Reb Stevenson went to (fill in the blank) and all I got was this lousy souvenir column!



Click on the souvenirs to find out where they’re from and why they’re special.

It was a foggy, sleepy Sunday morning in Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada. The dead outnumbered the living - at least in the Old Burying Ground. I spent the morning wandering around downtown, thinking about my grandma who grew up here and never stopped reminiscing about the days on Princess Street. She had red ringlets and doughy dimples and said “oh my land” instead of anything even resembling a swear. Have you ever visited a place with family significance? You ought to. Perhaps memories of a place are embedded in our DNA...RIP Grandma Starr, 1916-2008.

BY REB STEVENSON

I’m busy seeking shade in Anguilla. Thought I’d quickly drop by the website to share this picture I shot of some friendly local school children!

• Do it in Europe – the roads are smaller and the drivers are respectful. For people who like great food and wine, I recommend Burgundy. People who want harder biking might try Tuscany.
• Say no to spandex – Nobody looks good in lycra. Wear mountain bike shorts that have a pad. They look better and they have pockets.

And while we’re at it, here’s a sneak peak from an upcoming video/column on The Jane, an awesome and affordable hotel in NYC!

Hey everyone! I’m happy to report that within just five hours of landing in Aruba, I heard Kokomo played on a steel drum. What I’m sayin’ is: this place really delivers.
All my ’80s dreams of bright colours and cheesy songs about living recklessly on tropical islands are coming to life. Thus, I am allowing myself to write in this bold turquoise font.
More to tell you in the coming days...stay tuned!

This year, I’ve had the opportunity to experience LOTS of fine dining in various countries. And eating rich, cream-smeared, foie-gras injected foods day after day is great - especially if you want to be a contestant on the next Biggest Loser. Seriously...this is one of my major travel pet-peeves. I’m all for indulgence, just not for a week straight.
That’s why I was delighted to discover FOUR - a restaurant in downtown Toronto where all the dishes weigh in at under 650 calories.
Is it called FOUR because they only use lettuce, celery, water and aspartame? I wondered that myself. The answer is...(drumroll) no. Actually, I don’t know the real answer. And lets not ruin the mystery by finding out.

Calling this music “cool” would be a massive understatement. The tunes emanating from the new Crystal Grotto at Colorado’s Beaver Creek Resort are downright frozen. From now until April 4, the mid—mountain ice cave-cum-concert hall will feature chilling tunes played on whimsical hand-carved acoustic ice instruments, including a violin, cello, viola, guitar, fretless bass, xylophone, rolandophone, mandolin, banjo and drums.

After two nights in room 217 at The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park (The Stephen King Suite), I was very pleased to slip between the sheets at the un-haunted Armstrong Hotel in Fort Collins, Colorado. I’m loving the art deco theme (see their website, I’m a big fan of the design) and fresh colours that liven up this boutique property in the heart of the old town!

Shot today at The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, where I am working on my 5th Sleeping Around column. Want to play with me?

Just landed in Denver, Colorado, where I will be visiting the hotel that inspired The Shining! Had to get up before 4am this morning (ew), but on the bright side, the sunrise over the rockies was AMAZING (mmm!). Had to share this cliched “over wing” shot with you!

The Toronto Star recently asked me to submit my “Best Travel Experience of 2009.” Read my pick HERE. But, really, this was only one of many amazing adventures that I had the great fortune to experience last year. Stay tuned for my 2009 travel awards (no actual statues awarded), coming to this blog within the next couple of days!

A few weeks ago, my little brother Jacob announced that he was going to light up the Christmas table with a disgusting “Holiday Mullet.”
(Cue communal groan from the family).

While perusing the dairy fridge at the store the other day, it occurred me to that egg nog is pretty much French Toast without the bread. So I decided to invent this extra special holiday recipe just for you folks!

With a fork, blend the following in a shallow dish:
- Two eggs
- One cup egg nog, in all its fatty, creamy glory
- One teaspoon vanilla extract
- Pinch cinnamon
- Pinch nutmeg

Dip thick slices of Challah Bread into this glorious mixture (French Toast is ALWAYS better with challah, a braided Jewish egg bread. I made my own for this project, but you might be able to find some in your grocery store. If not, opt for thick-cut white bread.)

Fry in REAL BUTTER (cannot stress enough, shun the margarine for the love of god!) until golden.

