It’s been over two years since Eleonora first shared her cheeky guide for “Useful Italian Words and Phrases.“ Travel Belles, we think it’s time for the next step.

Italian men are known for their wooing techniques, and American women are frequently warned of the ploys of the flirtatious Italian ragazzi. But why wait passively for the inevitable seduction? Here are a few key Italian love phrases you can use in every occasion, to take charge of the conversation situation.

Flirting
Dove sei stato tutta la mia vita? {DOHve · say · STAHtoe · TOOtah · la · MEEah · VEEtah}
Where have you been all my life?

Mi fai sciogliere come gelato al sole. {me · fahEE · SHOyehRE · KOHmey · JElahTOE · ahl · SOHley}
You make me melt like ice cream in the sun.

Qual’è la tua vespa la fuori? {kwalEH · lah · TOOah · VESSpah · lah · foo OH ree?}
Which one’s your vespa parked outside?

After the 3rd date
Tesoro mio… {tehZORRO · meeOH}
My treasure…

Sono pazza di te. {SOHknow · PAHtza · dee · teh}
I am crazy about you.

Mi piace il tuo appartamento. {me · PEEatche · eel · TOOoh · AHppartMEHNtoe}
I like your apartment.

In the bedroom
Finalmente soli {feeNAHLmenTAY · SOHlee}
Alone at last

Spogliati! {SPOHyeeAHtee}
Take your clothes off!

Spogliami! {SPOHyeeAHmee}
Take my clothes off!

Svegliati, e ricominciamo {svehYAHtee · eh · reeKOHMeenCHAHmoe}
Wake up, and get back to business

On the phone
Ti penso sempre. {tee · PEHNsow · SEMpray}
I’m always thinking of you.

Mi manchi! {me · MAHNkey}
I miss you!

Ho comprato il biglietto aereo. {OH · kohmPRAHtoe · eel · beejEHtoe · AHehREHoh}
I bought my airline ticket.

With his parents
Amo vostro figlio. {AHmoe · VOHStroe · FEEyo}
I’m in love with your son.

Sono una ragazza tutta casa e chiesa… giuro! {SOHknow · OOnah · rahGAHtza · TOOTtah · CAHsa · eh · KEYehsah… JEWrow}
I’m a real “hearth and home” gal… I swear!

Non saprò mai cucinare come lei, Signora. {known · SAHproh · MAHee · kooCHInahREY · KOHme · lay · seeNIOrah}
I’ll never be able to cook as well as you, Ma’am.

At the altar
Si lo voglio. {SEE · loh · voYO}
I do.

Per sempre. {pehr · SEHMpreh}
Forever.

Sei mio adesso. {SAY · meeOH · adehSOH}
You’re mine now.

*Photo by Sergey Ivanov

On the outskirts of Paris, a place for expos and exploration

I’ll admit I didn’t want to live at Porte de Versailles when I first stumbled upon the listing for what would later become my home, at the far end of Paris’ 15th arrondissement. I was a little bit scared by the “Porte de” in the title, a prefix that, in my limited experience thus far in my adopted city, meant a neighborhood that bordered the banlieue and was therefore not the sort of place that one wanted to wander alone at night.

I was, however, pleasantly surprised when I visited the Haussmanien suburban apartment that I ended up renting for several months, in a neighborhood that bordered, not one of the areas to the North of Paris that became famous for car-burnings in the early 2000s, but some of the more affluent areas South of the city, including Versailles and its famed château. When my French boyfriend and I decided to move in together nearly a year ago, I was quite pleased when we found an apartment just up the block so that I could remain in my little corner of the 15th, an area characterized by families and small businesses, and infrequently visited by tourists, save during the professional salons at the Parc des Expositions.

Salon du Chocolat – October
It’s strange the way things that occur right under your nose tend to go unnoticed. I lived next to the Parc des Expositions for three months before I realized what it was for, and it was only thanks to a friend that on Halloween – a holiday that is generally ignored by my adopted countrymen – we bought €12 tickets to a chocolate extravaganza.

The true purpose of the Parc des Expositions – or Parc des Expos, as it’s called in France, a country that likes slang even more than America – is to host professional salons, so that those in the industry of motorcycles, deep-sea fishing, golf, real estate, hairstyling and more can come together in one place to discover the newest innovations in their chosen milieu. All salons, however, are open to the public for a nominal fee, which is how we found ourselves in a chocolate version of Disney Land.

The pavilions were set up with stands, each devoted to a different company. Some were international conglomerates, like Lindt; others were tiny chocolate-makers, unknown to us, like the company behind the Esperantine de Marseilles, which makes a tiny chocolate shaped like an olive leaf, flavored with almonds, orange and olive oil – the flavors of the south of France.

