I attempt to process what’s happening around the world by reflecting on where I am.

The morning after the terrorist attacks in Paris, I was glued to my devices, ingesting every update. At some point I needed to peel myself away from the news. So I went for a run in Tempelhof Airport Park, my usual spot in Berlin, to get some fresh air and to try and clear my head.

As I made my way down the runway, I noticed in front of the old terminal building the German flag flying at half-mast in honor of the victims in Paris, a gesture of solidarity and shared grief. The changeable arc of history was not lost on me: Germany and France, now friends, had once been at war with one another not that long ago.

In what I might call a historical flipbook moment, I considered the near constant state of change of this place where I was running.

In the mid-1930s, the airport terminal was rebuilt to be the largest building in the world, a symbol of Nazi power. During World War II, it was the site of a forced labor camp. Between 1948 and 1949, Tempelhof Airport was ground zero for the Berlin Airlift as Allied troops delivered food and supplies to the people of West Berlin during the Soviet blockade. The airport continued to serve commercial flights until it closed in 2008, after which the entire site became Berlin’s largest public park. Now it stands as a remarkable, if unceremonious, symbol of freedom and openness where everyone — from bearded hipsters to headscarved Turkish mothers — walk, picnic and thrive in common space.

Most recently, the Tempelhof terminal building became a shelter for 1,000 refugees, many of whom fled the war in Syria.

In stride, I continued to turn over the events in Paris and the attacks in Beirut and Baghdad earlier in the week. It seemed fitting that I would do so in the temporary mental refuge of a place that once symbolized humanity’s worst, yet now seeks to embody its best.

One of the techniques I use as a travel writer is to examine where I am in order to find perspective. As I communicate place, I consider the layers of history. I examine what is, versus what has been. I give air to what could be. Are there lessons I can take away? Can I find balance amidst it all?

As I ran in Berlin, thinking about Paris, some thoughts came to mind to help move me forward from what happened this past weekend. Maybe you’ll find them helpful, too.

1. So many things in life are out of our control.

Travel teaches me this lesson constantly. I see it firsthand as circumstances great and small unfold against the grain of my plans and expectations. But when our sense of security and freedom has been pierced by an act of violence or terrorism, we feel especially vulnerable and helpless.

This is natural, but it doesn’t change the fact that so much of what happens around us is fundamentally outside of our control. In fact, it underscores it.

2. How we choose to respond is in our control.

I am on a permanent journey of coming to terms with #1.

I don’t believe my acknowledgement of circumstances is a kind of fatalism. It’s a recognition that while a great deal is out of my hands, there’s still much I can do, many opportunities where I can exert influence. At the same time, I accept limits and understand that I may not always be able to prevent “bad” things from happening. However, I don’t allow these limits to restrict me, but rather to focus me and lend scope to my efforts.

So instead of shrinking from what is, I observe it, unpack it and ask myself, “What’s the most productive way I can respond?” Sure, I find that much easier said than done, particularly when my sense of what is “productive” shifts, as it’s apt to do.

Regardless, there remains an empowering takeaway: our response is our choice.

3. Consider your fears.

As I reflect on what is right and appropriate for me, I honor my fears by considering them. I’m not going to beat my chest and advise you to deny your fears and take on the world. There are plenty of good reasons to be frightened. However, question your fears. What are you afraid of? Why? What is at the root? Where will your fears take you?

At first pass, this may not be satisfying. It might even be nauseating. But there’s the potential for two very productive things to happen as you do. Examination of the root of your fears can yield new information, and consideration of this information can prevent you from self-destructively acting on impulse.

In the face of atrocity, it’s natural to want to protect yourself by retreating to safety, by building a wall made of bricks of fear. Before you do, know what that fear is made of at its foundation. Also, re-consider item #1 and think on what it really means to be safe.

4. My front of choice: Focusing on how I engage with others.

After feeling angry that the world “shouldn’t be this way” and frustrated by not having any control over what has happened, I found a sense of empowerment in how I can choose to respond.

I choose to honor my life and the lifestyle that I value, and to honor the humanity that I am one of, one with. From those core values — the big things — I progressed to the little things. There’s power in the little things. Always will be.

As I passed other people during my run — some on their own, others with children, some in hats, others in headscarves – I made a point to acknowledge each of them, maybe even to smile. This is my response.

I find that making a conscious effort to engage people with kindness and a greeting makes me feel more connected to those around me. After an unsettling event like the attacks in Paris, I notice others making this effort, too. Whether its the guys originally from Lebanon throwing pies for years at the corner pizza joint or the old German guy who owns the cheese shop down the street, they all understand that despite the initial appearance of insignificance, simple interactions are how we build and rebuild connection and goodwill.