Serve with a spiced cranberry sauce. For mine, I boiled a cup of fresh cranberries, 1/4 cup raisins, 1/2 cup sugar, pinch cinnamon, pinch nutmeg and a dash of spiced rum until the cranberries broke down and it seemed to be a saucy texture.

Garnish with coconut and fresh mint for that Christmassy look! And don’t forget to serve with real maple syrup...even if you’re American.

Makes about 5-6 pieces.

Last year around this time, my dad Jack started exhibiting some bizarre behaviour. Whenever he had a spare second, he would obsessively watch instructional dancing DVD’s as though they were a combination of cocaine and porn. Sometimes, when I got up in the morning, there he was, dancing on the spot in the living room. He might have been there all night. I’m not sure.
Now, my dad has had many obsessions over the years - guitar, baseball, apple orcharding, chemistry, Mac computers, cashews...- but this once seems to be enduring. Flash forward one year and he is still taking multiple dance lessons every week.

For years now, I’ve been meaning to check out the annual Festival of Trees at Victoria’s ivy-clad stalwart hotel, The Empress. Mostly because I heard it was free. Today that dream was realized.
It’s actually a charity fundraiser - you spend $2 to cast a ballot for your favourite tree and the proceeds go to the BC Children’s Hospital. The trees have all been decorated by various organizations and businesses.

Two other trees worth noting:
1. Not since the Michael Keaton seasonal family flick Jack Frost has a snowman seemed so freaky and inhuman: yes, meet the Twilight tree.
2. You should have seen the looks of heavenly delight that lit up the kiddies’ faces when they saw this tree festooned with realtors’ business cards. Binab, Desmond, etc: you guys sure know how to keep Christmas commercialism at bay. Thank you for your festive gift to mankind.

Sorry I’ve been lax on the Christmas posts over the last few days, but I wanted to let you know (brace for excuse) that I’ve been busy filming my fourth SLEEPING AROUND segment here at the loverly Sooke Harbour House near Victoria, British Columbia. It’s going to be a winner! And I promise the video will be far better than my totem impression, right!
Back soon with some cool xmas recipes and such. How are your holidays going (please make my day and comment below)?

Keep checking back here throughout the holidays for more Christmas frivolity!
And if you haven’t seen my latest video yet, you can still do so HERE!

Upon the big day itself, the English tend to eat “Christmas Lunch” in the afternoon. Sometimes the main course is even goose (Dickens-approved).

Admittedly, we girls have PMS, say cryptic things and expect men to read our minds about 90 per cent of the time. But you know what, guys? YOU are hard to shop for.
So there!!!!!!!!!!!!
Luckily, there’s this awesome website called www.thinkgeek.com that offers all kinds of funky gifts for the omnipresent male inner child. I get an extra large kick out of their set of interactive t-shirts, such as the Personal Speaker Shirt, WiFi Detector Shirt and the (all-new) Electronic Rock Guitar Shirt. Battery powered? Yes. Hilarious? Yes. Annoying? You know it.
But after looking at these, how can you possibly give soap on a rope again?

• Well, one of Kath’s huge passions is oatmeal (see her instructional video, left), and last year she concocted a rather creative version of her fave breakfast for a contest. She has agreed to share it with y’all on my blog today.

• ¾ cup Quaker Old Fashioned oatmeal (heart-healthy serving)
• 1 ¼ cups water
• ¼ cup Silk Soy Milk Egg Nog
  
• 1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1 tsp (about 4 grams) crushed candy cane
• 1 tsp (about 7 grams) chopped walnuts, toasted in a dry skillet if desired
• 1 tsp powdered sugar

• Crush candy cane in a zip top bag with a heavy pot, mallet, or rolling pin
• Combine oats, water and Silk Nog in a non-stick pot and set heat to medium.
• When oatmeal begins to thicken, begin to whip vigorously with a spatula, allowing the starch to be released.
• Continue whipping oats until reaching desired thickness, about 5 minutes.
• Stir in nutmeg.
• Pour oatmeal into bowl and top with crushed candy cane and walnuts.
• Dust with powdered sugar.
• Enjoy!

