The OPMOM Blog

Beaune is a beautifuly city to visit where the Middle Ages are still deeply rooted. Historically the town of Beaune received its name from the Gauls that inhabited the area and built the first houses around 52BC.

After the invasion of the Barbarians, the city began to expand. It became the perfect crossroads between North, South, and East. The Dukes of Burgundy chose Beaune as their site for both the Palace and Parliament.  Today Beaune is considered the capital of Burgundy wines. The Côte de Beaune and the Hautes Côtes de Beaune produce harmonious wines like Meursault, Pommard, Montrachet, Corton-Charlemagne to name a few.  To take a break from the wine tours we ventured around the city discovering little winding roads that lead us to adorable cafes and shops.

We also toured the famous Hotel-Dieu, a hospice founded in 1443 by Nicolas Rolin and his wife. It was inspired by the architecture of Northern French hospitals. I loved the geometric multi-colored Burgundian roof tiles that you see below in the picture.

The building is arranged around a central courtyard.  The Kitchen has a Gothic fireplace that immediately gets your attention along with the collection of period copper cookware. In the kitchen there is a mechanical spit designed by watchmaker De Fresne in 1698, which automatically turned meat over the fire. In the pharmacy there were all kinds of unusual potions that were stored in jars and pots. They would mix up concoctions and grind them in a bronze mortar to prepare the remedies for the sick.

We also found two religious masterpieces housed there. The Christ-de-Pitié statue that is carved from wood and the Last Judgment Polyptych by Rogier Van der Weyden.

We really enjoyed our day trip in Beaune. It is a a great place to visit while you are exploring the wine country!

After Champagne we were ready to explore Bourgogne and all of its riches. We stayed near Beaune in a small town called Puligny-Montrachet at the Hotel “Le Montrachet“.  Our days were built around food and the most amazing wines in the world. My two favorite white wines are from this area Chassagne-Montrachet and Puligny-Montrachet.  I was beyond estatic to say the least to be in the midst of not only great food and wine, but also the gorgeous countryside that produces them both. We ventured out on day trips and visited the vineyards in the area and in the evenings it was a joy to return to the Hotel  Le Montrachet for apertifs, dinner and relaxation.

Burgundy has some of the greatest wines in the world as well as one of the most complex classification systems. These vinyards were split into tiny fractions after the French Revolution resulting in a number of appellations.  So we set up wine tastings for the next 3 days.  The only thing I found hard was getting in the mood for a 10:00 a.m. wine tasting. I will say that tasting wine at 10:00 a.m. was interesting but after a few, you kinda start to get the hang of it.

We ate & drank our way through countless amazing dishes: Pastries, Escargots De Bourgogne, Langosustine, Blanc De Volaille Au Foie Gras, Oeufs en Meurette, Boeuf Bourguignon, and the cheeses  – dear god the cheeses - are seriously out of this world. At the La Montrachet’s in-house restaurant (of the same name), the cheese cart at the end of your meal included St. Nectaire, Cantal, Blue de Bresse and some that were handcrafted by French monks. Every meal at Le Montrachet was amazing, to say the least. The neat thing about it was I still felt right at home. The rooms were nice and comfortable. They always had food and drinks available during different points of the day to try. 

One night we decided to venture out and eat at a place where the locals go. The proprietors of Le Montrachet pointed us to a little town called Remigny. We ended up is the cutest place called Auberge L’Escale . This is where I had my favorite version of Oeufs en meurette.  The dinner was homey, the ultimate in French comfort food and a great way to spend an evening in Burgundy.

“Well, it’s true what they say about Paris.  I’m so sick of romance I could lose my omelette. People kissing everywhere, like they’re going without air, on a bet.” from “French Kiss” by David LaMotte

It is true what they say, but to me, the romance wasn’t sickening at all.  Lovers entwined on park benches, tongues down each other’s cafe cremes,  melting into each other on the subway; it all just added to the allure that is Paris. 

The sunset light where it doesn’t even get dark until after 9, the lacy lingerie shops, the music floating in the air from sexy Argentinian street musicians set the stage for love.  If my husband had been there with me, I’m sure we barely would have come up for air long enough to take in the view.

