Marseille is building on it’s southern ties to North Africa and is remaking  the harbor area into a car-free and pedestrian-friendly promenade. In classic French fashion, the city has designated ten new cultural sites, many located in renovated structures. A museum was once France’s Ellis Island, where immigrants were processed, and an abandoned tobacco factory is being refashioned as a Contemporary Arts Museum focusing on the Immigration theme. New buildings are popping up too, with public finance we Americans can only dream about. The desire to change the crime-ridden image to cultural hotspot is a tricky balancing act, paying homage to the immigrant culture without whitewashing the colonial past.

Nearly 30 percent of Marseille’s population is Muslim and without a significant middle class to support the arts, Marseille has been neglected culturally over the years. This is a chance, post Arab Spring, for the city to shine.

Marseille is in Provence, and  many venues in other Provencal towns, including the wealthier Arles and Aix-en-Provence, are part of the year-long celebration hoping to create harmony, civic pride and serve as a magnet for tourists and tourist euros!

Clearly, visiting struggling countries helps to boost their economy. For a place like Greece, it might well be how they can dig out of such a deep hole, promoting all that is so appealing when life for locals is so hard. So, when I read a recent New York Times article entitled “The Country Beckons Spaniards as Jobs in Cities Grow Scarce,” it was interesting to think about how long periods of strife can dramatically change the travel landscape.

I remember rolling in to sleepy Spanish villages, practically drunk on olives and olive oil and even sleeping under an olive tree one hot day. The small towns, just awakening from years under Franco, were still very old world, so authentic and charming. Spain of course has modernized quickly over the last 20 or so years, but much of the growth was isolated in the big cities and towns.

With jobs so scarce and the cost of living so high in cities like Madrid and Barcelona, many folks are moving back to the countryside and taking with them all their urban skills, savvy, appetite and spirit. The populations of many cities are shrinking, and conversely, the small towns are growing, blossoming with artists, entrepreneurs, new farmers and even circus performers!

So if you’re headed to Spain, after you have been to the Prado Museum, walked Las Ramblas and soaked in some Spanish urban culture, head to the smaller towns to savor the old world flavor or relish the new life! Triporati has more than 50 destinations in Spain to discover!

A recent cameo in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris reminded me of my rushed trip to Giverny many years ago. I traipsed through the garden taking in the amazing palette of colors, the pinks and yellows, fuchsias, purples and oranges. How could one NOT love the feast for the senses?

The next day I visited the Orangerie Museum in Paris where the famous water lily paintings are featured. This combo makes for a nice pairing.  There are currently a few tours in Paris which focus on the many sights featured in Allen’s latest movie. The Paris Underbelly - Midnight in Paris Tour will set you back about $100, depending on the length of the tour.

According to a recent article in the New York Times, the garden (which is open to the public seven months a year and attracted more than half a million visitors in 2010) has a new head gardener. James Priest, has just taken over the reigns of perhaps the world’s most well-known cultivated plot. Mr. Priest is an Englishman, although he has lived in France for 30 years and is married to a Frenchwoman. Some say the garden has more of an English flavor, a wildness and lack of order, but Priest sidesteps the tempest in a teapot over an Anglo running a quintessentially French garden.

The French and the British love to kid each other, naming certain things as “French” or “Anglaise” to connote a distaste. A condom, for example in France is called a “capote anglaise,” whereas in England it is often referred to as a “French letter.”  For his part, Priest feels the garden is beyond French or English and prefers to think of Monet’s Giverny as an artist’s garden.

It’s a demanding job, regardless of the head gardener’s country of origin, and Mr. Priest plans to rely heavily on the wisdom and experience of the gardeners who have been tending Giverny for decades. In his day, Monet could pick and choose what to paint and keep things in bloom at various stages. Today, with so many visitors, the task is to keep the garden picture perfect all the time.

I had been itching to take the kids to the Tech Museum and my husband and I were intrigued by the Art Museum, so we decided to book a hotel room overnight and make a festive trip out of it between Christmas and New Year’s.

It had been raining for nearly two weeks, so we also had visions of a great hike if the skies cleared up. I called a close Cuban-American friend who knows San Jose well and happens to be a foodie. He was on it, and within half an hour recommended three eateries in the area, so I felt ready to go.

Just an hour or so south of San Francisco, San Jose these days is known as the heart of Silicon Valley.

We booked a room at the Hotel Valencia Santana Row, a chic contemporary hotel set amidst a European style pedestrian shopping street. The hotel was a block away from The Winchester Mystery House, a somewhat lost in time, local tourist attraction that seemed a bit cheesy and overpriced for our taste. I was worried that Santana Row might be a Disney-esque version of a European Pedestrian district but it was actually quite stylish, and all decked out for the holidays. Since our trip was short and specific, I had to resist my shopping urges, but many appealing stores beckoned me.