Whether big or small, famous or unknown, what drew us to each of the stands as we perused the aisles was the chocolate; free samples were being offered at every turn, generally as an incentive to purchase, though few were pushy as we sampled a bit from each tray, listening as representatives told us about the particularities of this or that treat.

“No sugar,” one woman said as we tasted a delicious sample of dark chocolate. “Perfect as a gift for a diabetic.”

“We use olive oil as the fat,” another told us. “It gives it a unique flavor, don’t you agree?”

I do agree. I agree so much that, even though I’m not a huge chocolate fan, I bought a couple things to bring home with me and mark the Salon du Chocolat on my calendar for next year.

Salon du Vin – November
The only downside to the Salon du Chocolat was attending on a weekend; naturally, that’s the time when everyone is trying to get in, and one generally has the impression of being a sardine. Luckily, I had the opportunity to attend the Salon du Vin with my work, as an intern at a wine-tasting company, which meant that not only was I able to go during the work week, when there were fewer people (it was a work related event!), but more vendors were willing to give me free samples of their wares.

The two other interns and I attended the Salon; our Americanness (more my fellow intern’s than mine – she’s better at smiling than I am) had vendors falling in love with us, and so not only were we provided with free samples of several different varieties of wine and Champagne, but we were also treated to an in-depth explanation of wine production from nearly every vendor, explaining the ways in which his products differed from others.

We didn’t carry a box of wine out with us, but we did get free Salon du Vin wine glasses, as everyone who attends does. As an added plus, on our way out, we were treated to free, disposable breathalyzer tests. It’s lucky I live just across the street.

Salon de l’Agriculture – February
The Salon de l’Agriculture is one of the most famous in Paris; in the two years I’ve been living near Porte de Versailles, I’ve associated it mainly with traffic jams and tourists in my generally quiet neighborhood. I had no interest in going until a friend proposed that we spend an afternoon there, and as it was a weekday, I crossed my fingers that we wouldn’t have to battle crowds and said yes.

I was pleasantly surprised to arrive, pay a €6 student entry fee, and have the whole of the Parc des Expos to wander. Because the Salon de l’Agriculture is so large, even when there are hundreds of people attending, you don’t feel nearly as crowded as at its chocolate version.

As far as I knew, the greatest draw to the Salon de l’Agriculture was farm animals, which small Parisian children beg and plead their parents to take them to see. My boyfriend, who hails from a small town in France’s Sologne, guffawed when I said I would be going and then proceeded to make fun of the idea of a city kid looking at baby animals for about an hour.

I proved him wrong.

While the Salon de l’Agriculture is home to many, many animals for several days (including some that are born on the premises), it’s also a haven for foodies, looking to gorge on regional specialties. Free samples are the name of the game here, and my friend and I were, once again, treated to blatant flirtation and free food from well-meaning French gentlemen.

After too many samples to count and some very careful deliberation, we each selected the products we liked best from an endless array of cheeses, smoked meats, cookies, cakes, liqueurs, wines and chocolates, and, finally, made some purchases. Next year, I’ll be going with a fuller wallet … and a suitcase.

*Salon du Chocolat photo by EverJean. Others by and property of the author. 

 Letting go of the cellphone and the best laid plan

As soon as I learned I’d be celebrating a milestone anniversary in Costa Rica, I jumped at the chance to solidify my status as Oldest and Sharpest Globetrotting Friend. The vacation was nearly two months away, but it was never too early to aim for the gold. Four other adults would join us, and just this once I wanted to grab center stage as the quintessentially organized and enthusiastic travel companion who just happened to have encyclopedic knowledge of Central America and its sight-seeing attractions, authentic restaurants and bargain gas stations.

Although I hadn’t traveled out of the country in nearly a decade, I was no novice to the whole pack ‘n’ go thing. I had the mandatory Fodor’s, I had a money converter; best of all, I had a cell phone.

But that’s exactly when things went awry. In my haste to dance to the digital tune of “travel hostess with the mostest,” I missed a few steps. First off, an Internet search told me my current cell phone would be rendered useless once I deboarded in San Jose. It had to go; I needed a fully-functioning phone to call home and check on my kids: four-footed furry house guests who loved me even with morning breath and spin-cycle hair. My companion animals – four dogs and one hairy cat at last count – needed to know I cared. And I needed to know they were behaving normally: snoring on the couch, scarfing up meals and striking fear in the heart of burglar wannabes.