Most importantly, I want to hear from you! Got a favourite holiday recipe, craft or tradition you’d like to share? Just email me a photo of yourself with said cake/wreath/game of naked holiday twister along with the instructions and I’ll post it here!
As Emilio Estevez uttered in Young Guns: “I’ll make you famous.”
(Of course, then he shot the person. I wouldn’t do that, not at Christmas.)
To kick things off, I offer you this look at HOLIDAY DESSERTS FROM EUROPE, a little story I penned for aol.ca.

~Hark, what is yon sound? 'Tis the sweet tooth singing "Hallelujah!" For between the sugar plums, the candy canes, the gingerbread and the chocolate oranges, Christmas is a veritable blizzard of granulated sugar. Looking for some new ideas to enliven your table this year? Try some old ones. Check out our gallery of traditional European holiday desserts.~

(Click this link for descriptions and recipes from England, Italy, France, Spain, Germany and Denmark!)

Screw political correctness: on my recent solo road trip through Arizona (story coming soon to The Toronto Star), one of the highlights was The Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, AZ.
The adorable concrete and steel tents, built in 1950 on a stretch of old Route 66, rent for under $60 US per night. Interiors feature the original wood furnishings and a surprisingly understated native theme. Outside, classic cars evoke the days of cowboys n’ Indians on TV and wholesome family vacations.
www.galerie-kokopelli.com/wigwam

Sleeping Around #1: Berlin is HERE.

CRUNCH! CRACK! CREAK!
The forest has its own voice, you see. It tells you this: there is most certainly a hungry wolf lurking around the next tree. Or, if not a wolf, it’s a big fat Wildschwein that smells pork sausage on your breath and wants to avenge his cousins. No - it’s a cursed woodsman who hasn’t seen a woman for a hundred years, and boy oh boy is he ever “amorous.”
(Let us keep this blog PG rated).
Moreover, the forest reveals this secret: out of fear, humans walking alone through the woods develop wild imaginations - so wild, they start inventing stories that aren’t true. You might even call them fairy tales.

I met the Pied Piper in Hamelin today. Turns out he’s from Philadelphia. But he’d really stick out in those shoes there, wouldn’t he? I think Hamelin’s a better fit.

German may well be related to English, but when you are already hangry* and receive a menu that contains about 900% more letters than you are used to, those shared linguistic roots aren’t enough to get you fed.
I’ve been travelling in the North of Germany for five days now and have come to the conclusion that English is as scarce as green vegetables ‘round here.
Now, when you go to Germany, a dozen or so know-it-alls will probably say: “don’t worry, they speak English better than Americans.” Little do you know, your sources probably WERE talking to Americans, but were so drunk** they mistook them for Germans.
In any case, I strongly urge you to bring a phrasebook. Conveying “just a minute” with your index finger and flipping through numerous pages in order to find the translation for “one” is character building. Especially when you realize that you were ALREADY expressing “one” with that very finger.

Failing that, here’s a list of some phrases you might find useful:
Hello. Hallo.
I don’t speak German. Ich spreche kein Deutch.
Do you speak English? Sprechen sie Englisch?
Yes!? Ja!? Thaaaank you. Daaaaanke.
Which way is a public toilet? In welcher richtung ist eine offentliche toilette?
I have diarrhea. Ich habe durchfall.
Seriously man, don’t look at me with that confused face we have approximately six seconds here. (Just go pale and flail arms wildly).
.......
I had an accident. Ich hatte einen unfall.
Sorry. Entshuldigung.
Goodbye. Auf wiedersehen.

*so hungry you’re prone to angry outbursts, especially when debating directions or walking really, really far.
**Oktoberfest, naturally.

...because we all know it’s the petty details - not security or landing gear maintenance - that matter.

Also, while we’re talking overnight flights, I’d like to make a few observations:

1) When you get up from your seat for a comfort break, DO NOT use the seat in front of you as a railing with which to steady yourself. There is usually a person trying to sleep in said seat - a person who will not appreciate the man-made turbulence.

2) Dear Lufthansa: maybe, just maybe, you could remove those ashtrays instead of leaving them as a terrifying reminder that we’re flying on a vintage plane. You build flying metal birds. I think you have the technology to bust out a screwdriver and get rid of those suckas.

3) Dear Luddites: when you encounter a touch-screen entertainment system, freaking out and spastically hitting the screen over and over will not make Angels and Demons start to play.

