So check out my line-up of shows about relationships, food, travel and culture, and start living a Poptimisitic life!

Thank you to the thousands of readers from around the globe who have spent time in Alphabet City.  You’re a diverse bunch with varied tastes—from eco-friendly travel to gay hook-up apps—there’s been a little bit of something for everyone in 2010.  And you’re always surprising me—I mean who knew there were so many Glee fans in Brunei?  In case you’ve missed some of the favorites, I’ve pulled together the Top 23 for you—a little primer on what your fellow Alphabet Citizens have enjoyed.  Why 23?  Because it’s a funny number.  Let me know—did your favorites make the cut?

#1 40, Love: Glee Bargain I’d like to think that my take on Fox TV’s hit show Glee and the producer’s difficulty in portraying Kurt in a more realistic light hit a nerve with the blog-o-sphere.  But judging from the Google searches that linked to the post, I honestly think folks were searching for pictures of cute gay high school student Blaine.  Maybe a channel dedicated to my thoughts on the show is in order?  I think I’d call it KurtiousGLEE.

#2 40, Love: Hello, Meat Grindr No surprise that sex sells, especially to gay boys on the prowl.  My humorous take using the hook-up site during jury duty is one of ABCityblog’s perennial favorites.

A chance encounter with photographer Jamie Beck lead to my favorite Alphabet City publicity shot!

#3 BizSavvyBlogger’s Peek-A-Blog: From Me To You Out of a chance encounter in the blogosphere—courtesy of Whole Foods—blossomed a fun friendship with phenomenal photographer.  The result has been spectacular pictures of me, Chef and our home.  This post gives a peek behind her stylish blog.

#4 Alphabet City’s Episode 1: Whoopi A crazy cat and a mishap with her Oscar, make my encounter with Whoopi a perennial favorite—and the perfect opening to Alphabet City.

#5 BizSavvyBlogger’s Peek-A-Blog: PerrinPost.truth.travel For years travelers have been religiously following the advice of Condé Nast Traveler’s Wendy Perrin.  In this post, I get my longtime friend to dish about how her print job keeps her from blogging 24/7 and what that means for PR folks.

Another Jamie Beck captured moment

#6 40, Love: Tattoo Police I’m an exhibitionist at heart, so I take every chance to show off my tattoos—even on the blog.  According to Google, many people are worried about being “booked” in this tattoo database.

#7 Alphabet City’s: One Night in Bangkok Okay, I’ll admit that I was pandering to my readers with, shall we say, more prurient interests by posting this scandalous excerpt from Alphabet City about a gay sex palace in Bangkok.  But it has one of my favorite comic lines, ever.

#8 Green Globe Trekker: Blue Bahama Mama Thankfully, my readers have rather diverse tastes—especially for eco-travel.  In advance of my panel at Condé Nast Traveler’s World Savers Congress in Singapore, I get the green scoop on The Atlantis.

#9 Kitchen Knightmares: Something Fishy Moroccan Halibut and Carrots from a Bon Appétit recipe is the star of this post—the top viewed recipe related story.

#10 Alphabet City’s Alpha-Beltway This entry is the most-read post related to the Alphabet City Book Tour. While in DC, I get an insider perspective courtesy of old friends, have nauseating John Boehner sighting, and wonder what happened to my favorite Rosalynn Carter outfit.

#11(tie) Tex and the City: Lela & BA Café MSNBC’s Thomas Roberts makes a guest appearance in this post, sharing a picture of his taxi driver’s name Ram Amandeep.  Read it aloud.  That name has become the #2 Google search directing traffic my way.  The first?  “Glee Blaine.”  There’s a joke there, but for now, I’m going to refrain.

AND

40, Love: Virgin Queen My first time with a woman—first time getting a tattoo, of course.  Next to sex, tattoos sells.  I guess they are related in a way.

#13 Kitchen Knightmares: Kiss My Grits After meeting Chef Marcus Samuelsson at a Kraft-sponsored event, I’ll admit developing a little crush.  Will his next restaurant be in Washington Heights?

#14(tie) Alphabet City’s Even Jesus Had a Publicist A rejection from a literary agent who thinks the general public won’t know what a “publicist” does provides an opportunity to excerpt from Alphabet City.

AND

Alphabet City’s Episode 4: Tyra, And Nothing But the Truth Before she was America’s next top media mogul, she was grazing the breakfast buffet and quizzing me about my sexuality.