And what a view it was.  No, I never made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but it doesn’t matter.  I saw it lit up on a late-night in the city, under a no-kidding full moon.   A hefty portion of the French g.d.p. goes towards illuminating the Tower in a light show every hour on the hour after dark.  In a post-five-course dinner that included oysters, duck and creme brulee, we dragged ourselves over to the esplanade and waited, our tired feet and legs growing weary from jet-lag and several carafes of red wine. 

We waited some more.  And then,  Bam! the iron monument to modern spectacle and history in the making, began to glimmer like a million diamonds in the clear Parisian sky.  Wow!  Merveilleux!  Formidable! It was worth the wait.  What a way to showcase a week that would be full of Eiffel Tower moments.  There may have been kissing everywhere else, but none for me.  Maybe next time.  It was still romantic quand meme, all the same.

“I drink it when I’m happy and when I’m sad. Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone.  When I have company I consider it obligatory.  I trifle with it if I’m not hungry and I drink it when I am.  Otherwise I never touch it, unless I’m thirsty.” ~ Lily Bollinger

If I were to imagine heaven on earth it would be located in Champagne in the so-called “sacred triangle” that includes Epernay, Reims, and Chalons-en-Champagane. Champagne is like a magnet for wine lovers.  My husband and I landed in Paris and drove straght to Reims for our first stop! 

Reims is known for producing countless champagne lables like Krug, Lanson, G.H.Mumm & Cie, Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin, Louis Roederer, Ruinart, Piper-Heidsieck, Pommery and Charles Heidsieck.

In Champagne you will find all types of French cuisine in the restaurants. The region borders Belgium so there are plenty of Flemish dishes on the menu as well. The regional cuisine has traditionally been rustic and hearty and include a selection of game such as venison and wild boar which are prepared as roasts or casseroles or in a potée champenoise (a stew from the Champagne region).   I also notice some dishes with unusual names that are derived from the Flemish origin and traditionally contain ingredients such as beer, chicory, prunes and raisins.

Our dinners included dishes made with Ardennes ham (Belgium’s answer to Prosciutto di Parma),  Boudin Blanc that are sausages made with pork, eggs, milk and some seasoning and sometimes truffles, chestnuts, foie gras or other ingredients are added.  We discovered patés and terrines made with roast rabbit or roast thrush flavoured with juniper berries that were delish!

We enjoyed a rosé by Ruinart one of the oldest Champagne Houses and also discovered a a Champagne made by Henri Abele that has a smiling angel on the label.  You can also find this angel in the Gothic Cathedral Notre-Dame at Reims. 

We visted the House of Taittenger Established since 1734.  Taittinger is now one of the few family owned Champagne houses in the region. The house uses Chardonnay as the dominant grape for the brand making, creating a light and elegant taste. The oldest parts of the cellars are located on the site of Gallo-Roman chalk mines dug in the 4th century. The tour was informative that ended with a tasting of your choice. We tried and feel in love with Taittenger rosé.

Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Founded in 1772 by Philippe Cliquot. This was the first champagne house to distribute rosé champagne in 1775.  Philippe’s son, François inherited the company but died  in 1805 of a  fever, leaving his 27 year old widow Barbe Nicole Ponsardin behind becoming the  Veuve (widow) Cliquot. She was very successful, and is considered as one of the most impressive business women of modern times. It was the official champagne of the Danish, Swedish and English courts, and it was also drank at the celebration of the Queen’s silver jubilee in 1977.

Although we did not get to visit the House of Krug, it is my favorite champagne. If you are planning on visiting be sure to check the hours of the tours and tastings for any specific champagne house you want to visit during your stay. Our next stop Puligny-Montrachet!

At first blush, The Little Prince (le Petit Prince) appears to be a simple children’s tale, written by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, French author, journalist and pilot, in 1943, the year before his death.  However, almost everyone who reads it finds something more profound within its pages, layered with riddles, philosopy and poetic metaphor.  Take for example, one of its most oft-quoted lines, “Here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

After spending the day in Montmartre, our eyes, our hearts, and our palates saw our way rightly through a tucked away, rainy alleyway in the Latin Quarter, to a tiny yet exquisite restaurant called Le Petit Prince. No connection to the whimsical tale of a boy who makes friends with a tree on a distant planet, this place was named, rather, for the nickname the owner’s grandmother gave him at a young age.  Finding our way in, after securing the last reservation for the night before the post-theater crowd lay claim, was like stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia, only the men were so, so much better looking.  We flirted madly, which was safe, because they were all little princes in their own right, if you know what I’m saying.

