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We’re Alison and Mike, a couple from Washington, D.C. who decided to take a year-long career break to wander the world. Follow along with us on our adventures!

Check out where we've been lately!

- Lovely Lisbon: The Grand Finale
  January 3, 2020Europe / PortugalWe emerged from the train station into brilliant sunshine, squinting our eyes for a moment against the sun’s glare reflecting off white tiled sidewalks. A glorious view presented itself: the gleaming Tagus River lay before us, so wide it looked like the sea, and behind us, spread out like the pages of an illustrated storybook, was Lisbon. Lisbon, city of apricot-hued rooftops, steep hills, and narrow lanes, is classically beautiful and quintessentially European. Each gorgeous neighborhood has a distinct identity. There is medieval Alfama, once home to the city’s Moorish occupants, with little streets that curl and twist like nautilus shells; bohemian Bairro Alto, one of the hottest nightlife districts in Europe; newer Baixa, with its wide avenues and tourist crowds; and sophisticated Principe Real, full of chic shops and upscale homes. Lisbon is one of the oldest cities in Europe, but it has a pulsing vitality that calls to mind the lively vibe of Budapest or Prague. The whole city feels constantly on the cusp of a celebration, as though every day is New Year’s Eve. The combination of Lisbon’s intoxicating energy and the heavy knowledge that we had only a week left in our trip made us fling ourselves headlong into the present moment. We decided to soak in every spoil the city had to offer and do whatever we wanted, cost be damned. Luckily for our wallets though, most of the things we love doing don’t involve spending much at all. We kicked off our week in Lisbon on a free walking tour with Sandeman Tours, the same company that guided us in Prague. Our young guide, Francisco, who initially seemed standoffish, turned out to be witty and entertaining. (I knew I had misjudged him the moment he commented, “I’ve been told I have the dreaded ‘resting bitch face.’ Even if I look serious, I promise I’m happy. Ask me anything you want!”) Francisco regaled us with stories of Portugal’s sea-faring past, beginning with the fifteenth century Age of Discovery, when the country grew into the most powerful empire on the planet, all the way up through the present. The most significant event in Lisbon’s history, which ultimately expedited the nation’s decline, was the great earthquake of 1755. The earthquake leveled the city, caused widespread fires, and triggered a massive tsunami. Tens of thousands of citizens were killed. Although a handful of neighborhoods were spared (mainly the Moorish Alfama district), most of the city was destroyed. We visited one haunting reminder of the quake’s impact when we toured Igreja do Carmo, the skeletal remains of a once-imposing cathedral. Although we made time for all of Lisbon’s top attractions, including taking a day trip to the nearby beach town of Cascais and spending an afternoon sipping Super Bock beers next to the iconic Torre de Belém, our favorite experiences were, unsurprisingly, more off the beaten path. We checked out the National Coach Museum, which contains one of the finest collections of horse-drawn carriages in the world, admiring ornately decorated carriages utilized by generations of European royalty. The coaches were Cinderella objects come to life, and I half expected a benevolent fairy godmother to emerge from them and offer me a chance to dance with a prince. As stunning as the carriages appeared, the museum’s displays described in great detail how bumpy and uncomfortable they actually were to travel in. So much for my princess fantasies! We spent an evening watching the sunset from a catamaran after signing up for a cruise via Airbnb Experiences, enjoying splendid views of Lisbon from the water as the sky slowly faded from blue to orange to purple. Our captain, an amiable white-haired gentleman named Vitor, was a former lawyer who pooled his savings to quit his job and buy a boat. He pointed out the city’s landmarks as we passed them, providing such exuberant descriptions that we could easily have been his first guests rather than the hundredth group he had welcomed on his boat. Lisbon looks surprisingly similar to San Francisco, mostly due to the Ponte 25 de Abril, a bridge that’s practically a clone of the Golden Gate. We also happened upon a family restaurant run by a Portuguese grandmother, and we loved her fresh seafood so much that we returned almost every day for lunch or dinner. She animatedly described the daily specials to us in Portuguese every time we visited, undeterred by our lack of fluency in the language. Although I understand bits and pieces of her fish descriptions thanks to cognates between Spanish and Portuguese, we mostly nodded, smiled, and figured she’d bring us whatever was good that day. Our favorite meal was a simple yet hearty combination of succulent grilled octopus, baked potatoes, and summer vegetables. And one of the loveliest days we spent in Lisbon was an afternoon we just walked across the city for miles and miles utterly without an agenda. We paused at several famous lookout points, taking photos and gazing out towards the river, before randomly choosing the next lane to wander down. We stumbled upon boisterous street performers, old men twirling