4) Dear Lufthansa: Hi..it’s me again. Sorry, I forget something. While you’ve got the screwdriver out, maybe you could look at making muzzles for babies who feel the need to air all their pent-up grievances between takeoff and landing (I’ve seen them in customs afterwards, all dimples and coos...I’m onto them). Oh, sorry, am I being heartless? Maybe we could stow them in the overhead bins instead. Give ‘em a blanket and a pillow or something. See? I care.

By Reb Stevenson
Finding a restaurant while travelling is a lot like lookin’ for love.
a)     You want something you can brag about.
b)    You don’t want to think that too many people have been there before you.
Vancouver boasts schools of fancy fish restaurants, where fillets are stacked just so atop rare root vegetables and drizzled with some sort of reduction or foam. And while these high maintenance lovelies are nice to look at, they’re not the charming down-home locals that you could be meeting.
Here are five independent Vancouver restaurants that are delicious, unusual and off the beaten path.

By Reb Stevenson
Swine flu: when it broke back in April, I was in the eye of the storm. The heart of the action. The centre of the burrito.
Mexico.
My group of Canadian travel journalists was calmly taken aside by a Mexican Tourist Board representative and given a debriefing that began with something to the effect of: “now don’t freak out, but…”
At that point, though, the severity of the virus hadn’t hit home. Most of my companions’ health concerns centred around treating today’s tequila hangover and acquiring tomorrow’s.
A few days later, we connected through Mexico City’s airport and – bam – the panic response kicked in. That’s what happens when one in three people are wearing surgical masks and your breathing holes are naked.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU Porter Air, for being the last airline in Canada to provide free food to customers. Sure, it’s just half a boring sandwich, arid Melba Toast and a wee Babybel, but it’s appreciated, as is the classy glassware.
From Toronto, Porter now flies to Ottawa, Quebec City, Montreal, Halifax, Thunder Bay, St. John’s, Boston, Chicago and New York. So if you don’t feel like blowing $8 on a roast beef wrap that looks like it’s been trampled in a stampede, consider flying Porter.

Normally, I turn my nose up at sunset pictures (too typical, bad eye-to-camera translation), but I couldn’t resist this dramatic sunset scene last month when I was travelling on The Clipper ferry between Victoria, B.C., Canada and Seattle,Washington, USA. The air was thick with grey storm clouds but somehow the sun managed to peek out before retiring into the horizon.

Former boom town is a rootin' tootin' hoot with a touch of tacky and a bonanza of colourful characters
BY REB STEVENSON
VIRGINIA CITY, NEVADA–The Ponderosa Mine is already feeling a bit cramped.
Mainly because ... um, it's a mine. And those don't come in any size but extra small. To boot, a dozen other people are crammed in it.
Then, without warning, guide Mark Lonero blows out the only candle.
"Now that is total darkness," he declares.
I want to squeal and cling to the male next to me. Mind you, he's 7-years-old and that might set off the world's next mine disaster.
It's these very blips of gritty realism that elevate Northern Nevada's Virginia City from a tacky Old West anachronism to an absolute gem of a place – a lost world in which steam locomotives, loveable town whores and dishonest-to-goodness saloons are part of everyday life.

Being of the somewhat shallow opinion that taking a ride on any unusual type of transportation automatically makes an attraction worthwhile, a couple of weeks ago I eagerly hopped aboard The Tahoe Queen paddlewheeler for a 2.5 hour cruise.

By Reb Stevenson
Move over Algonquin Park, there's a new destination for happy campers in Ontario: downtown Toronto!
(Cue chorus of laughter from tents everywhere.)

To anybody who pooh-poohs England on a regular basis, citing overcast skies and drizzly days, I offer this: the delightful, magical place in Lewes, East Sussex known as Southover Grange. The grounds of this circa 1572 mansion are now a glorious public garden that explodes with colour every spring. I shot this view today while I caught up with my English friend Kat in the park. We watched children happily darting about the lawn without a care in the world. It was amazing to think that kids had probably been doing just that for some 400 years!
Note the manor house on the left and Lewes Castle up in the right hand corner. Oh - and the bored teens, who probably suffer from the universal affliction of not appreciating anything at all. It’s ok, I have enough of it to cover them.