The hotel was slick and comfortable,  and my kids remarked on the leather pillows as we entered our room overlooking the patio. It’s fun to splurge for a night, close to home, on occasion. Despite the torrential downpour we made it to the pool and hot tub twice. Actually, my favorite time to soak and swim is when it’s cold, dark and rainy. The pool area had a Mediterranean feel and the outdoor shower was a nice touch. The little fitness room was much appreciated and we took advantage of it, making the most of our getaway.

In the evening, the patio looked welcoming with fire pits and a fountain in the center, but it was just too wet and cold for a nightcap. Instead, we tucked in and watched the Kennedy Center Honors on TV.

The San Jose Tech Museum is a must-see and we spent hours exploring the two floors of exhibits. The hands on, kid friendly stations were a big hit with my budding techies. My youngest son, aged 7, joined a group with a mock digestion project, simulating the route our food takes through our bodies. My older son designed a terrifying roller coaster circuit and both kids were mesmerized by a robot-artist working non-stop. We all wound up with portraits of ourselves after waiting in line with other bedraggled parents for what seemed like an hour.

The rain had pummeled the holiday display in the park and the holiday skating rink struck me as a rip-off at $15 a pop. Once we realized a soggy hike was not even possible, we headed for the San Jose Museum of Art and were really pleased with our choice. The museum was manageable, light and the staff super helpful. Two shows on view during our trip interested all four of us with lots of interactive features. The kids loved the gallery in the basement where they could build with legos, cards and blocks.

Lunch was at a local Coffee Shop called Flames, which had the feel of a real California diner from the ’50s or ’60s. My foodie friend had recommended Habana Cuba as one of his favorites and we had to agree. The food was really authentic and the kids’ menu made me so happy I wrote a review for a kids’ nutrition site called Well Kiddos. The pork melted in our mouths and the mojito was perfectly not too sweet. We also noshed at Race Street Fish Market, which seemed like a local institution. I’m not much for entirely fried meals but it was worth the sacrifice since all my boys are fish and chips monsters and I could get a broiled piece of fish. It was fun watching the crowd, only one hour from SF, but a world away.

Full of food, art and technology, we headed back home, thoroughly pleased with our mini-sojourn. It was just enough of a getaway to break up the long winter vacation and the waterlogged weather.

Getting sucked into a series of books can be a marvelous experience. You become so invested, almost intimate with the characters. Much to my surprise, I am completely taken by Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy and have been burning the midnight oil as I gallop through the three books. I keep putting the reins on my reading because I don’t want it to end.

This summer, on a trip to the Pacific Northwest’s Olympic Peninsula, I insisted we take a 50-mile detour to visit Forks, Washington, home of the Twilight saga. Twilight is a series of four vampire, teen romance novels by Stephenie Meyer. It follows a teenage girl, named Bella, who moves to Forks, Washington and falls in love with a 104-year-old vampire named Edward Cullen.

I have not read any of them and have little interest in the recent wave of vampire chic, but I am interested in the cult fascination of the vampire trend, and thought it might make a fun side trip. If for nothing else, my 11-year-old son has friends who are obsessed with the characters and so I was intrigued.

After much moaning by the three boys in the car, we took the hour-plus trip from Port Townsend to Forks, a sleepy logging town that has become somewhat of a Mecca for Twilighters or Twihards, as they are called.

Let me tell you, this was a mistake. Unless you have a tween daughter or are particularly smitten with the saga, it’s a huge waste of time. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s positive that a little town on the edge has been resuscitated by a literature feeding frenzy, but I didn’t need to waste the gas money. Besides some life-size poster cutouts of Edward and Bella in the surplus store and this hilarious stall for wood bundles cashing in on the sensation, the town isn’t exactly scintillating. I’m sure if I had read the books I would feel differently, but I certainly used up my free pass to make a travel suggestion for the whole family.

If you are a Twihard, there are tours and chotchki shops on the main drag. You can spend the morning hiking in the Olympic National Forest and then make a detour to this two-stoplight town.

Now a trip to Stockholm, Sweden sounds more appealing. I might even be tempted to take a Millennium Trilogy Tour, seeking out all the spots in Stieg Larsson’s mega hit series. The books ooze with Swedish culture. Since reading the books I have baked Swedish bread and grilled my Swedish friends about everything from the incredible caffeine overload the country must experience to trying to keep the Nordic names straight. The tours take visitors around Stockholm to the real and fictional addresses in the books. The tours even make a stop at the 7-11 shop Lisbeth Salander frequents; she seems to live on frozen pizzas.