their sweethearts in time to the music, and a tiny craft brewery with a friendly owner who loved making American-style beers, including one of our perennial favorites, hoppy New England IPAs. As the sun began to sink down behind the city’s hills, casting the streets in warm evening light, we followed the sounds of Punjabi music to a raucous Indian street festival, watching men, women, and children in saris and kurtas sway and jump in time to an infectiously enthusiastic live band. We grinned as we watched, the celebration reminding us of our native northern Virginia, which is home to a large and diverse South Asian community. We spent our very last day of the whole trip (where on earth had ten and a half months gone?) exploring the nearby village of Sintra, famous for its numerous grand castles and palaces. In true Mike and Alison fashion, we forewent the opportunity to take a taxi to Castelo dos Mouros, a Moorish fortress situated on a mountaintop two miles from the train station, instead huffing our way there on a steep hiking trail. The panoramic views from the fort’s walls were spectacular, and provided startlingly clear vistas all the way to the Atlantic Ocean a dozen miles away. Too soon, our wonderful week in Lisbon was over, and instead of taking off for our next exotic destination, it was time to cross the Atlantic and head back to the United States. It had been almost a year since we’d left home, and in that time, we had literally circled the globe. We’d visited 27 countries (well, 26, but we like to count the moment we stepped in Poland!) and 91 cities, and learned that people all over the world are open, welcoming, and excited to meet travelers. We’d also discovered just how diverse and gorgeous the planet is, and that the notion that the rest of the world is unsafe is pure fabricated myth. We were unquestionably not the same two people who left Dulles for Japan on a cool October morning. As we flew west from Lisbon, in the direction of home, towards our parents and friends and families and cat, I turned in my seat, gazing down at the dazzling Portuguese coastline until it completely disappeared from sight. I was crying, but I was smiling too. Until next time, adeus from Portugal.... Read more...
- Porto: Fishing Village, Tourist Hub, and Birthplace of Port
  October 28, 2019Europe / PortugalThere are few places in the world where the traditional and the modern mingle as closely as they do in Portugal. One moment, you’re walking down Porto’s tourist-packed riverfront promenade, your feet firmly rooted in the present. Then you turn down a quiet side street lined with azulejo-covered row houses, and there are scarf-clad little old ladies dressed in black out completing their daily shopping. For a moment, you wonder if you stumbled through a portal back into the nineteenth century, when fishermen’s wives went about their errands while anxiously awaiting the return of their sea-faring husbands. Portugal today is not the same country I remember from my one previous visit in 2005 (which isn’t surprising, given nearly 15 years have passed.) I spent a weekend in Lisbon when I studied abroad in college, and I remember Portugal feeling like an extension of Spain. Maybe it’s because that first visit only lasted 48 hours, or perhaps I’m just a more seasoned traveler now, but Portugal definitely shouldn’t be considered a mere offshoot of its larger neighbor. For one, Portugal has distinct architecture, notably the popularity of azulejos, painted ceramic tiles that adorn homes, restaurants, shops, and train stations. Ordinary city blocks, even in gritty neighborhoods, are beautiful explosions of color. Portuguese food is also quite a bit different from Spanish cuisine, with an emphasis on meaty sandwiches, crusty bread, canned fish, and decadent custard pastries, including the famous pastel de nata, an egg tart baked in pastry dough and sprinkled with cinnamon. The little treats are particularly delectable when they’re served fresh out of the oven. We also noticed that tons of Portuguese citizens are multilingual. Although plenty of people in Spain speak English, Spain is definitely the more challenging country to travel through if you don’t speak any of the language. In one wine shop in Porto, we observed with admiration as the young bartender addressed his customers in flawless Portuguese, Spanish, French, or English depending on where they hailed from. Despite Portugal and Spain’s differences, the nations’ geographic proximity has ensured their cultures evolved to share similarities. Each country has strong Catholic roots, with churches, convents, and monasteries on seemingly every corner. They’re also both relatively affordable to visit, especially compared with other destinations in western Europe like France and the United Kingdom. Unfortunately, however, Portugal is no longer western Europe’s best-kept budget travel secret. The complete lack of crowds I remember in 2005 is now but a wisp of memory. We visited for two weeks in August, splitting our time evenly between the northern city of Porto and Lisbon, the capital further south. Porto in particular was so packed that it was almost unenjoyable at times, which I’m sure was at least partly due to the season. Although the weather was lovely–with California-style sunshine and moderate temperatures–August is the most popular month of the year for Europeans (and many Americans) to