Only three weeks late with that new year’s resolution

hbgh scale

So it’s been a month of traveling and eating. (No new year’s resolution for me; I never keep them.) Lots of walking, but not enough to offset the tidal wave of calories.

I was passing through my local airport and thought I’d better get a reality check on this old-fashioned scale.  For me, this is weigh too much. No, that stint at The Biggest Loser Resort didn’t last. Surprise. I’ve joined Weight Watchers online and now have to record everything I consume. Only way I’ve found to keep myself accountable these days.

About that old-fashioned scale. It fits right in to with the airport, which is in Harrisburg, Pa. In a part of the Keystone State called  the T — everything that’s not Philadelphia or Pittsburgh territory. James Carville once compared it to Alabama. About right.

MDT — as this airport is known in aviation parlance — boasts a Starbucks. But the sound system hearkens back to the debut of Mr. Coffee. A great place to sing along to Three Dog Night, and other red-hot groups. If this were the middle of the last century.

If you’re interested in visiting, Harrisburg is a gateway to Amish Country, and you’ll find the handicrafts mixed in with the Hershey chocolate — another big local name — at the souvenir shop …

hbgh quilthbghcivil2

… and the Gettysburg battlefield.

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Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and Christmas season, in Ireland

Feel like a turkey doing the same thing every Thanksgiving? Here’s some food for thought: Go elsewhere next year.

For a radical change of pace, we left the country. For about twice as much as it would cost to fly to visit relatives in North Carolina, we decided to go to Dublin, Ireland, for the long holiday weekend. Said relatives were not offended.

Dublin was a part of Europe that was relatively easy to get to from our perch on the east coast of the U.S. Subtracting two days for travel left us with three full days to see what we could see.

After snow toyed with our departing overnight flight and our nerves, we made it there Thanksgiving morning. Extremely sleep deprived and cranky because our seats didn’t recline, and the seat backs were minus movie screens. That U.S. Airways – American Airlines merger seems to be working out well. Not. But that’s a story for another day.

Day 1: Bleary, collapse into a nap at the home of Hans and Deirdre Geisler, courtesy of Airbnb. They have grown children and a fabulous place within walking distance of downtown Dublin to themselves, a historic townhouse straight out of House Beautiful. With the proverbial wood floors you could eat turkey and stuffing off of. In the bathroom, no less.

dublin bathroom1


 I discover the candles scattered around the house are for more than show. Hans, a meticulous and caring sort, makes it his business to light them every morning. He says it gives each day purpose. I like that.

A caressing shower with carrageenan moss soap — made from Irish seaweed — gently revives me. Armed with maps and a crash-course in Dublin neighborhoods from a real local viewpoint, we’re off to find some semblance of Thanksgiving dinner in what’s left of the holiday.

We go in search of what passes for real Irish fare, which means heading down to the tourist area, where they pour it on. A place called Boxty’s doesn’t disappoint.

thanksgiving dinner2


We go all out, ordering Irish stew and corned beef and cabbage. With a side of the most decadent mashed potatoes I’ve ever had. So wonderfully good you know they’re wickedly bad. Topped off with so-so chocolate cake and ice cream.

Not the usual, but still, we stuck to tradition. The tradition of feeling like beached whales by the time we were done.

We walk off some of the spuds.

dublin gaelic decorations

It might not have been Thanksgiving here, but Christmas season had definitely begun. Downtown was adorned with decorations in Irish Gaelic, which I’m told is still taught in schools.

Then it was off to Dublin’s famed Abbey Theatre, sort of the equivalent of the city’s Broadway. A  big part of Ireland’s personality that I’d read about in Leon Uris’ Trinity.

(I’ll admit everything I knew about Ireland was based on that over-the-top novel that romanticized every little thing about the nation’s history. Most of it focused on the bloody struggle to break away from Britain.)

dublin abbey

Turns out the original Abbey burned down in a fire, replaced by what looked like an office building. And the play, which I didn’t realize when I booked it, was  an experimental work relegated to a lesser stage at the Abbey — think way off-Broadway. It was college level theater at best, and I was trying not to nod off.