 
Sara ordered Kir Royal, her favorite new apero, and I, being the more flirtatious (translation:  obnoxious) of the two, started asking questions.  So, here, mes amies, is how it’s done.

As  you can tell by the video, the ambience is dark and warm.  The decor is somewhat mysterious — a stairway to nowhere??  But the duck breasts with fig sauce were so essentiel to the dining experience of this entire trip, perhaps my entire life! So essential were they that I immediately began a quest to find the recipe.  Though the dinner at Petit Prince will never be duplicated, the misty skies, the gorgeous wait staff, the wine and cheese and profiteroles for dessert, this recipe does come as close as I think possible on these shores to replicating the night.  In my memories, my mind’s eye, and my heart of hearts, I think I see it rightly.

 My favorite part about France is actually not Paris but the countryside. I love exploring the the wine country and savoring the most amazing restaurants in all of France. There is so much to see outside of Paris and so much to experience.

My husband and I landed in Paris, jumped in a car and zoomed through the city to start our driving tour in Champagne & Bourgogne over to Provence down to the Côte d’Azur with a hop over to Northern Italy and a flight back to Paris. So while you are enjoying Adventures in Paris  get out and explore some of the French Countryside!

Recently, the European Union relaxed restrictions on ugly fruit.  No, not the produce called ugli fruit. I mean, the really unsightly stuff.  Cucumbers and zucchinis that look like green you-know-whats.  Eggplants that look like even bigger, swollen, purple, you-know-whats.  Up until last month, there was a ban in Britain on crooked neck squash that was too crooked.  The Brussels sprouts in Brussels had to sprout up just right, or they would be tossed in the rubbish bin.  But not anymore.  Unsightly apricots can reclaim their place in the sun.  (If you ask me, apricots can go the way of the dodo, but save the pulpy plums, the measly mushrooms, and the lopsided leeks.)  For more information, read here.

But why bother?  In France, all the produce is gorgeous anyway, exactly because it’s French.  I love to cook, but I’d rather spend my day giving blood than going grocery shopping.  But groceries are just more appealing when they’re labeled in the language of love.

In Paris, we headed out with our grocery list and our eco-green, reusable shopping bags to Bon Marche, the epitome of the Parisian department store, looking all over for the butcher shop.  Turns out we were in the other Bon Marche, the three story, city-block-sized mecca of haute couture and 300 euro handkerchiefs and bottles of toilet water.  When we asked for directions to the deli counter, we were literally escorted across the street by the security guard in his cute little kepi.  First time I’ve ever been escorted out of anywhere.  At least he complimented me on my French.

When we set foot inside the building next door, I was in paradise.  Forget chic cosmetics and fancy French fashions.  Give me a spice rack full of exotic and aromatic herbs any day.  You don’t have to be a gourmet or a gourmand to appreciate that every crumb of bread, grain of salt, and mustard seed was of qualite superieur.  And I defy you to find gingered roses from Morocco at your local Kroger or SuperTarget.   Nothing ugly here, EU restrictions or not.  And just look at these oeufs. . .

You don’t have to shop indoors to find the best, most beautiful fruits and vegetables.  In fact, even chefs of the city’s most famous restaurants are up early shopping the street markets, perusing each stall for what is most succulent and savory for that day’s plat du jour.  Each neighborhood has its own market, rotating out on different days, sometimes selling flowers, meats, even birds– for pets, not for dinner.

Paris is truly a smorgasbord of cultures, of people, and of flavors.  Whether you’re hungry for a handful of bright red cherries

or ready to whip up an entire French feast*;  whether you choose to go upscale, “worshipping at the temple of French food” or kneel at its more humble altars, the corner fruit stands and fresh street markets, you will never fall short of finding the best marketshare of foods in the world.