go on holiday, ensuring sightseeing experiences involve lots of waiting in line and wading through elbow-to-elbow crowds. Porto’s popularity has increased exponentially in recent years, likely because it’s now connected to other European cities through flights on budget airlines like Ryanair and easyJet. Although we hesitated to book tickets on easyJet after reading horror stories online, our flight from the southern Spanish city of Málaga up to Porto couldn’t have gone any smoother (just goes to show you should take all negative airline reviews with a grain of salt!) Flying from Spain to Porto was much cheaper than taking the train, which had been our original plan. Porto is located on a steep hillside overlooking the Duoro River, which historically played a key role in the city’s port wine industry (hence the name, “Porto.”) Long ago, the wine was transported on river barges from vineyards in the Duoro Valley to the city, where it was then aged and shipped to consumers around Europe. Today, port is exported worldwide, but the ships dotting the river are now mostly filled with tourists snapping photos rather than sailors protecting liquid cargo. While downtown Porto is filled with atmospheric old churches and shops (including Livraria Lello, the bookstore that supposedly inspired Harry Potter’s Hogwarts) the narrow streets and vacation crowds made us both claustrophobic after a couple of days. However, Porto still has the feel of a working class fishing community, especially when you venture just outside the city center. We took two small side trips outside the jam-packed downtown that we enjoyed much more than facing the tourist hordes. The first was just across the river to the neighboring town of Vila Nova de Gaia, which has exceptional views of Porto’s burnt orange rooftops and church steeples. Scenic lookout points are just one of its draws, though–Vila Nova de Gaia is home to many famous port producers, which each offer cellar tours and wine tastings. We avoided some of the larger, more commercialized labels in favor of smaller producers like Quinta dos Corvos, which had barely any visitors and offered a tour and tasting bundle for a only a handful of euros. Strolling around Vila Nova de Gaia on a sunny afternoon to sample port at little family owned shops was way more enjoyable than fighting our way into the bustling wine bars of downtown Porto. We also spent an afternoon walking west along the river to the closest beach about a mile and a half from the city center. Porto isn’t exactly ideal for sunbathing; the beaches are quite windy and the water is on the chilly side compared with other destinations on the country’s southern coast. However, the city is close to miles of windswept coastline perfect for long strolls or surfing. After a week of exploring Porto, we hopped on the train to head to Lisbon, our very last destination before flying home to America. I couldn’t believe how quickly our year of adventure was drawing to a close. We’d visited 27 countries and nearly a hundred cities, yet in the blink of an eye, we seemed to have gone from having an endless stretch of months in front of us to just a handful of days. As we sped down the Portuguese coast, I vowed to soak up every last moment–and eat as many pastel de nata tarts as I could. Until next time, adeus from Portugal. ... Read more...
- Málaga: Nine Days on the Golden Costa del Sol
  September 3, 2019Europe / SpainReturning to Spain again was like putting on my favorite well-worn t-shirt: familiar and comforting. Though I love all of Spain, there really aren’t enough words to describe how enchanting the Andalucía region is. Andalucía, bordering the southern coast, is full of white-washed villages, arid mountains, and golden beaches. In my mind, it’s the region that most purely embodies the soul of the country. Mike and I enjoyed it so much when we visited in May that we decided to add a second chapter to our Spanish adventure later in the summer. The coastal city of Málaga, situated within Andalucía on Spain’s famous Costa del Sol, seemed like an ideal place to base ourselves after Morocco–and not only because of its geographic proximity to North Africa. Once an ugly industrial port, Málaga has gotten a major facelift in recent years. A huge chunk of the historic center has been transformed into a pedestrian zone, and the beachfront promenade got completely revamped to make it more appealing to locals and visitors. The city has become a cultural capital with over thirty museums, and there are hundreds of restaurants, from hole-in-the-wall tapas bars to elegant fine dining establishments. And unlike some other cities along Costa del Sol (which some argue have been spoiled by tourism), Málaga has retained a distinctly Spanish vibe. Yet for some reason, most tourists still make a beeline to the less attractive resort areas that surround Málaga. Beaches, museums, tapas, sangria…and a lack of crowds? Sign me up! But before we could dive in to Málaga’s culinary scene and wealth of cultural activities, we had to focus on getting better. The stomach bug that incapacitated us in Morocco drove us to make an appointment with a Spanish doctor, which ended up being a memorable experience in and of itself. The elderly gastroenterologist we visited was a one-man operation without a receptionist or a computer. He also did not speak a word of English (thank you, JMU, for that medical