5. Reject the wedge, the divide.

Make no mistake, terrorism of the sort we witnessed in Paris is designed to injure and it relies on the ensuing pain and grief as a lever to turn one group of people in a society against another. It’s a deliberate attempt to construct a narrative — the “us vs. them” narrative — where there really is only us.

We can counter the barbarity of terrorism by being better than it, to choose to engage even more within our community. We can practice empathy and try to understand what others have gone through, what they are still suffering with now. No, it won’t always be easy. But in the shadow of pain, it is our best way forward.

6. If you are inclined to cancel your travel plans, reconsider.

There are plenty of good reasons why you might be pulling back on that booked or almost-booked trip to Paris or wherever else. If you are, I can’t fault you for being scared. I’ve been on that edge myself; I know how it feels. All I can suggest is that you pause and reconsider. Living in fear and canceling plans to insulate yourself from the “other” are exactly what terrorists would like you to do.

Travel is one of the best ways to say “no.”

We have control over how we choose to act and how we engage with others. This constant gives each of us power in the face of atrocities meant to instill fear and hate.

In this, I find strength. I also find hope.

The post Responding to Terrorist Attacks: A Traveler’s Perspective, Moving Forward from Fear appeared first on Uncornered Market.

A few thoughts on how to find the essence of a place, and I suppose ultimately the essence of life — told through a long weekend in Strasbourg, France. It's about how a fully cooked itinerary might actually get in the way of getting what I really came for in the first place.

A few weekends ago, Audrey and I traveled to Strasbourg, France — a town ostensibly in France, but Germanic under the skin. An Alsatian town. We’d been there twice before for the same reason we’d come for this third time: a wine exhibition featuring 600 independent vintners from across France. (More on that soon.)

There were no specific items on our itinerary other than the wine tasting event. Perhaps previously we would have carried a short checklist of must-sees. I’m not sure if it’s the nature of the place Strasbourg, but this time our visit inexplicably seemed to defy the need for such a thing.

Or maybe we’re at the point in our lives where we can extract meaning and pleasure, joy and satisfaction by admiring the little things, those tiny details of life that whoosh, drift and tick by in inimitably local ways.

Such as it was in Strasbourg.

Strasbourg Wakes Up

When we first arrived in town, it was by way of an early morning train from Basel, Switzerland where we’d flown in on inhumanely early flight from Berlin. Upon landing, we'd hopped a bus to the local train station and caught the regional train. At the Strasbourg main train station, we were welcomed by the bouncy little signature tune of SNCF (the French railway) over the PA system. Kids hummed the earworm, so did we.

The whole thing was terribly French. I don’t think any other country could pull off this tune with a straight face.

From the train station we stumbled out onto cobblestones and light rail lines carving themselves through the city. Early morning gray, people cycled. And yes, bad things sometimes happen: an older woman on a bicycle got caught in one of the rails and fell over as she tried to escape the clutches of an aggressive street sweeper. Passers-by yelled, children cried. Early morning drama!

Meanwhile, women exited cafes boulangeries with several baguettes clutched tightly under their arms, men too.

Stores began to open, as did shutters. Ah Mediterranean shutters. So French. Old, wooden, splintered, often beautiful if not sometimes muted colors. Vegetable and fruit shops and vendors slowly leaked out onto the sidewalks, filling their bare shelves with wintery European root vegetables complemented with crates of tropical fruit, much of which came from former French colonies in Africa.

The sense of style in these shops overwhelmed. Everyone appeared stylish. It was important to them, even in the smallest of ways. Maybe not to own a lot of clothing, but to have a few — even if a little expensive — items that were to them worthy of wear.

And then there is the French institution of the sidewalk cafe, the place where all chairs and tables are turned in the direction of the street, of passers-by, of life — so that customers sit on one side of the table while they unabashedly spy, ogle and visually deconstruct the flow in unimaginable ways as they quaff their morning warmth. This is the daily beat, an easing into the day, one where your place, your connection to the environment around you is confirmed.

Yes, this is so totally French.

A little bit of Germany in France

Meanwhile the buildings in the center, in old town and a little neighborhood where we’d find ourselves called La Petite France, would look something German. The wood plank siding and whitewash with a splash of color here and there. (I would later learn that this architectural style is referred to as half-timbered.) Terra cotta and painted tile rooftops that survived for centuries (they avoided the war, clearly) buckled and sagged slightly, perceptibly.

Buildings were just impossible to photograph with a mind to straight lines, for there were no straight lines. I imagined, wondered: were the buildings built off-center? Or had they slowly settled to the their positions today from hundreds of years of sinking into the ground? A little bit of both perhaps?

This — this appreciation — was not really on the itinerary.