What kept me awake was, it was still Dublin and The Abbey. With the ghosts of famous playwrights past. I was loving it.

dublin hans

Day 2: Knowing we have but one full day in Dublin, Deirdre and Hans ply us with enough fuel at breakfast to last the entire day: scrambled eggs on toast, scones, fruit, yogurt.

Hans saves us the public transit hassle by dropping us off at the first must-see on our list, especially having read Trinity …

dublin jail easter uprising

.. The Kilmainham Gaol, a museum that was once a notorious prison, home to a cross-section of society from bread thieves to  revolutionaries whose executions sparked the uprisings that hastened Irish independence from Britain.

dublin statue

The rebels linger everywhere in spirit, tucked in between Starbucks and H&M.

dublin jail cell

Anyway, as you’d expect, the gaol cells were sufficiently bleak.

dublin jail cross

This cross marks an execution spot. We’re told one revolutionary leader was allowed to marry just hours before receiving his punishment (bullets strategically aimed at a piece of cloth taped over the heart). Another too weak to stand for his send-off was allowed to sit.

dublin medieval

More walking past lots of cathedrals and such dating back to medieval times.

dublin bagel and lox

Lunch was fairly respectable bagels and lox at the kosher Bretzel Bakery, itself the crumbs that remain of what was once Dublin’s Jewish Quarter – Little Jerusalem.

dublin irish museum

Down the street is the Irish Jewish Museum, which has limited winter hours and was closed when we were there.

dublin irish museum protest

Its expansion in the subject of some controversy, with many neighbors claiming it’s going to change the neighborhood and hurt property values.

From there, off to the James Joyce Centre in the middle of an emerging Asian neighborhood, because how can you go to Dublin and not have an encounter with some of the literary Irish greats?

The place was an attempt to make something big out of not much. It was a strung-out version of his life, with some rooms full of furniture, knickknacks  and some of his books.

I think a better use of the space would be to explain what the heck his books — particularly Ulysses — are all about. I bought a T-shirt to help get me in the mood to write. I’m still waiting…

After endless hours of walking, my body turned on the brakes. Couldn’t go another step.

This just so happened in front of an adorable little ice cream shop: Murphy’s, straight from Dingle, in County Derry. “Dinner,” I told Mitch, dragging him in with me.

dublin ice cream1

Mitch held out for real food. But I was tangled in a web of marketing spiel. When I heard the milk came from rare, indigenous Kerry cows, (even earned a rave from National Geo!) I was a goner. Sorry, National Geo, but basic vanilla and chocolate didn’t do a darn thing for me. I felt so … cowed.

Day 3: On our last day, we hop a train before sunrise to the other side of Ireland — Galway, on the Atlantic Ocean. Touted as a pretty place with lots of personality.

It could have been Amtrak, except the stops were announced in Irish Gaelic and English.

galway train station

galway farmland

I told myself that the countryside, which went by at a crazed clip, looked greener here than home because this was the Emerald Isle. Uh-huh.

Another U.S. tradition followed us: Black Friday. Yep, even though there was no Thanksgiving Thursday. Go figure. Galway, a wee place in comparison to Dublin, was mobbed.

galway protest

They say there’s always something going on in Galway, and there was. A protest over water rates collided with a dancing for cancer benefit.

spanish arch

We snuck off, making our way toward the ocean. On the way was the Spanish Arch, a remnant of the old walled city.

galway wolfe tone


Which also had its brushes with the English crown.

galway ocean


Just beyond is the Claddagh, meaning shore, the part of Galway said to have started out as a fishing village with its own king.

And according to legend, its own logo, which stands for friendship, love and loyalty. Step into any jewelry store there and you’ll find it in abundance.

