut out, and then they showed us a few different spray paint techniques to use on our canvases. My mom and I both had so much fun designing our pieces. 
Where to Eat Breakfast or Brunch
Where to Eat a Fancy Dinner
I started off with a visit to a small museum. Bremen houses the first museum dedicated to the work of a female painter, the 
I wandered back through the main square and snapped the obligatory pic of the Bremen Town Musicians statue. I kept wandering into the less pretty, but more functional, part of town, and since I had a little time to kill before dinner, I read on the grass for a while beneath the 
The Grimmwelt is a museum dedicated to the Brothers Grimm, and it’s nearly as magical as the stories. The building itself is lovely, as you can see, and they have exhibits set up from Z-A, many of which are interactive. In addition to seeing some old documents and household objects, you can talk to a magic mirror on the wall and walk through a forest of trees that whisper at you. 
and through a narrow walkway on the walls themselves for a rooftop-level view:
uple of absolutely beautiful exhibits as well. In one, you walked downstairs into a dim room with a piano and fake snow covering the ground. Snow fell on you as you entered, and on one wall was a lovely animated film with a girl playing the piano in a room with snow.
Our other Museum Island stop focused on romantic and Impressionist painting–more of the former than the latter. There are several works by artists you’ll recognize; I particularly enjoyed the “another mansplainer” expression on the woman in the Manet on the left. But the bulk of the pieces were by German artists with whom even my mom was unfamiliar–I think this is one of the joys of visiting museums in different countries, but you may disagree. 
has antiquities; and the 
The final museum cluster sits around 
there, several booths that had English language books, and many booths selling vinyl, if you do that. But a lot of the booths felt either generic (the same tote bags, meh jewelry, and prints of photos you could easily take yourself that you see at a lot of these markets) or just really low quality (so much crappy clothing). There were very few booths with genuinely interesting merchandise thoughtfully displayed. Instead, several booths had masses of people digging through bins of junk (see above photo!) or featured stuff that no sane person would want (see right). 
