Tackling the Globe…

After the ceremony, the rest of our wedding day was a total blur. Were we really there? Did we experience the following four hours? I don’t actually believe it. It all seems like a complete dream. I now fully understand what every bride before me was talking about.

But before we could get to the fun part—the party!—first, there were copious family portraits, starting with the (small and cozy) Luna family:

The (extended) Housholder clan (my mom’s side):

The VVs, all 500 of them:

The kidlets, Jack and Kiva:

The bros:

Of course, once family photos were over, we spent a good portion of the dinner hour(s) on Muir Beach taking our portraits, so when we arrived back at the inn, most people were already done eating and onto drinking.

Dad and his drinking buddies, Frank and Jim

Scott with his our(!) sister-in-law, Vanessa

Me with our dashing ushers, Ryan and Anthony

My editor, Matt, and his gal pal, Katy

New friends (Harriot and Bill) mingling with old (Jana, who I’ve known since I was 2, and her fiance Matt)

High Priestess Lemon with Holly and Moose

Catching up with two of my childhood besties, U.S. diplomat-in-Tokyo Tracy and fashion-designer-turned-teacher Mary Lambeth

We sat briefly and wolfed down some bangers and mash and who knows what other goodness (I can’t even tell you what we had for dinner that night), before resuming the mingling.

The toasts were probably my favorite part of the entire night—even though I had been somewhat worried no one was going to get up and say anything. Lemon had already done her duty with the whole ceremony thing, and neither of our dads are exactly comfortable in the spotlight.

But Scott’s brother Jim got up to kick off the toasts and wowed us all with a zinger: After lavishing us with compliments about what great people we are, blah blah blah, he put us to the test of how well we really knew each other.

I’m mighty skeptical of what’s coming next…

First, he had us each remove our shoes—this is when it was made evident that I ditched the heels for my Haviana’s—trade one with another and then answer a series of questions by holding up the shoe of the appropriate owner. He asked us things like who’s the best cook (SVV, hands down), who’s the biggest klutz (this girl) and who does all the cleaning (the both of us).

Apparently, we were too honest—or rather, a match made in heaven; yes, let’s go with that one—as we answered them all the same.

Then, my sister gave a witty (perhaps slightly tipsy) ode herself…

…followed by my always loquacious cousin John, who was the first to meet SVV five long years ago when we spent our first Christmas together with John in his Vienna bachelor’s pad.

Scott and my forever lovely mother-in-law Joan also both said some very kind words. (I remained silent, as public speaking—even in front of 85 of our closest friends at my own wedding—gives me hives.)

It was then time to cut the (cup)cake(s)—which we served with old-fashioned bottles of Strauss milk in champagne buckets of ice, alongside the (Ghirardelli) hot chocolate and coffee bars—and we were not the only ones excited about this. As I consider myself a cupcake connoisseur—this site would more accurately be named “Camels & Cupcakes” these days, or simply just “Camel Cupcakes” as my blog friend Orion calls it—I was happy to hear a whole lot of “these are the best darn cupcakes I’ve ever put in my mouth!”

We had our first dance to one of my favorite songs, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” by Lady Antebellum (as selected by my mom!)…

…then danced with our parents. (I’m pretty sure my dad starting singing “Louie, Louie” at that point, which is why I’m cracking up in all our photos together.) After that, there actually wasn’t a whole lot of dancing, as many people took the early shuttle back to the city (we arranged one shuttle coming and two going so people didn’t have to drive the windy way after drinking), but that was A-OK with us. I preferred hanging out and finally getting to talk to people to busting a rug. Besides, our guests made good use of the photobooth, the pub area and the Snug Room, which we were hoping they’d do.

I was so incredibly sober that night after managing just one glass of champagne in a seven-hour period that I drove us through the snaking roads of Muir Woods to Sausalito for the night, where our generous friends bought us a night at Inn Above Tide as a wedding gift. Though literally, we were in and out in under nine hours and back to the Pelican Inn for a hearty English brunch (and darts—check out Jack in its suave suit Joan made him) with the family and wedding party early the next morning.

We did, however, pause long enough to admire our balcony view in Sausalito—finally, a sunny day in the Bay Area after so many weeks of fog and cold—and, of course, fist bump (again) to pulling it all off.

*****

**All wedding photos by the incomparable Barbara Ries, who is off shooting Chelsea Clinton’s wedding this weekend!

Around the time many of you confessed you’d like to see, hear and read other travelers’ voices around here, American-in-Paris Danee Gilmartin dropped me a note offering to guest blog on C&C. As luck would have it, I was leaving just days later for Tassie and could really use the help. I checked out some of her past work, saw she was a darn good writer and sage on the topic of museums, and said, “yes please! Do blog for me while I am on the road.” And so she did. Show the New Yorker some love, people, so she’ll stop by and grace us with her presence again in the future. And don’t forget to check her out over at her site, MuseumChick.com!