#16 Alphabet City’s First Excerpt from Episode 13: Happy Soul The online encounter that changed my life.

#17 40, Love: Justice Jo(h)n Paul Unearthing a letter from his father’s papers, I pay tribute to Supreme Court Justice John Paul.

#18 Alphabet City’s First Excerpt from Episode 14: And Baby Makes Three A heartbreaking farewell to a special cast member.  Pet lovers won’t be able to read without crying.

Outside Hanoi's Golden Cock

#19 Green Globe Trekker: iPho Vietnam—Motorbikes & Golden Cock While I’d like to think it’s my lovely description of Viet Nam that makes this post a standout, I believe the name of Hanoi’s gay bar is what calls out to many in their Google searches.

#20(tie) 40, Love: Share, and Cher alike AND Kitchen Knightmares: The Premiere The launch of my cooking show with a nightmare of rancid pork is as compelling to readers as my fighting with neighbors and their kids at the local CSA food pick-up spot.

#22 Tex and the City: The Parent Trap Confronting the question of “are you guys going to have kids?,” I turn to theater reviews for help.

#23 Green Globe Trekker: Costa Rican Eco-Luxe Many of the travel industry’s most pressing sustainability questions have been answered by the Costa Rican trendsetting company Cayuga Sustainable Hospitality.

Jicaro property

2010 Christmas Card Wreath

Receiving Christmas cards is one of my great holiday joys.  I’m not one of those curmudgeons who complain about the cutesy pictures of kids posed in their holiday finest, or roll my eyes at the “year in the life” letters that could have used a deft editing touch.  In the age of Facebook, when you’re only one passive peek away from knowing the latest thought of your 389^th best friend, I find Christmas cards wonderfully anachronistic.

Maybe it’s the sense of anticipation that has me addicted to holiday snail mail.  Will I make it back onto the Jewish Billionaire’s Christmas card list having run into him on book tour a couple times this year?  No, but his company sent me an e-greeting with a recipe for a trifle.  Bah-humbug. Will Tyra see her way clear to forgive a little out-of-context PageSix book publicity?  Unfortunately, no.

But then there are the true friends and family on whose cards I can always count.  Frida’s veterinary pet insurance kicks in the season early with a note that arrives right after Thanksgiving.  My 83 year-old Uncle Cleigh typically sends a picture montage card—usually posed with his dogs and sky diving on his last birthday.  My best gay Gareth chooses a homosexually charged fold-over.  Keith mails an artistic and intricate pop-up cut out.  Cathy manages to unearth yet another jokey Mexican theme featuring yet another Chihuahua, this year posed in a sweater with message, “Fleece Navidad.”  Which, by the way, has Chef in stitches—never underestimate the power of homonym humor to a non-native speaker.

Given my love of the card tradition, you’d think I’d get in on the action.  But no, I’m just a greeting voyeur.  And I don’t even feel guilty about it.  I suppose if you get right down to it, that’s what this blog is really: each post one big Christmas card note, a snapshot of my thinking at a certain point in time.

Here then is my (electronic) Christmas card missive:

With Chef in Mexico

Dear friends, family, fans and casual readers—

2010 has been a life-changing year for me, and I couldn’t have done it without the love of Chef, my partner of a decade (yikes!), not to mention all the encouragement and support you’ve given me along the way.  A year ago, the success of this blog in connecting with readers convinced me to muster the courage and independently publish my humorous memoir Alphabet City.  And what a joyous journey—both literal and emotional—with consequences I never anticipated.

On book tour, I had the opportunity to connect personally with so many of you who graciously opened your homes for book parties with friends.  Christine E., Cathy, Mandy and the ladies of Chi Omega in Dallas/Ft. Worth made my hometown welcoming again—and the reconnection with my stepmother Christine C. was an early Christmas gift.

Alphabet City themed cupcakes at sister-in-law Laura's party

My Mexican family—Isabel in S. Florida, and in-laws Laura and Miguel in Boston—thanks for trying to translate Mary Tyler Moore to a Latino audience.  Of course, the coastal gays jumped into action: Bryan K. for the first Manhattan gathering, Larry for LA’s Gay Pride, Chris and Tom for a weekend on Fire Island.  I had the opportunity to see dear friends blossoming in their new homes: Kara in DC, Dana in LA, and Jimmy in Madison.  Old friends like Shannon took me to new places like Lubbock where her sister Colleen charmed the boots off of me!  Even older friends (and family) introduced me to their new friends and family: sister Paige to the Whole Foods gang, Valerie to Austin’s Media Mavens, including Tammy and her gorgeously renovated historic abode.  Not to mention the reconnections along the way: Kathryn, Mila, Julia, and Diana.