When it arrived a few days later, I eyed it suspiciously as I figured any cautious second-owner would. I even took it for a physical checkup at Radio Shack, where I purchased a charger and heard a boring spiel on foreign codes I needed to know by heart to connect from Costa Rica to the good old U.S.A.

Lift-off finally arrived on a dark, stormy night – nah, it was a clear May evening, which boded well, I thought. I managed to nap on our overnight flight from Phoenix, but after gulping two double lattes with espresso during the layover in Dallas, I was wired all the way to San Jose. Even so, the air turbulence hardly fazed me. When the plane touched down, I was so remarkably calm I even managed to refrain from jamming both feet on the hydraulic brakes our friendly pilot had relocated to the seat in front of me.

My excellent kharma continued as I arrived at the baggage claim and watched my friends grabbing for their luggage at the carousel. I had coordinated our arrival times perfectly so I was ready to accept all pats on the back. But first, of course, I needed to purchase my prepaid calling card. It was almost too easy. The vendor kiosk was adjacent to the carousel. Unlocked phone in hand, I made my way through the crowd.

Five minutes later I concluded nothing was as easy as it seemed. Gone was my dream of snaring the title of Costa Rica’s Vacationer Extraordinaire, and it was all because of the ‘locked’ status (surprise!) of my phone. This diagnosis instantly turned the electronic gadget into a useless lump of plastic. To make matters worse, I succeeded in getting in touch with my anger to the extent that I began having dark thoughts about the vendor, certain he had intentionally flunked my phone on its test run so I’d purchase a brand new unlocked one from him. But that theory crashed and burned when the vendor calmly informed me he didn’t sell phones.

That was the kiss of death. I concluded that the eBay seller had suckered me. Or else – but this was a long shot – he was as dimwitted as me. Either way I was incommunicado – this after reassuring my friends that, yes, I – the anointed one and bearer of the Olympic torch of hassle-free vacations – was in full possession of a cheap, convenient way of calling the States.

The irony was that although my communications efforts had gone south along with my self-respect, my friends didn’t bat an eyelash. Everyone piled into the car and six hours later, we arrived on the west coast. The next day I found out Costa Rica’s tourist areas offered public phone cubbies to call the USA. You had to buy time and dial about a thousand numbers – plus compete with traffic and other street noises – but phones were available and for a less-than-prohibitive price.

I won’t easily forget Costa Rica’s tropical rainforests, fishing boats, winding roads, monster lizards or brightly colored parrots, but whenever I call up these friendly memories, I also think, “Buzz off eBay.” Sometimes frugality is not the greater part of wisdom.

*Photo by CannedTuna

Indianapolis may be famous for fast cars, but there’s plenty more to see in this Midwest city

There’s no better time to visit Indianapolis, Indiana than in the spring, when it’s party time here in the Hoosier Heartland. That’s because of the most celebrated sporting event in town (and, no, it doesn’t involve a football, basketball, baseball or tennis ball). I’m talking about the Indianapolis 500-Mile Race, said to be the largest single-day spectator event in the world (although, by tradition, the exact count of tickets sold is never released publicly).

The schedule of dinners, galas and other events themed to this late-spring event brings out the best in party dresses. Insiders know that the togs should be racing colors: white or black (to match the checkered flag that signals the start and end of the Indy 500), or the signal flag colors of green, yellow or red.

The race will take place on May 27 and is sure to fill Indianapolis with energy and enthusiasm. It’s the perfect time to see this Midwest city in all its glory.

1. Even if you don’t want to shop and you’re not planning to be in town for the race, you can head out to the Westside of the city and check out the Indianapolis Motor Speedway any day of the year. If the famed oval raceway isn’t in use for testing – always a risk in the weeks leading up to the race – plunk down $5 for a ride around the track on a narrated minibus tour. Otherwise, fork over $5 for a ticket to get into the Hall of Fame Museum. It’s always open, with some 75 vehicles on display at any one time. They range from previous race winners to classic automobiles.

2. Another nickname for Indianapolis is the Circle City – a moniker earned by the street design downtown, which is fashioned after the layout of Washington, D.C. There’s a circle right in the center of the grid of the Mile Square. It was originally intended to be the site of the Indiana governor’s mansion but no governor’s wife was willing to live in such a visible location. For more than a century, it’s been anchored by the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument, dedicated in 1902 to honor those who served in the military. Sit on the steps or climb to the top for a great view of the city.

Bonus: Monument Circle is a free Wi-Fi zone, not to mention a great place for an al fresco lunch.

3. Your next “must” stop gives a closer look at an Indy author whose fame was secured quite by accident. Kurt Vonnegut – a third-generation Hoosier of German descent – was a German prisoner of war when Dresden was firebombed by the Allies in 1945. His experiences provided the basis of Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade, published in 1969 against the backdrop of the social upheaval during America’s war in Vietnam. Learn all about him at the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library, which opened just last year in downtown Indianapolis.