*****

Being an American expat and exploring Paris for a year has done very bad things to my waistline (my addiction to French cheese has never been so unmanageable), so I won’t be blogging anytime soon on how French women stay thin, because I wasn’t let in on the secret. However, living here has given me time to explore unfrequented places, so I can share my secrets on less crowded and offbeat sites. Discovering quiet rose gardens, the neighborhood stinky-cheese shop and the vast number of specialized museums (that display the most interesting and sometimes the most bizarre things that I’ve seen) has been the most memorable part of my time in Paris. I’ve even visited the Sewer Museum, where I actually paid to tour the smelly sewers of Paris.

On my quest for the less touristy spots, I discovered one of my favorites, the Château de Vincennes. Did you know there is a medieval castle just outside the immediate center of Paris (a 20 minute Metro ride from the Louvre)? Since it doesn’t get a lot of love from popular tour books and is overshadowed by its ostentatious successors (the Château de Versailles and Château de Fontainebleau), the Château de Vincennes is much less crowded but still rich in history.

Mr. MuseumChick and I recently took the Metro there to explore the grounds, climb the medieval tower and have a picnic on the lawn. As I exited the Château de Vincennes Metro stop, I didn’t have to go far. Ascending the stairs, I looked to the left and standing so tall that it blocked the sun was the Village Tower and main entrance. Oh, how enchanting, a draw bridge over a moat! Good thing I’m not scared of heights because the bridge was quite high over the deep, now dry moat.

I’m a big fan of audio guides, especially if it’s my first visit. The phone-like audio guide paired with a map guided me around the grounds and then lead me inside the tower. The grounds are free to roam around in but to go up the tower and tour the rooms it is €8. And it’s worth it.

-All words and images by Danee Gilmartin

*****

Thanks for the great tips, Danee! If you’d like to guest blog in the future, shoot me an e-mail and I’ll keep your information on file for the next time I’m on the road.

In the beginning, our sole purpose for spending the first week of our honeymoon in Borneo was to check out this new resort, Bunga Raya, that had recently open and with which I was obsessed. (Or so I thought.)

I had the intention to write about it for some of my outlets—I know, I know, it’s my honeymoon, I shouldn’t be working—and had come across this place when the seed of an idea to jet off to Borneo was first planted by my friend Adventure Girl and could not get the thought of staying there out of my mind.

The thing is, on paper, everything looked really nice. The grounds were plush and verdant, decorated with every color of bunga raya—the national flower—under the sun. Rooms were brand new and outfitted with all modern gadgets and comforts—not like many of the other “rustic” (meaning basic) resorts we found in the area.

The bungalows were perched high in the jungle, slightly apart from the other units, and had great views of the South China Sea.

And yet there was something about the place that just wasn’t right. For one, we were the only ones there. Observe:

Other than two other guests in the 47-bungalow resort, we were the only ones. (And they still stuck us in the basic villa. Most resorts will give you an upgrade if they have the room. A beachside perch and private plunge pool would have been nice!) That’s a bit odd for a place that’s just been open a year, isn’t it? Not only that, but it’s creepy to have an island to yourself more or less, yet have staff pop out of every bush and crevice to try and tend to your every need.

Two, the food was terrible. As in frozen and reheated. Which is fine and all if you’re not paying FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS a night to stay on a secluded island. (Confession: We got a bit of a press rate for this one but were still forking over 300 bones a night.) Us being the only ones there got downright alarming. It felt as if something wasn’t right, like we were about to be the next to sacrificed up in some extreme Pagan ceremony. (Have you seen Wicker Man? That’s totally the feeling I got there.) Isn’t that why we’d come home late at night and find a hookah tent with billowing drapes set up in one of the dock pavilions?

There is a sister resort, Gayana, located on the other side of the island. We took a day trip over there. Each of the two resorts offers routine free ferry services to the other.

And other than the fact that the food was much better, all I have to say is: Damn. All Bunga Raya issues aside, I’m sure glad we didn’t opt to stay there!

Though we did see a bearded pig, trailed by a handful of long-tailed monkeys, en route on the boat. That was freakin’ awesome.

I won’t say all was lost. It wasn’t. We had a great time just being together and not interacting with others. We read a lot of books. We snorkeled off the coast.

We watched movies and World Cup. We had the pool to ourselves.

It was just far from what we were expecting, far less than what we paid for. But you know what? Sometimes that’s all part of the travel game. You learn as you go.