The love I felt from you, your friends, and the fans I met along the way, made me truly believe that I have a unique, fun and optimistic voice that is connecting with readers.  And that is what has given me the courage to announce my next journey: following my passion and dream of being a writer, and doing so full-time.

An optimistic attitude, like Mary Tyler Moore

That means I bid a fond farewell to life as a marketing/public relations consultant, and say hello to the life of a writer.  While I anticipate many ups and downs, I’ve learned that my passion, creativity, hard work and optimistic attitude can take me far.  Already, my focus and energy landed me an important story for Condé Nast Traveler (watch for it in March 2011).  And I have many more exciting changes in store, including a complete redesign and relaunch of this blog.  The topics I write about are more than can be captured in a sitcom called Alphabet City.  With favorite shows like Tex and the City (culture), Green Globe Trekker (travel), and 40, Love (life), and soon-to-be-released shows like Service Entrance (food) and Biz Savvy Blogger (technology), I may just need my own network—like Oprah.  As the wise and wealthy media mogul says herself in promos for her OWN channel:

“What if I could take every story that ever moved me?  Every lesson that motivated me?  Every opportunity that was given to me?  All of my most special celebrations?  And shared them with you?”

Some might call that nauseating, others might call that Facebook and Twitter, but I’m calling the new JP network:

Watch for this fresh, frank, fun website-network to launch in the New Year.  I can’t wait to share this next part of the journey with you.  As Oprah says, “Oooh, this is gonna be good!”

Until then, wishing you a

Viewer programming note: To prepare for the Poptimistic programming change and to celebrate the season, ABCityblog will be going on hiatus—except for instances of breaking thoughts/news.

On my recent trip to Amsterdam, locals were quick to point out to me that they have one marriage law that applies to gays and straights alike. They are rightfully proud of the fact that Holland is on the cutting edge of marriage equality—for Dutch citizens. Unless you are marrying a permanent resident of the Netherlands, don’t expect to hop the next KLM flight and tie the knot the next day. But with a little planning, there’s no reason you can’t pull off a memorable, and tasteful, gay destination wedding in the city of canals.  Click here for some of my tastey tips for gay-friendly wedding planner, locations like Sofitel’s The Grand, even nightclubs for bachelor/ette parties.

My post-turkey daze ritual is always the same: first, from my kitchen blackboard, I take down and pack away holiday recipes snipped from the pages of Bon Appétit—this year’s Malt-Beer-Brined Turkey with Malt Glaze will go in the fan-favorite file along with 2003’s Sweet Potato Brulee and 2001’s Spiced Cranberry Sauce with Zinfandel.  Then, I can settle in for one more sip of coffee as I reflect on the dinner conversation provided by The Spit List.  Even in the 11^th year of the game, the debate was wildly controversial. Here’s a recap of the proceedings.

The Launch.  As tradition holds, I threw out the first pitch: Rupert Murdoch, for using his media empire to advance a debilitating Republican agenda and fanning the flames of the Tea Party insanity.  For background: I launched a quiet protest a few months ago by boycotting the mogul’s media properties.  Honestly, I’d never been a big reader of WSJ so that was easy.  And Fox News?  Please.  What channel is that anyway?  But the New York Post was more complicated—leaving behind PageSix was hard enough (I’m a bold-faced name there after all), but not getting my Michael Reidel Broadway gossip fix was excruciating.  So, I decided I could read that online—for free.  When I fretted to Chef that I felt like I was cheating since I love Fox TV’s Glee, he helpfully suggested that I just not frequent the advertisers for that show.  Since I don’t use Dove hair care products, that sounded like a plan I could get behind.