4. By now, you’re probably hungry. Sure, there are all sorts of fancy places to eat in town, but my recommendation for stop number four is to try some good, down-home cooking at one of our cafeterias. Jane and Michael Stern, who have turned their Roadfood excursions into a publishing juggernaut, recently called Indianapolis the “nation’s cafeteria nexus” and recommended these three “square meal shrines”: Jonathan Byrd’s in Greenwood (check out the turkey pot pie), Gray Brothers Cafeteria in Mooresville (try chicken and noodles here) or my personal favorite, Shapiro’s Delicatessen just south of downtown Indy. I never order anything there except lox and cream cheese on a bagel followed by strawberry cheesecake, but deli fanatics swear by its corned beef on rye.

5. A bit of sophisticated culture seems in order at this point, so for your next destination, roll on out to the spacious grounds of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Not only are there the usual galleries with all the paintings, etchings and sculptures you’d expect to see at a major museum, but there’s also something quite unusual: 100 Acres: The Virginia B. Fairbanks Art & Nature Park. An outdoor gallery on (surprise!) 100 acres that includes woodlands, wetlands, meadows and a 35-acre lake, this is one of the largest museum art parks in the country, and the only one to feature the ongoing commission of site-specific artworks. Take the time to wander – 100 Acres is open every day from dawn until dusk.

6. Speaking of wandering, Indy also boasts one of the largest municipal parks, Eagle Creek. Legend has it that Daniel Boone carved his initials into a tree not too far from the park’s Nature Center. There are almost 4,000 acres of parkland plus 1,400 acres of water. The park is centered on Eagle Creek Reservoir on the city’s northwest side. Visitors can rent pontoon boats, go swimming at a sandy beach, hike on the 22 miles of marked trails, enjoy a picnic lunch or spend a quiet afternoon bird watching.

7. Now, Travel Belles, let’s do some serious shopping. Sure, there are shopping malls in and around Indianapolis, but for some locally owned options head to Massachusetts Avenue. One of the city’s original Cultural Districts, Mass Ave has a vibe all its own. Look for art galleries, bars and boutiques plus independent eateries along this diagonal street just northeast of downtown. 

Need a refreshment? My absolute favorite restaurant, R Bistro, anchors the far end of Mass Ave. Menus change weekly to take advantage of locally available seasonal ingredients. You might want to stop for a beer at the Rathskeller, found in the cellar of the Athenaeum Building (designed by Kurt Vonnegut’s grandfather). This Bavarian-style restaurant and bar is said to be the oldest continually operating eatery in Indy.

8. Speaking of things cultural, don’t miss a chance to experience Indy’s Cultural Trail. A unique urban experiment that’s not quite finished, the eight-mile trail is a bike and pedestrian path connecting neighborhoods and Cultural Districts (there are five downtown, including Mass Ave). It also serves as the downtown hub for the entire central Indiana Greenways system. In addition to plantings and benches, there’s informational signage and lots of public art.

9. Indianapolis means “city of Indians” and you can indeed learn about indigenous cultures in the Circle City. Just meander on over to the Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art. This isn’t a stuffy, historical kind of museum with musty buffalo heads, beaded moccasins and panoramas of the Grand Canyon. There are Western classics by Remington and O’Keeffe to be sure, but check out the artwork by contemporary Native Americans that is showcased along with a wide variety of temporary exhibits. Steel Ponies, open through August 5, explores the art, history and cultures that have developed around the motorcycle. If you can, time your visit to take in the 20th Indian Market and Festival, set for June 23 and 24.

10. A personal favorite rounds out my list of 10 things to see and do in Indianapolis: the Children’s Museum. OK, I know what you’re thinking; only visitors with small children would be interested in a stop here. Not true. Adults are just as transfixed as kids by the 26.5-foot Water Clock, which tells time with 100 metal pieces, 40 glass pieces and 70 gallons of a water/methyl alcohol mixture. Those who love the glass art of Dale Chihuly are fascinated by the 43-foot Fireworks of Glass, his largest permanent sculpture, with more than 3,200 pieces of glass in the sculpture itself and an additional 1,600 in the ceiling.

*First photograph by momentcaptured1, all others by and property of the author

A Travel Belle learns to rough it in the untamed wilderness of Argentina

I poked my head out of the small opening of the tent, my sleeping bag still cocooned around me as I peered at the Fitz Roy Mountain. I had hoped the clouds disguising its peak would have subsided. It was my third day in Argentina’s Los Glaciares National Park with my boyfriend, Michael, and his cousin, Evan. The towering mountain was partially hidden behind a thick veil of cloud and it appeared stubbornly comfortable.