We made our way further into the center, along walkways, bridges and locks. The views, even under cloud cover and muted sky were abundantly beautiful, charming, romantic.

Strasbourg was built along waterways for function, for safety and protection, but much like Amsterdam actually, it could be said that it must have been built to capture our sense of romance.

Strasbourg, this place, struck me as an almost perfect spot to dose oneself with a little French culture, a little German culture. A little taste of each, cleaved along once firm borders.

Cafes, Blood Sausage and Pornographic Plates

Just down the street a little cafe decked in chartreuse and metal folding chairs with wood slat seats and back panels seemed to say, “Please admire me, the way I look.”

This is France. It wasn't on the itinerary.

Guidebooks don’t tell you to look for this, because frankly it's beyond the grasp of lists. The feeling, the moment transcends the bullet point. In fact, the more you focus on the list, the more likely you are to miss it. Resonance does not belong on a checklist, but if you don’t make note of it, you miss it. And you’ve missed something you should have come for all along. You’ve missed your opportunity to catch and to articulate the essence of the place in details, in tiny waves that spin the head and leave a sense nothing short of small wonder.

Like any good patisserie or cafe, this one had run out of croissants early that morning. Once you get your first taste, you’ll know why. It's bad for me, it's addictive, it's drug-like. I don't care. For joy, I'm going to bathe in it for a short while. I missed my butter and flaky layers for the moment, but I knew it would yet be delivered.

For lunch, we ducked into a bistrot decorated in local bits and bobs, ochre walls, bright red chairs. It featured a hand-written (more like scribbled) sign in the window showcasing that day’s lunch menu, one that was reasonably priced.

In La Choucrouterie (connected to Théâtre de la Chouc'routerie), we ordered the daily specials — German blood sausages (don’t judge until you’ve tried it), shallot gravy, scalloped potatoes (the latter two I now associate with France more than ever) and delightfully fresh apple sauce. German at the heart, finished by France. Strasbourg.

Our fish pasta, while abundant with fish, wasn’t amazing, but when finished with a dose of the Alsatian Pinto Gris recommended by the waitress, I couldn't find a lot of fault. I felt it. I couldn't bring myself to do dessert, even for the mere 1€ extra. I felt a bit guilty.

But the real star of the meal was what we found on our plates when we finished our food. A French sense of bawdy humor polished with a bit of German-inspired light obscenity. We could not make this up if we tried.

Finding Place in a Local Bakery

The following morning we went looking for breakfast, but the bakery on our street was closed. Where would we get our morning croissants?

In France a quest and question of utmost importance that borders on panic.

We poked around a corner through an alleyway, past some colorful Strasbourgian homes whose windows were thrown open, duvets and pillows folded over the sills, spilling out to air.

Air the bedding, this is Europe. This was not on the itinerary.

Only one of the two bakeries on the street was open. Inside it was simple, delightful. Mille Feuille. A million leaves. Croissants, pains au chocolat, pear and chocolate stuffed. Claw-like baked goods pumped with cream, another with nutella. The smell of butter and nuts, apples and fruit simmered in the upper airwaves.

The bread, beautifully crusted and dusted stood at attention. Customers, one after another, came and went. Hands empty in, hands full on the way out. Maybe to buy a coffee, but always for a baguette. Maybe one of the special baguettes shaped like a bird of paradise.

Now this was a simple neighborhood bakery, one that isn’t in any travel or foodie guidebooks. It’s not a place like Paul with it's dazzlingly fancy spotless windows and design that you see in malls and contrived on shopping boulevards the world over. I have no problem with it. No, this one was just a local, family-run boulangerie.

As I looked around, the woman who ran the bakery was probably in her 50s. Although she maintained a bright disposition and was very friendly, she moved quickly and was dusted from work, giving you the sense that she'd hardly had a break. The kitchen and ovens were going full bore, for every time the pains au chocolat ran out, she’d pull a few more from a space behind the door, as if mysteriously. Baked goods emerging from a place of never-ending joy.

I wonder when this woman retires, to whom she’ll pass the baking torch. And I wonder as we lose our sense of the art of creating baked things and food and all that we take for granted, who will make the croissants the next time we visit.

We emerged with six pastries (I’m so glad we took the final pear and chocolate croissant, for all its many calories it made my day) and a coffee for €7.50.**

I hope, artisanal or not, we continue to know how to work hard to create things of simple beauty like this.

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We departed Strasbourg with a sense that even without an itinerary, we didn’t miss a beat. We found the essence of the place, this French town on the German border, in the details.

What are the moments and details that help you grasp the essence of a place?

**Author's note on gluttony: Those six pastries above were not only for the two of us, but to be shared between us and two other friends in our apartment.