If you are ready to cook up some French classics in your own kitchen, stay tuned to our series all this week. I’ll give you a tried and true menu that you can prepare at home with recipes we adapt from a fabulous restaurant in Montmartre.  We’ll even go there and watch kir being served (by some of the hottest waiters in Paris, so you won’t want to miss that!) .  Later, we’ll assemble a typical French picnic and even visit an elegant tearoom for some African hot chocolate that will make your mouth water, even if it’s a hundred degrees outside.  Bon appetit!

Montmartre bustles at the pinnacle of Parisian life.

A city within The City, it is an amalgamation of tourists, artists, musicians, vrais Parisiens, and everybody who caters to anybody in between.  Here you can be served French Chardonnay by a hippy, 70’s-throwback, American-looking frat-boy mec (dude) in a bar where the local coven gathers to smoke cigarettes and brew magic. 

Indian import shops and flamenco shoe stores line up next to postcard stands and street bands out to entertain the crowds and make a euro or two.

For not much more than that, delicacies can be had in a charming little shop on a delightful street nestled on the hill between Sacre Coeur and the Lapin Agile. 

In this hundred-year old establishment, www.epicerie-lion.fr you can buy organic olive oil in bulk, fresh herbs and flowers for your terrace garden, and native sweets for the sweet.  Almond macaroons are sold by the cent grammes. You can sample fresh butter cake, more butter than cake.  And if that’s not enough butter, you can buy a box of butter and salt caramels for the subway ride home.  List of ingredients:  sugar, milk, butter, and salt.

The most curious things in this little shop of wonders, next to the crystallized violet and rose petals that looked more like jewels than food, were the flavored rice puddings:  almond and raspberry, cherry chocolate, apricot.  I bought the cinnamon tea and apple one to remind me of this lovely place where I first discovered them. This little video clip of Epicerie Lion will give you a peek at what’s inside!

Black is the new black.  Black is the old black. Black is de rigeur.

That much hasn’t changed in French fashion today, and I doubt it ever will. Neanmoins, a fashion revolution is slowly making ripples in the Parisian landscape. 

Everywhere, color pops and sizzles like fireworks over the Seine.  Aquamarine, citrus yellow, lime green and ruby-slipper-red fill shop windows and illuminate hats, bags, shoes, and everything in between.  This movement is delicious, like candy in a bon-bon shop, but also like sugar, too much of it makes you feel a little nauseated.  That’s why, in the discreet,understated styles of the everyday Parisian riding the Metro, sipping wine in a sidewalk cafe, bustling through the crowded streets of the city, you only see flashes of color, more like fireflies than fireworks, in a vast sky of black. “BoBo” is still a trend in Paris. From “Bohemian-Bourgeoisie” it is new money trying its best to look vintage/green/stylishly disheveled.  

Furniture is sparse, fabrics are low-maintenance, fitted fussiness is out, and prices are high high high.  It costs a lot of money to look like you don’t have any.  Young French couples spend their euro’s on baby strollers and organic chemises with designer labels; urban professionals drive heated motor-scooters.  Their shoes and eyeglasses cost more than we like to spend on footwear and eyecare for our entire families.  Making ends meet when you’re not nouvelle riche in Paris is an exercise in flea markets and dining in.  Hmm, sounds familiar. . .

If you’re not riche but you want to sample a bit of the look, it is fun and easy to achieve with the right accessories.  A bit of bling, a boa scarf, an embroidered Tunisian tunic, Kookai stripes or a pair of wild tights added to your simple black everyday attire is all you need to feel inclus.  Oh how I love the bedazzled rhinestone cocktail ring I picked up in a baubles shop in the chic district, St. Germain des Pres in the 6eme arrondissement.  When I wear it with the indulgently expensive, tiered and tulled, BLACK frou-frou tutu skirt I purchased across the street, I am French-cowgirl-country-eclectic, BoBo all the way, baby.  Or should I say, ma cherie?

To get an idea of what’s in the shop windows strolling down one very popular street, watch this video.

One hint:  what you put underneath your new ensemble is just as important as what you reveal.  It’s okay to show a hint of lace peeking out from underneath a peasant blouse or unhemmed skirt, but soyez modete.  The secret to the art of French seduction is to leave a lot to the imagination, but do not ignore the details.