As I sat hunched over my porridge, shovelling it into my mouth, I thought of the day ahead. Previous to this trip to Argentina, my hiking experience could have been summed up to a bi-annual walk up a hill in my locality that soars just above 950 feet. That day, though, our planned route was a circuit in which we would cover about 12 miles. Our stomachs achingly full with porridge and our small bags packed for the day, we ventured off to enjoy more of the spectacular, undisturbed beauty that permeates this national park.

That day we encountered the varied terrains of Los Glaciares, which we had grown to adore. Between scrambling over boulders, steering around glaciers and trekking through forests scattered with wild horses, we found ourselves struggling against the wind and attempting to avoid the whipping rain. As we trudged toward our campsite unable to discern whether we were dripping with rain or sweat, our minds were focused on the fact that that evening we would return to the luxury of an already pitched tent. Unfortunately, the Patagonian weather intervened and quickly quenched that warming thought as we arrived to a tent wrestled to the ground and bearing battle scars of rips and tears.

With an hour of daylight remaining, the ever-practical Michael rustled through his backpack and produced a small sewing kit. Our fingers worked furiously as we operated on the open wounds of the canvas, looping the thread anxiously, our eyes straining as dusk was falling heavily upon us.

Satisfied with our hurried work we pitched our tent at a more sheltered and crowded site just above where we had been. While the outer layer of the tent was temporarily repaired, our bag of tricks did not contain any remedies for a broken tent pole. With no other option, we pitched the tent – lame pole and all – and settled in for an uneasy night, listening to the tormenting and threatening wind willing our invalid shelter to last the night.

We awoke the following morning, tent still intact and our shaken nerves calmed. As I emerged I looked ahead to a clearing in the trees. After that unfortunate night I had a glimmer of hope that today we would see Fitz Roy in its entirety. As I gazed ahead, I could see … clouds.

While Los Glaciares claimed our tent and denied us our perfect view, I left with a proverbial spring in my step, having learned that I can rough it and Michael can sew.

If you don’t have a dream, how can you have a dream come true? – Jiminy Cricket

Across the Cafe Table is turning one this month and we’re talking about traveling birthday celebrations! Let’s discuss the dream trip you would like to be feted with for your birthday someday. Dazzle, surprise, inspire, wow each other… dream big!  Share with us how you plan your big trips or maybe some specifics of what you’d like to do. Who would turn down a private jet and a week or two in the Maldives? If that’s your dream, go for it! But when we ask you to ”dream big,” we don’t mean that it has to be something that’s forever out of reach. Get creative!

If you’re like many of us you may find myself asking things like “Can I afford this?!!” “How’s the weather in June when my  birthday is?” “Will I be able to get off work?” Our advice to you is to put these questions aside for now. Just take the first step. Pick a place your curious about or one that you’ve always wanted to visit, and start dreaming and planning.

Answer on your own blog and link up below, or simply comment here, on Facebook or in our Community. We always leave the linking tool up for a week or two, so don’t hesitate to come back and join us in a day or two!

Margo’s answer can be read over here on her blog. She also made a Pinterest board to get her planning started. If you would like to play on Pinterest, you can link your board below instead of doing a post, or do both!

Briana’s answer:

Here at The Travel Belles, we like to dream big when it comes to getting out there and seeing the world. And for a birthday, well, bigger is even better!

I’ve been very fortunate to have already taken some dream trips, but one that I haven’t done yet is India. So much about the country and its culture intrigues me, and I would love to experience it all – the cuisine, colors, music, dance, history – first hand.

One of the things I would undoubtedly include on my itinerary is a yoga retreat. I’ve practiced yoga for several years now, so to experience it in the place where it began so many years ago would certainly be inspiring and enlightening. Then after improving body and wind with yoga, I would indulge the food-lover in me by taking a cooking course. Indian cuisine is so vibrant and flavorful, and bringing that tradition home with me would be the best souvenir.

I would also check out the main attractions – of course the Taj Mahal is on my list – and spend mornings at the markets and bazaars searching for treasures. And who wouldn’t want to see a lively dance or music show as well?

Someone recently described India to me as a “whack at the senses” for first-time visitors, and I would certainly indulge all five of them if I turned this dream birthday trip into reality.

Now tell us, what’s your dream birthday trip? Link up below if answering on your own blog, being sure to link back to this post! Or link to a Pinterest board you’ve started for your dream trip. Also please remember to use the hashtag #cafechat!

Photo in public domain via Wikipedia