Christopher Columbus supposedly passed through and prayed at a church that’s been going strong since the Middle Ages. One of the parishioners was a Jane Eyre. Best as I can tell, this Jane didn’t inspire the novel.

galway eating oysters

Back to the present, amazingly fresh raw oysters at one of the neat weekend markets made a fabulous breakfast. Really.

galway boychik donuts

Along with a homemade doughnut from a guy who said he was Jewish and from Manhattan’s Upper West Side. What was he doing there? What else, he asked, in a manner that suggested he wasn’t fibbing about his roots. A relationship.

Next day, back to Philadelphia, barely making the flight. As it turns out, Dublin is one of a handful of airports outside North America that requires U.S. customs and immigration clearance. Saves time back in the states, but means going through security not once but twice.

So if you plan to visit Dublin, be advised: There’s a reason they tell you to be there three hours before the flight back to the U.S. You’ll need all that time.

Onboard, same highly unimpressive plane. But thankfully, our seats were close to the loo. And there were many visits. Overindulgence, no doubt.

Which means it was your typical Thanksgiving weekend. Mission accomplished.

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You don’t have to be George Clooney to marry in Venice

It doesn’t hurt, though, especially since it looks pretty steep, even if you’re not going for the movie-star treatment.

Funny, when I think of dreamy places to tie the knot, Venice, Italy, doesn’t spring to mind.

I guess I’m way in the minority on this, but it just seems so crowded; so problematic; so ordinary for the likes of jet-setters Clooney and his international attorney wife, who could go anywhere.

(Apparently it’s one of Clooney’s favorite hangouts; he has an understandable thing for the Venice Film Festival.)

I confess my my reaction also stems from the vicious case of food poisoning I got there during my junior year abroad in college. Minutes after downing a burger at a bar, it refused to stay put.

So I got hitched in Venice, too — to a toilet. Actually a hole in a tiled floor closeted off from the rest of the bar. With indentations in the tile for better foot placement. No matter. I sank to my knees (mostly because I couldn’t get up), grateful to have it all to myself.

Anyway, the Clooney nuptials apparently are clocking in at around $1.6 million. I have to admit it all looked divine; and at that price, why not?

If you have your heart set on the place for your big day, it’s doable. But, again, not cheap by any means.

You don’t need a three-day Clooney wedding extravaganza, but of course it would be nice to have a few days to sightsee.

No matter when you go, expect to pay over $1,000 round-trip a person from say, New York to Venice. You might be able to shave a bit off by flying to London and then taking a budget flight on Ryanair or easyJet to Italy.

The Hotel Cipriani, where some of the Clooney party stayed, will run you at least $2,500 a night. Thankfully, I’m told you don’t need to stay there to have a meal or a drink.

The Aman Candal Grande Hotel, where the symbolic wedding was held, is $1,000 a night in the off-season.

That was followed by an official ceremony at Venice’s city hall, apparently a popular option with regular folks. Here’s what caught my eye — looks pretty expensive. There are services that apparently can help. But they look pricey, too.

For more on where to stay and what to do, click here.

More reasonable lodging ideas are here and here.


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Road trip ends up on one of my favorite sites

Happy that my visit to the symphony made it onto one of my favorite sites, The Bark.

A while back, I took a four-hour ride (each way) to see the Pittsburgh Symphony because there were dogs involved. They were an important part of the performance.

It was worth the schlep.


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What country best fits your personality?

Take this quiz. It’s fun, and just might prod you into exploring some new horizons on that next trip.

I’m India. Not surprising, since I’m a fool for yoga and curry. Mitch joked that the only reason I included it on a round-the-world trip a while back was because I was going for the grub.

True, but the visit turned out to be a lot more delicious than that.



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Let’s Paws: Away, and missing that special pet?

edie and me lobby

Meet Edie, the mascot at the Fairmont hotel in Pittsburgh. Or, to use her formal title, “Canine Ambassador.”

edie bent tail2



Look closely at this boxer/lab mix and you’ll see her tail is bent. Apparently this rescue pooch was hit by a car as a pup and that’s the way it healed. Fortunately, so did she.