Pop-Culture.  Speaking of Glee, that phenomenon surfaced multiple times in the always sure to provoke incredulous protests: the Pop-Culture Category.  Scott wanted to spit on Glee’s Rachel and Fin for promoting “too much of a wholesome, all-American image.”  While Jimmy from Madison Facebooked (yes, I did, I made it a verb) in his nomination of Artie—Glee’s differently enabled character, “his character is way too white and geeky to be singing all the cool male vocals.  And, for God’s sake, get him some new glasses and stop wearing those ugly sweaters!”  The table nearly came unglued, until I read Jimmy’s other nomination—Taylor Swift.  Everyone agreed with Jimmy’s assessment, “she can’t sing live if her life depended on it.”  My own nomination of Dancing with the Stars—for giving ridiculous individuals like Bristol Palin some kind of platform—was followed up more specifically by Scott who objected to Jennifer Grey and her nose.  Darrell chimed in with Charlie Sheen, not because he’s just generally out-of-control, but for his unnecessary use of the N** word.  Mike took Charlie’s actions a step further expressing frustration with a class of people who mistreat sex workers.

Social Network.  Nobody at the table seemed to understand my distaste for Kanye West’s Tweets and the ridiculous amount of media attention it has generated.  Really New York Magazine?  So I was happy when Aimee Skyped in from Kabul (she didn’t really, she emailed from Afghanistan, but I just wanted to be Oprah for a second) with her unhappiness for the person responsible for Sarah Palin’s blog who wrote something like, “I hope we drove Democrats crazy by having Bristol as a final contestant on Dancing with the Stars!!”  Damn, there’s that show again.  As Aimee said the woman is crazy not only for dedicating her life to that “whack-a-doo” but also for “thinking that a lame e-list celebrity dancing show will have serious political ramifications.  Dumb-ass.”

Show Stumpers.  Aimee contributed Diandra Douglas to this category reserved for nominations that need added explanation.  Most at the table needed me to explain the background on Michael Douglas’ wife filing a financial compensation lawsuit long after her divorce was finalized—while her son was going to prison, and Michael was off to chemo.  I’m sure she’ll be a contestant on DWTS soon—and then everyone will agree.  Also in this section, Werner nominated Porsche.  Not the car—or a misspelling of Ellen’s wife—but the Fire Island/Key West drag queen songstress.  To be fair, Werner asked for a rule clarification if Porsche would be considered famous enough for the Spit List.  I reluctantly allowed it only because she was briefly Wanda Sykes’ side kick on the comedian’s brief talk show foray.  Porsche’s offense?  Squandering her talent evidently—Werner objects to her deteriorating Ice Palace performance from Friday night to Sunday afternoon.  Gay boys can be tough, I’m telling you.

Show Stoppers.  This is like the Best Picture Oscar—it’s the big kahuna.  The nomination that stops conversation cold.  It was inaugurated several years back when Angela nominated Trig Palin, Sarah’s down syndrome child.  She didn’t like the child being used as a prop—and she also didn’t necessarily believe the child was Sarah’s.  Well, stone cold silence at the table.  Last year, Scott won this category with Rihanna—in the midst of her Chris Brown beating controversy.  He didn’t like her haircut, but still, spitting on a gal when she’s down is pretty strong.  But he stood by it.  This year, hands down, the Show Stopper award goes to Chef for his nomination of a class known as “Recreational Drug Users.”  With a table full of gay boys, including me, who have partied their way around the globe—from Sydney’s Mardi Gras to Montreal’s Black and Blue—you could have heard a pin drop.  But Chef soldiered on, “Believe me, I’m all for legalizing drugs.  But that’s not going to happen here.  And in the meantime, drug use in America is ravaging my home country of Mexico.  It’s tearing it apart.  So every time someone takes a sniff or pops a pill, you are killing someone back in Mexico.”  We all paused for a second to take that in.  Then someone asked, “Could you wait until after New Year’s maybe?”  And then someone else started in on Gwyneth Paltrow and of course we were back to Glee.

But I looked across the table at Chef and smiled.  Proud that he had spoken up and taken an important stand.  We might have been laughingly playing The Spit List, but for a brief moment, the game provided a reminder of the relative comfort and safety we enjoy in America—and that it comes with a privilege.  A duty to say “thanks.”  It’s our freedom that allows us to even have something like The Spit List.  Who knew that 11 years ago, Chloe Sevigny and Scarlett Johansson would lead to this?

Last night, in the midst of a passionate Upper West Side crowd, Patti LuPone was staring at me with an eager, come hither grin.  As I approached, a cutish guy caught my eye, “You’re the first one to show interest all night.”  He was one of the volunteer’s at the Goddard Riverside Community Center 24^th Annual New York Book Fair.  And unlike celebrity chef Daisy Martinez who was signing books in-person across the room, Patti had sent a facsimile of herself courtesy of the cover of her book, Patti LuPone: A Memoir.  What must have the contentious discussions been like to come up with that clever title?  Still, after a product plug on Glee from the impossibly precious Blaine, I couldn’t resist taking a peek inside.  After all, it was for a good cause.