Spanish class I took senior year!) Luckily he soon sent us on our merry way with some strong antibiotics. After a few days, our stomachs finally returned to a semblance of normalcy. Fortunately, we’d booked an Airbnb for nine days (one of our all time favorite rentals, it was a bright, renovated studio in a historic building), so we had time to recover without feeling like we were missing out on exploring the city. We spent most mornings relaxing in the apartment before heading out for long walks in the afternoons. We visited the Málaga Cathedral, nicknamed “La Manquita” (Spanish for “one-armed lady”) for its lopsided appearance. Constructed between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, the builders ran out of funds before the south tower could be completed. The cathedral has stood unfinished ever since, but it’s far from being an eyesore. Its unique look has become a symbol of Málaga and a funky source of pride for its citizens. While the interior of the cathedral was impressive, we loved the rooftop even more. There were amazing views of the gleaming sapphire-blue Mediterranean, as well as the Alcazaba, an eleventh century Moorish fort hovering over the city that’s like a mini version of Granada’s Alhambra. Málaga has a rich history. The city was originally inhabited by Romans, whose presence is apparent in the ancient Roman Theater unearthed in the city center in the 1950s during a construction project. Today the restored theater still hosts performances, which isn’t bad for a space originally constructed in the first century B.C.! Málaga was also ruled by Moors for hundreds of years, as was much of the Iberian peninsula. Moorish rulers built the Alcazaba in the 1000s and didn’t leave until the Catholic Reconquest of Spain in the 1400s, when they were driven back to North Africa. In order to seize the fort, Christian forces surrounded it and cut off all the entrances. After four months, the Moorish occupants inside, who had been slowly starving to death, finally surrendered. Yikes. Although the Alcazaba doesn’t come close to matching the Alhambra in beauty or scale, it’s still a tranquil place to wander for a couple of hours. Inside its fortressed walls, visitors can walk through old palace rooms, lush gardens, and take in lovely sea views. In true Spanish form, there’s even a bar inside, so if admiring old architecture isn’t your thing, you can always sip on a tinto de verano instead. What is a tinto de verano, you may ask? Possibly the most perfect summer drink invented. The name of the beverage, which literally translates to “summer red”, consists of red table wine mixed with sparkling lemonade or Fanta. It’s like a lighter version of sangria, and it tastes especially refreshing on hot afternoons. Once our stomachs felt better, we had fun figuring out which establishment in town made the best one (if you go to Málaga, order a tinto at a tapas bar called Las Merchanas–theirs is pure fizzy perfection.) We didn’t make it to all thirty of Málaga’s museums (that would’ve been a tall order, even for nine days!) but we did see two acclaimed ones, the Picasso Museum (the famous artist was born and raised in Málaga) and the Carmen Thyssen (which has a captivating collection of nineteenth century Spanish art.) We’re not typically into art museums, but one nice thing about Málaga’s is their small, manageable size. You only need an hour or two to see everything, so you don’t walk out feeling like you only saw a fraction of the collection. Even better, most of Málaga’s museums offer discounts for students, teachers, and senior citizens. And on Sunday afternoons, there’s free entry for everyone. Of course, we couldn’t linger for days on the Costa del Sol without enjoying the sea. We spent two straight days lounging on the city beach, Malagueta, which was only a twenty minute walk from our apartment. There are undoubtedly more beautiful beaches elsewhere in Spain, but Malagueta was so conveniently located, we didn’t care about its rough, rocky sand. It was easy to rent sunbeds for the day there for only a few euros, then kick back with cold beers purchased from passing hawkers. The weather couldn’t have been better–warm without being too hot, with a delightful Mediterranean breeze. The ocean was a great temperature for swimming, too–refreshing but not freezing. Each evening, we would reluctantly, but contentedly, pack up our beach gear and make our way slowly home. Evening is the best time of day in Málaga. As the sun slowly fades and dusk settles in, the city is cast in warm, golden tones. Ladies hang laundry to dry on tiny wrought-iron balconies. Beachgoers leisurely plod home, damp towels slung over their shoulders. Tapas bars closed for siesta throw their doors open again, welcoming patrons in with soft lighting and the scents of traditional Spanish snacks like tortilla española, jamón ibérico, and morcilla. There’s something magical about summer nights in Spain; a languid, cozy aura I can’t quite fully explain. I could have lingered in Spain for the rest of the summer (or forever), but our nine wonderful days were soon up, and it was time to head to our very last stop, neighboring Portugal. Our trip was rapidly winding down, but I knew I would keep a piece of the sun-drenched Costa del Sol in my heart, a little slice of light to illuminate some future dark winter night. Until next time, adios from Spain. ... Read more...