What did we learn? Well, that property websites can be deceiving. Don’t be fooled by the lure of good photography. And always be sure to check out the Trip Advisor reviews before you go.

*All photos taken with a Canon T1i, 10-20mm lens and 17-855mm lens, housed in a LowePro SlingShot.

**For more Photo Friday fun, visit Delicious Baby.

So many of you have asked for my insider experience on how to pack light and efficiently. Well I’m nothing if not service-y, so I figured, give the people what they want. And, thus, What’s in My Bag, a series of how to pack for various trips and climates, was born (right here and now). First up: packing for fall-type weather.

This week had me ditching my warm weather duds—who am I kidding, it’s rarely warm in the Bay Area, at least in summer; I just flit around in sundresses, freezing my ass off and trying to fool myself—in lieu of fall and light winter wear. Where am I heading? Why, Australia in winter time, in fact. (Actually, I’m already here! Hi from the far reaches of Tasmania!)

If I can help it, my rule of thumb is to only take a carry-on bag. It saves the stress of losing your luggage and the cost of baggage fees if you’re not an elite member/you’re flying one of these crap airlines who charge $23 per bag (ahem, Delta, I’m looking at you). This time it was easy in the sense that I’m only going to be gone for nine days, making one small bag a viable option, but difficult as Tassie is quite windy and cool (highs in the mid-50′s, lows in the mid-40′s), so I need thicker duds that will keep me warm and, likewise, occupy more space in my bag. Still, it can be done. Observe.

I made this video as a tutorial, but as many of you read my blog from work, I also broke it down in writing below.

Packing for Fall Weather from Camels & Chocolate on Vimeo.

1. Dress in one color scheme. I usually pick one overall color family—in this case, gray; oftentimes, it’s tan/light brown—and match all outfits to it. This significantly cuts back on the number of shoes I have to take, which are the number one thing that weigh down my luggage. In this instance, I have one pair of flat gray boots that fold up rather nicely to wear over jeans during the day, one pair of silver-y pewter flats to dress up outfits for nighttime, and my gray TOMS to wear on the plane and around the city on days with a lot of walking. Ditto to accessories. Since I’ll be wearing all gray complements, this rules out gold jewelry entirely, and I can simply pack a pair or two of silver hoops and studs and one bracelet and wear them with all ensembles.

2. Layer. For this particular trip, when it’s going to be cooler than most and I’m going to be out and about in the thick of it, I brought two tees, two long-sleeved shirts that fit easily under the tees, two sweaters, two cardigans and a winter coat. All can be stacked and inter-mixed so I can get more wear out of the few items I brought and also won’t be cold as I always have another layer handy to throw on top. I don’t normally get dirty enough to need to wash things while traveling, but many hotels do offer laundry services so if I’m doing a lot of trekking, as was the case in Rwanda, I can always send my soiled duds out and have them back the next morning in time to wear again.

As far as on the bottom, I brought one pair of casual Gap jeans, another dark wash pair that can easily be dressed up, and a pin-striped denim skirt. Again, they all go with every top I brought, shoes too. I packed one dressy Language tank well suited for the dark  jeans, and a dressier Anthropologie cardi for dinners. At the last minute—because I had minimal space to spare—I slipped in one thin Anthro dress (that match the pewter flats), just in case I decide to mix things up one evening. I am a newly converted jeans wearer, after all; going a week without a dress is comparable to a meth addict going a day without hitting the pipe.

3. Wear your bulkier items on the plane. I’m taking a wool pea coat for the 45-degree nights, and as I have zero room left in my bag for such heavy items. Airports and airplanes are always freezing anyway, so I’m more often than not happy to have it on me.

4. Go au naturel. Once I finally learned to leave the curling iron and straightener and make-up I never end up wearing in the first place, et al, at home, it freed up loads of space in my bag. You’re traveling! Go with it! You don’t need to look like an extra on The Hills. (Also, in this day and age, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a hotel that doesn’t offer hair dryers, so you can be slightly high maintenance and still pack light.)

5. Skimp on the toiletries. Again, every hotel—whether two stars or five—offers shampoo and body wash and lotion and bars of soap, and restocks your room daily. Conditioner, on the other hand, is not always a given, so I leave the others at home and take a hotel-sized bottle (or two) of conditioner along with me in case. Insider tip: If you don’t want to surrender your liquids to the security belt, quite simply, don’t. Just hide them really well. Typically, I bury my toiletries in the middle of the bag to hide them from the X-ray (still ziplocked, just in case), and in the three years since the liquids rule went into effect, I have been caught all of once. Just sayin’: It saves you time.

Next up in the packing series: what to take and wear on board. Until then!