Every year the weekend before Thanksgiving, the Goddard Center hosts this fundraising fair featuring 50% off some of the latest and most buzzed about books donated by various publishing companies.  And I can see why they participate every year.  The Goddard Center is an outstanding organization with 27 programs in 21 sites on the Upper West Side and in West Harlem focusing on children, youth and families; homeless people; older adults; and advocacy and tenant assistance.  Thanks to the Whole Foods Market Upper West Side sponsorship of the event, Chef scored me a pass to the gala preview where I shopped for best sellers without breaking the bank.

For Chef, I elbowed my way through the Cooking section picking up Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home and Bouchon at way under market value, while cautioning other buyers that his French Laundry cookbook was really only for the extremely seriously trained culinary professionals.  For myself, I grabbed Mark Bittman’s latest The Food Matters Cook Book.  In the Hot Titles section, I nearly tackled someone to pick up a hard cover cop of Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, even though I just ordered it on Kindle.  I’m still having trouble getting my head around reading “important” novels in electronic form.  I have the same issues about wanting to have real copies of “quirky” books, which is why I probably nabbed John Waters’ Role Models.  Super Freakonomics, on the other hand, is a book I would happily read electronically, but not economist-turned-Chef, so I caved for him.  We even picked a Christmas present for our nieces, a sweet children’s book Me, Frida about Frida Kahlo finding herself and following her dream when she moved to San Francisco with Diego.  The book jacket says the book “encourages young readers to believe in themselves so they can make their own dreams soar.”  Hmm, maybe I’ll hang onto it.

Back at the Entertainment section, I was just putting down Patti’s book, not too impressed with the over-the-top self-congratulatory opening.  Then the Goddard Center Broadway Babies took the “stage” and belted out “Give My Regards to Broadway.”  It was a Glee-come-true, and I decided that Patti should come home with me.

On the subway lugging home all the heavy purchases, I couldn’t thinking about Kindle—hoping e-book craze never puts this cause out-of-business.

Grab your own Patti or Frida at the Goddard Riverside Community Center 24th Annual New York Book Fair, 593 Columbus Avenue @ 88th Street

Saturday, November 20, 2010, 10am to 6pm
Sunday, November 21, 2010, 11am-5pm

Swans mate for life as captured in this emotion.bread

Just like fashion designers are often inspired by overseas travels, my wedding and event planning tips are informed by my tastey gay getaways. Amsterdam was no exception—and no, I’m not talking about the infamous coffee shops and Red Light District. In the revitalizing neighborhood of Westerpark, I met up with artist-chefs-innovators Marjolein Wintjes and Eric Meursing at their De Culinaire Werkplaats, a design studio, restaurant, store and more for food concepts.

CLICK HERE to read more about Marjolein’s concept of making bread the centerpiece of sharing for life’s sweet and savory moments like “always together breads”—for (gay) weddings.

Stumbling through Times Square yesterday, in a post-election fog I had been trying to out run on the New York Sports Club treadmill, I suddenly found myself smiling.  Not because my iPhone was blasting Glee TV stars Rachel and Kurt’s “Happy Days Are Here Again,” but because I had been stopped in my tracks by two tourists desperately trying to compose a photo of themselves in front of the theater for Million Dollar Quartet.  Never mind that they were in the way of thousands of hurried and unhappy commuters making their way to Port Authority, or that they were in danger of being swiped by yellow cabs careening down 41^st street.  These tourists were in the thick of love with New York City—they saw and wanted to capture a part of that Big Apple magic on a side street that most residents ignore.

with Uncle Cleigh

It often worries me that after 15 years, I can become numb to the excitement and glamour of New York.  But thankfully, Chef and I host a steady stream of visitors—spending time seeing the city through their eyes is like a renewal of our Big Apple love vow.  Often, it’s the smallest thing that we take for granted.  My 82 year-old “Uncle” Cleigh from Austin has more spunk (and better outfits) than me.  Last month on his semi-annual pilgrimage, we took in a Sunday evening performance of the outrageously hilarious Charles Busch’s Divine Sister.