To try it out yourself, you don’t have to go across the Atlantique.  Start with a black skirt, tie the arms of a light summer sweater (also black, preferably) around your neck and slip on some low heeled black pumps. Now add a sparkly gem bracelet , patent leather shoulder bag , a brightly printed silk scarf .  It doesn’t have to be Hermes (or Oscar de la Renta).  Even if it were, you should probably hide the label anyway.  You don’t want to try too hard.  The look is effortless in a very concerted French way.  “Rock it, Paris-style!”  C’est la vie, c’est la mode!

What is it about me that loves all things French?

The milled soaps, the cured black olives, the fountains in the middle of every square in every park, city or town? The creamy cheeses and luscious red wines, the waiters in their penguin suits in the cafes? The men are suave, the women are stylish, and I find myself wanting to embrace their homeland, their mother tongue, their refined sense of all that is elegant, artistic, cultured.  Do the caves at Lascaux really hold the secret to the cradle of arts in modern civilization?  Paper may have been invented in China, Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel in Italy, but our idea of artiste, stereotypical or not, was born in the studios of Renoir and Rodin, the garrets of Montmartre, the gardens of Giverny.  David painted Napoleon crowning himself emperor, and the magnificent tableau hangs in the Louvre, one-time royal residence and now palace of all things historically significant in the art world.

It’s not just French art that sets the standard for the rest of the world; it is food, wine, and fashion.  France may not be the most technologically or bureaucratically advanced nation in the free world, but who cares?  Sitting at la Coupole, oysters, Bordeaux, the city’s most elite, the world’s cutest wait staff, the new French frock you paid a week’s salary for; on s’en fou. Whether you make it to the top of the Eiffel Tower or the steps of the Sacre Coeur, you’re still at the top of the world.

Paris is magical, alluring, entrapping you into believing you could live this life for a very long time, when in reality, French people work long hours (okay, not really.  They typically don’t go into work until 10 am and are home at 7:00.), pay their bills, walk their dogs (who poop on the sidewalk), put their pants on one leg at a time, live, and die.  But they do their living and dying with just a little more effervescent panache than the rest of the world.   That’s the magic, the bubbles in the Perrier and billowing out of the shop displays, the extra dollop of foam on the cafe au lait, the colors in the shop windows, the lovers on the park benches. C’est de la magie, c’est la vie!

I went to Rome once without a guidebook.  Big mistake.  There we were, three lost, lira-less Americans in the cradle of modern civilization standing with our mouths wide open and great big do-huh? expressions on our faces.  It was sad.  I really regret that trip.  Good pizza though.

So, although I said in my introduction that I was determined to do my adventure in Paris in a carefree, Holly Golightly approach, I am much too much of a list-maker to actually follow through with spending a week in Paris without a list.  There was just too much at stake.  I didn’t want to miss a trick, and if I don’t want to miss something, I have to write it down. 

So Sara and I sat at a corner cafe on Sunday morning, cafe cremes and croque madames pushed out of our way on the tiny terrace table.  (The terrace wasn’t tiny; it was sprawling out into the street and packed with church-skipping Parisians and tourists like us.  The table was tiny.)  Anyhoo, we made room for our journals and guide books and mapped out our week. 

Since our apartment was a block from the Seine, with Notre Dame in full view from our closest Metro stop, we didn’t have to put that on the list.  We stopped there several times and took photos from both sides, romped in the courtyard at night in the rain, perused the fascinating, attic-like nooks and crannies of literary treasures at Shakespeare and Co. English bookstore across the river, even filmed an embarassing-ly goofy birthday video on our way to the island on which it stands.  And although its beauty and craftsmanship represent a near-perfect example of Gothic grandeur, perhaps the most stunning cathedral, or even building in the world, it is not my favorite church in Paris.  Just a few blocks away, and even closer to our home-away-from-home, is a true gem in the catalog on historical French monuments to history and to God:  Sainte-Chapelle.  