Edie — named for Edie Sedgwick, close gal pal of one of Pittsburgh’s most famous natives, Andy Warhol  — began her schooling as a service dog. She was a little too gregarious and not serious enough for the gig, so she flunked her way into the hospitality industry.

pittsburgh edie better

A much better fit for this laid-back, human-loving canine. She’ll take you for a stroll around downtown Pittsburgh, or is happy to hang out when you feel like taking a meeting break.

Edie is a reminder that the Fairmont is a pet-friendly hotel.  She also has her own email and Facebook page.

Of course the Fairmont’s not the only hotel chain to do this. (Here’s another I found in Florida.) Lots of places have mascots. And here’s even more info.

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Cool place to stay: Where B&B means bed and beer

If you know anything about me, it’s that chocolate is my vice.

Everything I learned about beer was gleaned while living in Australia, where they take their brew very seriously. I could never keep up. It’s a safe bet even infants there can drink me under the table. And that’s perfectly fine. To be honest, I don’t like the taste, and would rather save the calories for hot fudge.

But I’d been hearing a lot about a relatively new cool place to stay. Cool because it’s the brainchild of the folks that brought the nation DogfishHead craft beer.

Craft is buzz for specially concocted. Experimental. In other words, not your father’s — or even necessarily your neighbor’s — beer.

Dogfish’s motto is “off-centered ales for off-centered people.” Anything with natural origins is fair game, including, raisins, maple syrup, and according to this surprisingly riveting interview with the founder, human saliva.

Here’s more gag-inducing detail.

Their Namaste brew caught the attention of this yogi. Hints of lemongrass and coriander. Hmmmm. A little natural high along with the alcoholic one?

Lest you think this is all impossibly pretentious hipster schtick, the founder insists the gimmicks actually taste swell. And that’s why enthusiasts like the stuff.

What’s it up against? The beer industry in general. Microbreweries, the little guys, are said to be a small part of the overall market. And there are hundreds of them vying for tastebuds. Sobering stats.

Dogfish is apparently spreading like the contents of an overturned beer bottle. Thirty states, says the founder. And raking in the millions.

Not exactly Anheuser-Busch. But not bad for a company that started less than a decade ago by a young guy studying creative writing at Columbia University who liked tinkering with a home brewing kit.

Which brings us to Delaware, where Dogfish is made. The southern part of the state that hugs a bay and the Atlantic Ocean is home to the brewery; a brew pub where you can eat and drink; and now, an inn close to all that action.

The Dogfish Inn is in Lewes. Clever choice. Place has been popular for a long time. There’s a lot of history, along with proximity to a state park along the water that’s been in vogue since the days of William Penn. You know you’re in Delaware because the park sports a meeting center named for VP and favorite son Biden.

inn -- exterior

Back to the inn. At first glance,  I thought: Since when does a place that looks like a gussied-up budget motel have the audacity to call itself an inn? With a hoity-toity price tag to match?


I soon ate, or should I say, drank my words, when I took a closer look. Pretty classy.

The happening design is straight outta Brooklyn. With name-brand mattresses and blankets.

inn--boat art

 Local art.

inn--beach chair A nifty place for all your gear.

inn--soap sink

Soap made with beer.


And coffee blended with malted barley, served in the adjoining cottage. But be advised you can’t get an actual beer here — though you’re more than welcome to bring some back from the brewery or a retail shop.

inn--city lights books

You can also curl up with a good book from the cottage library, curated by famed indie bookstore City Lights of San Francisco.

inn--dog bark

 The Dogfish Inn is also dog-friendly.

Innkeeper Andrew Greeley, who hails from Golden, Colorado — Coors Country — says the founder often stops by, and hangs around the fire pit with guests.

Worth the price of admission right there, I’d think, if you happen to be a Dogfish enthusiast.

Here are some other beer-themed places to vacation in the U.S. And abroad.

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