Tonight I’m staying in Edinburgh’s brand new Hotel Missoni, which just opened last week. It’s all funky and colourful and super stylish - quite the contrast from the drab grey architecture outside. Couldn’t resist this shot in the elevator. And yes, someone walked in while I was lying on the floor. Of course.
www.hotelmissoni.com

There’s got to be an easier way to word this, methinks...
Kebab shop in Glasgow, Scotland

I was strolling through East London (a.k.a. Jack the Rippersville) yesterday and couldn’t believe my eyes when I spied this chap who looked like he had walked into a London fog some time around 1892 and emerged from it in 2009. Wearing this retro outfit, he was standing in front of an old fashioned store organizing old books.
Was he a ghost? A jet-lag induced hallucination? An extra in a new Sherlock Holmes made-for-TV movie? No, he was Andrew Coram, owner of Beedell Coram Antiques (86a Commercial Street), which is probably more photogenic than it is shoppable.
I had a peek inside but couldn’t get much further than the front door as junk threatened to eat me alive from the feet up. Everything from loose film to portraits of dour Englishmen was haphazardly stacked every which way. So instead I settled upon simply talking to Andrew, who was just as eccentric as I had hoped. What else do you expect from a person who plucks a dirty bowler hat from a trashcan and wears it with such effortless panache?

The classic double-decker bus drove right past the hordes of tourists and parked itself right there in Buckingham Palace’s front yard. I realize that might seem kind of redneckish. But hey, we’re talking about London’s fanciest home here.
Off the bus clomped a crew of travel journalists, most of whom are not accustomed to wearing heels (myself included).
For two hours only, we were part of the royal court, invited to a special reception with Prince Philip (that bloke who shagged Queen Elizabeth and created the quotable wonder that is Prince Charles) upon the occasion of his 88th birthday.
I was initially excited by the exclusive invitation. Then my thoughts turned to red-light blinking, siren shrieking, run-for-cover terror, as I remembered that, as a travel journalist, I possess the bank account of a travel journalist. My Balenciaga was somewhere around, oh, let’s see...(converting to British pounds here)...ZERO.
However, England’s wealth of cheap and fashionable clothing stores became this Cinderella’s fairy godmother. Some careful hunting produced this outfit, which rang in under $100. In other news, I’m relieved to report I was not arrested by the Buckingham fashion police.
Here’s a breakdown:
Dress, H&M: $40
Sweater, New Look: $30
Hat, Primark: $12
For more on my visit with The Duke of Edinburgh, stay tuned for an upcoming video...

Bald? It prescribes “Take three frogs, fry them alive in a pot and apply to your head.” (Thinking I might have to patent this formula, if only so I can brand it FROGAINE).

LOS ANGELES–Los Angeles is like its own surreal theme park.
There's valet parking at the iHop. Surgical procedures are advertised as casually as haircuts. Pedestrian? What's that? Is it a new SUV model? It's amusing, there's no doubt about it. But if you're not the type who shoots Botox for breakfast, all of the above can leave you spinning.
Good news: the escape route to nature is closer than you think. The next time you're in L.A. and gasping for air, leave the smoggy circus behind for the day and start rolling up the coast.
Read on HERE...

You know The Girlfriend Getaway, it goes something like this: shopping, pedicures, male bashing, tapas.
Yet we rarely hear about the masculine equivalent unless it’s a beer-fuelled pilgrimage to a sporting event. And while awakening to find a reeking buddy spooning you in a Motel 6 queen bed might be construed as “bonding,” there are classier routes to solidifying friendships between dudes.
Call it testosteroaming – the art of vacationing with platonic male friends.

In a decorating move that’s both English and edgy, dozens of teacups dangle from the ceiling in the restaurant.

I do love a thematic hotel, and The Jane - which unveiled the first batch of its renovated rooms last summer - is a delightful combination of novelty and practicality. Built in 1908 by architect William A. Boring (go on, laugh), The Jane is taking inspiration from its own origins as a hotel for sailors. The rooms are tiny, like cabins on a ship, and have a pretty creepy vibe to them. Is that “My Heart Will Go On” playing in my mental jukebox?The only way I could even photograph the coffin-sized room was via the mirror.

You might think I’m just making a cheap link between an Edwardian nautical hotel and that famous sinking...and trust me, I would make a cheap link...but in this case there a real connection: the survivors of The Titanic stayed here in 1912 until the American inquiry into the sinking was wrapped up.

Amenities at the Portland, Maine airport include soda machines, phones and rocking chairs. Seats on the planes are still uncomfortable, though.