Strasbourg Travel Tips

Strasbourg Food and Restaurants

Boulangerie Artisanale JF, 14 rue Finkwiller, Strasbourg: Our favorite local bakery mentioned above. In a quiet neighborhood near La Petite France.

La Choucrouterie Restaurant, 20 rue St-Louis, Strasbourg: Fun restaurant serving Alsatian food that is packed at lunch and dinner with locals. Lots of fun — and funky — quasi-pornographic art hanging on the walls. Lunch menu changes daily – good value, reasonably priced (around €8).

Le Bistrot du Boulanger, 42 rue de Zurich, Strasbourg: For high quality classical French food in a relaxed setting, it would be hard to beat this place (kudos to our friend, Kathleen, for finding it). We had a wonderful meal here in the evening of magret de canard flambé set ablaze at the table with Alsatian whiskey (watch your eyebrows and hair!) that we paired with a Vacqueyras, and fish served with creamy polenta and a semi-dried tomato coulis that we paired with a Viognier. The coulant tout chocolat is deadly. Not cheap, but very high value, the menu changes regularly. Note: This restaurant also offers a reasonably priced lunch menu, from €9-€15 Euros.

La Corde à Linge Restaurant, 2, place Benjamin Zix, La Petite France, Strasbourg: A popular restaurant in La Petite France with a solid menu of Alsatian, French and Continental fare. For dinner, be sure to make a reservation. Portions are large, so consider sharing one main dish between two people or ordering starters. Audrey and I enjoyed a nicely prepared steak tartare (yes, that's raw meat) and we heard rumors that the spätzle was also quite good.

Maison Kamerzell, 16 Place de la Cathédrale, Strasbourg: We strolled by Maison Kammerzell early in our visit and dismissed it as a touristy restaurant given its location and decor. But then we met François, a Strasbourg local we struck up a conversation with at the wine salon insisted we go for the two-for-one special choucroute featuring three types of fish draped over a bed of sauerkraut. Note: this special is offered from January to April every year. How could we resist? For other Alsatian, we might recommend someplace lower profile and more personal.

Strasbourg Markets

Markets take place across Strasbourg throughout the week (take a look here for a listing). We enjoyed the Saturday market that was one part flea market on Rue du Vieux Marché aux Poissons and another part fresh market on Rue de la Douane near the L'Ill river. Lots of fresh produce, friendly vendors, some tasty nibbles. What's not to like?

Where to Stay in Strasbourg
We don't claim extensive knowledge of Strasbourg and its neighborhoods. However, we enjoyed the location of our apartment rental on Rue des Glacières, just across the river from La Petite France and the center of town. It was a quiet, local, and not far from the action. When you're seeking Strasbourg accommodation, consider this area.

Getting to/from Strasbourg
Direct flights to Strasbourg airport were pricy when we searched, so we flew instead into nearby Basel-Mulhouse-Freiburg Airport as it was quite a bit cheaper (e.g., €75 round trip on EasyJet from Berlin). From the airport, hop a local bus (€2.50) to St. Louis railway station. From there, it's about an hour by train to Strasbourg (€22.50). Trains leave around every 30 minutes in the morning and evening.

The post Capturing the Essence of a Place (Or, A Long Weekend in Strasbourg) appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Have you ever come away from a long weekend visiting a city, your map torn in half and frayed along the way? That's good old-fashioned map wear and tear, a sign that you've gotten lost many times. Sometimes you get to your original destination, sometimes you don't. Maybe you've found something else along the way, some unexpected discoveries.

That's what makes the weekend, your weekend, interesting.

And so it was with our recent long weekend in Paris for my birthday at the end of August.

It had been almost eight years since our last visit to Paris. It turns out that's just enough time to make the city feel just new and fresh, like a first visit. We took many turns — a few planned, most not — during our walks from Montmartre to Quartier Latin with Belleville, Le Marais, and St. Germain peppered in between.

Through our Instagram photos, we take you on a long late summer weekend in Paris. We thank the clouds for providing a dramatic backdrop during our visit. We thank friends and readers for suggestions. And we thank Paris for being Paris.

We hope you enjoy the photographic stroll.

Note: Dan is the one with the thumbs, the iPhoneography master in the family. All of the Instagram images you see below are his. Yes, I'm a proud wife.

Day 1: Eiffel Tower, Saint German, Île de la Cité, Quartier Latin

Day 2: Belleville, Le Marais, and dinner in Quartier Latin

Day 3: Morning markets, Rive Droite, Montmartre, Le Marais

Day 4: Morning Market, Bastille

What are your favorite spots in Paris? What did we miss? I'm sure we'll be back soon.

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The post A Long Summer Weekend in Paris, The Instagram Way appeared first on Uncornered Market.