“Few sights,” reads the guide book I purchased at Shakespeare*, “even in Paris, rival the royal chapel of Sainte-Chapelle.  This tiny jewel, built in the 13th century, 100 years before Notre-Dame, has a series of exquisite stained-glass windows.”  Louis IX had it built to house the Crown of Thorns and other holy relics.  The artifacts are no longer there, but their story is fascinating, told in glass that will take your breath away.  Try to go on a sunny day, when light comes streaming through the facets like rubies and diamonds.  I swear you will hear the glorious song of Heaven in that light.

There’s more to the story:  built alongside the chapel was the Palais de Justice and the Conciergerie.  Take this short video tour and you will see where Marie-Antoinette, among others, was imprisoned during the Revolution.

If beautiful churches in Paris are a dime a dozen, you can barely throw a lucky centime without having it land in a fountain.  Every park has its fountain.  Every square and courtyard, every monument, small and grand.  

 *A good guidebook is essential.  Before I left home, I picked up Time Out Paris (Time Out Guides). Its write-ups are generally on target, but it leaves out a lot of interesting and helpful details, and the maps were very confusing.  A better book for the directionally challenged is Moon Metro Paris.  I love the open-out maps included in the descriptions of each key area.  I recommend checking out a few different books at the library and finding the one that suits your style, your pocketbook, and how much room you have in your suitcase.  Or just make a beeline to Shakespeare on your first day in the city, buy your guidebook there, plop down on the terrace of the nearest cafe, and make your own list. 

My sister Sara is turning 30 this summer. Since she’s my little sister, I guess the gig is up; I will finally have to stop claiming to be 29!

To celebrate the momentous occasion, I am honored and thrilled that she invited me to go with her to the City of Lights. That’s right, ladies, Paris! My vacation will start the minute I sit down on that transcontinental flight and pour my first little fun-size bottle of Chardonnay. I am looking forward to every single, gloriously childless second spent browsing the art, strolling the quais de la Seine, sipping wine, laughing with my sis, and revisiting some of my favorite spots in tout le monde.

Sara manages a wonderful grassroots music and dance festival in North Carolina that features groups like Donna the Buffalo, the Elikem African Dance Company, and Keith Frank and the Soileau Zydeco Band. http://www.shakorihills.org/

If you missed the festival this year, you can catch it when it lands in a grassy field again sometime next fall. It’s organic and groovy and family-friendly, and from the picture Sara paints, always a little in flux. It’s perfect for her, because she herself is organic and groovy and somewhat more go-with-the-flow than I am.

That’s why it will be totally marvelous to travel with her. I am her tour guide, her caddy, and her partner-in-crime.

I came here a handful of times in my twenties as a student and then a newlywed (we won the airfare on a $2 raffle ticket!)  But this time I can tour the city the way I’ve always wanted to – less like a tourist and more like a grown-up – a coupla euro’s in my pocket, some fabulous shoes on my pieds (in place of the Asics I donned the last time I was in town), and a serious skip in my step.

Sara’s not married and has no kids, but she’s my kids’ favorite aunt, and she’s been around them enough to know 1) how much I adore them and 2) how badly I need this break away from them. She rented this appartement in the 6 ème arrondissement that is charming and hip at the same time. It is oh-so-Franch and oh-so-close to the Pont Neuf and Sainte-Chappelle, if we crane our necks out the second story window, we can probably see the river and glints of sunlight off the stained glass.

I don’t have a guidebook, I don’t have a list, I don’t have an agenda. I told her there is only one thing I really, really want to do, during our six euphoric days of Parisian paradise. I would love to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Yes, it may be tourist-y. My camera doesn’t even have a very good zoom. But I’ve never done it before, and I just want to get up there. I’ve seen the city from the old ferris wheel by the Louvre. I’ve seen it from the steps of the Sacré-Coeur in Montmartre. But I’ve never seen it from this iron relic of the final World’s Fair of the 19ème siècle.

Okay, so I have a few other suggestions to add to our tour. There’s this awesome comic book shop for true Tintin lovers like myself. There’s the Maya painting in the Picasso Museum that my daughter is named for. There’s Place des Vosges,  the stunning and architecturally unique square where Victor Hugo’s 17th century digs are located. I never even read Les Misérables, but I can sing every word of the score, and I love the cobblestone streets in that cool old neighborhood.