Afterwards, he was hungry and I fretted that I had failed to scope out dining options in the area.  After a recent hip replacement surgery, Uncle Cleigh might not be up for an aimless wander in search of the Holy Food Grail—a cute downtown establishment with no line out the door.  Not to worry.  Uncle Cleigh gave a dramatic toss to the cape around his shoulders and a tap of his cane and lead the way, within minutes we turned the corner to a little side street.  After seeing a curb piled high with garbage, I just knew we were headed in the wrong direction.  But Uncle Cleigh’s eyes lit up—he’d look past the refuse to a plate glass window of the charming little restaurant Salt.

“This is the New York I love!” declared Uncle Cleigh.

Inside, the food was good, the wine flowing, the service delightful, and the company even sweeter.  And to think initially I had wanted to run the other way.

But even with restaurant reservations, I can be jaded and suspect.  Last year, our friends Tony and Christine were visiting from Sydney, and they were excited about taking me and Chef to dinner at Lidia Bastianich’s Felidia.  Lidia’s new cooking show had just debuted Down Under and Tony was a huge fan.

“Maybe she’ll be at the restaurant and can sign my cookbook,” Tony enthused.

I felt like it was my duty to lower his expectations.

“Don’t get your hopes up.  It’s a Sunday night in the summer—most New York chefs are gone.  Besides, it’s not one of her newer restaurants.  I’m sure she doesn’t spend any time there,” I advised.

When we arrived, the host refused to sit us in the main dining room and said the only table available for us was in the front window, by the bar.  I was displeased.

“Typical, treating us like tourists,” I said to Tony.  “Try to not let it ruin your evening.”

“I won’t. This is a better place to spot Lidia.”

I rolled my eyes and buried my head in the menu.

And then somewhere between opening cocktails and first appetizer, a sweet lady with thinning red hair and glasses in a chef’s jacket appeared at the bar.

“Oh my god, there’s Lidia!” I practically screamed.

Chef, Tony and Christine applauded in excitement.  And the next thing we knew, Lydia was at our table talking about how much she liked Australia.  Taking pictures.  Signing autographs.  And later sending out a whole range of desserts on the house.  Bless the Australians and their fresh, hopeful, optimistic outlook.  They had conjured up a little of the Manhattan magic.

That last experience had slipped my mind, until I got a call a couple of days ago from my friend Aimee in Afghanistan.  I know, right?  I just like saying that.  Aimee and I have been friends for many years in New York and she’s now on assignment working for an international organization in Kabul.  In a funny stroke of luck, our paths had crossed this summer when I was in LA on the Alphabet City Book Tour and she was on leave, just about to head back to help rebuild Afghanistan.  Aimee called to say how much she loved Alphabet City that she had just finished reading, and, and then wrote me a note later as a follow-up:

“I knew I’d enjoy your book no matter what, b/c, well–it’s you. Normally I just love talking to you and hearing things that happen, like when Lydia unexpectedly showed up at her restaurant to the amusement of your tourist friends (who fully expected her to be there) and all sorts of things that happen to you on a day-to-day basis.”

So thanks Aimee, and Uncle Cleigh, and Tony and Christine, and all those tourists flooding the streets of Manhattan—for giving me the perspective needed to keep loving the Big Apple, and all its surprises.

The days after returning from vacation, I find myself wearing some of the same items I had packed for the trip.  The American Apparel v-neck yellow t-shirt may be freshly laundered, but it transports me back to sunrise over Vietnam’s Halong Bay.  Despite a much needed washing, that short sleeve Lucky Jeans western shirt still has faint whiffs of noodles and mysterious herbs from a Saigon pho shop.  Paired with a cup of coffee made with beans transported from Vietnam (“it’s a country, not a war” was my favorite slogan), I ease myself back into life at home with Frida and Chef.  Alas, no stunning breakfast buffet from Hanoi’s Sofitel Metropole restored to its colonial grandeur.  Not even a welcoming smile from Trung or Tuan, our guides from trusted gay-friendly tour operator Purple Dragon.

Here then, favorite memories—and outfits—from our recent Southeast Asia voyage.  If you spot me this week, you can tell by my clothes my feelings and dreams.

Halong Bay, Vietnam.  An overnight trip on a private boat through some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever experienced—truly.  This was a last minute addition to our itinerary thanks to the strong recommendation of our Purple Dragon guides Trung and Tuan—the latter moved last minute heaven and earth to make it happen for us.  Photographs from this collection of 2000 rock formations appear in everything from guide books to the movie Indochine—seeing them up close and personal is indescribable.  Reason enough alone to make your way to Vietnam as soon as possible.  Did I mention there was spectacular fresh seafood and karaoke onboard at night?  Outfit: yellow v-neck t-shirt pops in pictures; Parke and Ronen swimming shorts less risqué than Speedo for early morning swim.