The entire city is a network of one ‘cool, old neighborhood’ after another. I am delirious about going again. To tell you the truth, I am pretty darn giddy just thinking about reclining my seat, watching the little airplane fly across the Atlantic on that screen in the front of the coach section and pouring my first fun-sized bottle of wine. Bon voyage!

Now that spring is upon us the travel bug begins to set in

Well, I don’t know if this is true for you but it has always been true for me. I come out of my winter hibernation and start dreaming of what adventures I should take on. Although in the last few years my very definition of adventure has changed, my need to flee has not diminished. Whereas in the past, I might have asked myself what country I am curious about, I now ask myself where can I have the most fun …with my kids. Yes, I am now a mom! Ever since my little girl Stella (who is now 2 1/2) was born I knew I still wanted to shake up the routine and get out there.

My Traveling Buddy
I did some research on how to travel with a baby and really couldn’t find what I was looking for, so I did it myself and My Traveling Buddy was born. I hope you’ll check it out; or join the My Traveling Buddy Group that we just started on Facebook.

Here is what I have found
Traveling is harder once you have kids, there is more stuff to bring, more things to consider, more headaches to be had, but it is also the best times with my babies. I love looking across row 10 and seeing my husband and kids and knowing that everything I love the most fits in this row of seats.
Everything I need is right there, no phones, no work, no art/dance/soccer/music class, just us alive and in the moment. Ah, I will tell you no amount of ‘oh my god how am I going to do this’ stress can compare!

Here is a little advice that I have found to be helpful through my own research and all those amazing moms that give me their stories.

The best bang for your buck when traveling with a family in this economy is vacation rentals. I have found they cost considerably less, give you more room than a hotel, and because they have a kitchen- you don’t spend all your money eating out. There are sites that cater to families; one I found recently is www.ciaobambino.com.

The one drawback to a vacation rental is that you usually have to furnish your own crib (many hotels have cribs if you ask). I suggest a lightweight travel crib like the Phil & Teds Traveller or Baby Bjorn’s Travel Lite Crib. They may seem a little expensive, but they are durable and will last through your baby (or babies) crib years and all are super compact!

The next tip I believe in is less is more

There is so much more stuff with kids that I try to cut corners when possible. One way to accomplish this is by renting a car seat from your rental car company, and leaving your bulky car seat at home! If your child is over two and you need a seat for the airplane, check out the CARES Harness that is a seatbelt attachment for the plane that folds into the side pocket of you diaper bag.

So tomorrow I leave on my first vacation since my twins, now 5 months, were born. I am equally thrilled and terrified, but yes- everything I love will still
(barely) fit in row 10. Wish me luck…

Happy Travels ~ Mia

Part of our new focus at OPMOM is “Traditions”

To me traditions are moments in time that are preserved and passed down.  I know plenty of families that have travel traditions with camping under the stars, skiing, going up to Cape Cod or visiting a national park.  

Over time our tradition became Rosemary Beach, Florida. I love the fact that the children will grow up coming here and we all look forward to it every year.  

Rosemary Beach is an oasis of time that remains untouched. It is a quaint little town with an adorable town square filled with speciality shops, cafes, wine bars, and plenty of activity. 

We begin a day in Rosemary with French toast mornings, biking or walking around the community, hanging out at the beach building sandcastles or visiting one of the pools. Most evenings we walk into town with a stop at Gigi’s for the kids.

Afterwards we head next door to pick up a bottle of wine & assortment of cheeses from the Wine & Cheese shop . You can also just grab a table and have it there.   Local artists are out on the weekends where you can find a treasure to take or wear home. 

It is a place where Mom and Dad can laugh and have fun while getting to know their children outside of the daily routine. You end the day with movies & popcorn or maybe a trip to the Sugar Shak with ice cream and candy galore.  Rosemary is more than a destination, it is a tradition. A place where the four of us can go and be the little family we are in this moment in time.  I can’t think of a better memory or tradition to pass on to my children. 

                                                                                                                                                              *OPMOM UPDATE: We just wanted to give you a heads up that the OPMOM Social Network is almost ready for it’s relaunch. We are putting the final touches on this week and we can’t wait!