Pho & Banh Mi.  Let’s face it, when write about food and travel with (a) Chef, eating is pretty much the centerpiece of a journey.  And boy did Vietnam deliver.  The traditional dish Pho—a traditional noodle soup, often with chicken or beef—differs in flavor and spices from Saigon to Hanoi—so we tried them all, and loved them all.  Don’t miss Pho 2000 in Saigon made famous by a Bill Clinton visit or Hanoi’s Mai Anh near Metropole.  Our guide Trung had a lot of rules about when we could eat Banh Mi (pretty much only in the morning), but ultimately took pity on us and let us buy a couple at Saigon’s Nhu Lan (run by an “old lesbian couple” he told us) and eat with our Pho.  Outfit: red American Apparel v-neck or H&M white t-shirt.

Motorbikes & Golden Cock(s). Every trip, Chef and I latch onto something that we comment upon endlessly.  Summer in Scandinavia, it was the never setting sun.  In Vietnam, it was the motorbikes.  No one walks here, everyone is on a scooter, ignoring any semblance of traffic regulation or laws of gravity—the amount that can be balanced and carried on one was awe-inspiring.  Crossing the street seemed life threatening, but we followed the advice of our guide Trung, “Keep moving, don’t stop, don’t run”—sage advice applicable to many situations really.  All those motorbikes just made the men seem sexier driving up to Hanoi’s gay hot spot Golden Cock—a bar that wouldn’t be out of place in New York’s East Village.  Outfit: Penguin graphic TV t-shirt.

Old Quarter, Hanoi.  This warren of streets, each featuring a specialized vendor—from locksmiths to shoes to fresh meat (frog legs)—was endlessly fascinating and mesmerizing.  Also the perfect spot for Chef to pick-up a Vietnam communist-inspired cap.  For me, an addictive Vietnamese coffee got me amped up for the chaos.  Outfit: Lucky Brand short sleeve Western shirt.

Sofitel Metropole, Hanoi.  One of those classic grand dame Southeast Asia hotels on par in colonial splendor and history with Grand Raffles in Siem Reap and Raffles Singapore—the latter Chef and I were asked to leave the lobby because we were not dressed appropriately in shorts.  Never mind that I was trying to give them a copy of Alphabet City that features the hotel in a scene of getting locked out on the Presidential Suite’s balcony.  It was one of those “my how the might have fallen” moments.  Sofitel has done a meticulous job of restoring the Metropole—the dark hard wood floors made me feel like Catherine Deneuve in Indochine.  Chef had a thing for the outfit worn by the lobby attendant—the hat in particular.  Outfit: linen plaid short sleeve from Penguin, paired with floppy hat from Saigon’s Chinatown market.

Coffee & Bia with Purple Dragon Guides.  Although it’s totally possible to navigate through Vietnam independently, Chef and I had limited time—and we wanted an insight into the developing gay scene in this burgeoning country.  Gay (and gay friendly) tour operator Purple Dragon was the perfect solution.  Trung in Saigon and Tuan in Hanoi were welcoming, willing to share details of life and struggles as gay men in Vietnam, flexible in our itinerary, chose outstanding restaurants and food stalls, and were the perfect companions for breaks over coffee and beer.  I became addicted to the Vietnamese strong coffee sweetened with condensed milk (yum), while Chef became enamored by Bia Hoi—a draft beer made in small batches delivered that day to the establishment.  When Trung found out how much we missed and adore Frida, he brought his own puppy Boy to see us off at the airport.  Outfit: H&M green t-shirt and striped sailor top.

Chef.  My lifetime traveling companion never ceases to amaze me with his enthusiastic embrace of all things travel.  There’s not a jaded, complaining bone in this boy’s body who literally eats up all travel experiences.  From the Asian menu in Japan Airlines business class (special thanks to Platinum American Express’ 2-4-1 deals) to the mysterious sausages somewhere on the road from Halong Bay, Chef dives right in with a smile.  Ten years of traveling together, and he still makes me laugh and smile and try new things.  We’re constantly amazed at other couples traveling together—sniping at each other, frowning.  Sure, travel these days is far from glamorous and can be a bitch—but no matter how tired I am—one look at Chef’s smile is all it takes for me to see the wonders of the world through his eyes.