Interestingly, the global sensation of the trilogy has meant that visits by tourists have spiked whenever books are translated into a new language. The Larsson mystique was amplified by his premature death of a heart attack at age 50, and there is talk that he was mid-way through a fourth novel when he died unexpectedly. Swedish tourism officials have said the fans of the trilogy, along with the royal wedding this summer, have put Stockholm in the limelight and increased tourism traffic.

If you are interested, there are English language tours, tickets cost about 120 Swedish kronor or about $18-$20. Lisbeth and Blomqvist groupies can also purchase a map of the tour’s route for 40 kronor, about $6, at the Stockholm City Museum or the Stockholm Tourist Center.

I fondly remember visiting the vastness of Metropolitan Museum of Art, marveling at the classics, journeying to Papua New Guinea and Egypt, giggling at the Greek sculptures and noshing at the, then, very fancy café with all the Upper East Side lady lunchers. Most of all I cherished the multicolored little button you get with admission, which I used to save in a jar.

Every time I return to Manhattan I make a pilgrimage to the Met, no matter what is showing. I bring my own kids and rush through, plying them with candy and promises of a ride on the carousel, much as my parents did.

Recently, on one of the hottest days of the year I had a few hours to make my manic tour of the museum.  After a whirlwind visit to the American Woman fashion exhibit—that rocked as much as the original song and the Lenny Kravitz cover—we had about a half hour to kill. I was with a colleague who insisted we head up to the roof garden, a somewhat hidden and unknown asset to the majestic museum.

It was nearing 100 degrees and I was enjoying the comfort of the cool marble and air conditioning inside, but was up for an adventure. In heels, we hiked up, what seemed like a secret staircase, and made our way to this idyllic, verdant roof garden with a bar and an immense bamboo structure. The Doug and Mike Starn on the Roof: Big Bambú installation is closing this Halloween Sunday. The constantly evolving sculpture was mesmerizing and those who could stay hydrated and withstand the heat were enjoying the whimsy.

There are many great bars in New York, many hip venues,  but to be outdoors, high above Central  Park, with a stunning view of the skyline,  while sipping a cocktail is truly a  special New York experience and a respite from the hurly-burly of Fifth Avenue. Ask a museum guard, in whispers, to guide you to the secret stairwell and make the trek to the top. Hurry, the roof garden is generally open in season through the late fall, weather permitting…although the idea of bundling up and sipping hot toddies and cocoa, looking out over a white blanketed park in winter sounds sublime.

A visit to Mount Vernon on a stormy day launched the dizzying schedule. I opted for a breath of fresh air with a view of the Potomac, a tour of the house and a walk to the farm. George Washington was quite green (which I learned is a term in French that means an older, quite virile man, not ecologically minded) and in his own way farmed and recycled with an eye on the future, employing crop rotation and mulching much of his waste. A lover of rivers, he situated his house so the view from the porch is masterful and remains unmarred.

The Lincoln, Vietnam and the newer WWII Memorial were next.  I had wanted to visit the Vietnam Memorial for years, and memories of the names of the NY tri-state area’s war dead scrolling on the TV News came flooding back. I was so young but not untouched by that war.

One of the best parts of the quick visit was the Hay Adams Hotel, where the group stayed. A famous old hotel, we were charmed to be staying right across the street from the White House.

The Museums of DC are monumental and free. We had two hours only, so I chose the Contemporary wing and buzzed through the permanent collection and Beat Generation photo exhibit and a lovely small Dutch show called “The Little Ice Age” about an 18th century period when a prolonged cold snap kept all the canals in Holland frozen and ice skating reigned supreme. I had just rented the Disney version of Hans Brinker with my two boys so I thought of them and loved the magical paintings.

Three top restaurants fed our massive group in style. We had a wine-filled seafood feast at the Occidental Grill and a whirlwind tour of Union Station as we lunched at B. Smith’s in the train station. The portions, of course, shocked the frogs and you could have fed Congress with what we left over.

A visit to the Capitol was on the schedule and although moving 164 French tourists through the tour was harder than a pre-school class trip, they all seemed enthralled.  We got to see Congress, albeit not in session, and I think we all left with more of an understanding of America’s history and government system. One jokester bought a tiny American Flag and began to wave it unmercifully, a comment on the constant presence of the stars and stripes and the patriotic, sweeping music in the promotional film that was shown on the tour. I explained the flag issues about pin wearing during the election and how much Americans cling to/love their flag. They asked if I ever wore a flag pin. I chortled, saying the only time I ever wore red white and blue on purpose was to celebrate the Bicentennial in 1976 as a little kid, and they are not my color. Nonetheless a trip to DC does stir some patriotism.

I must return, perhaps for a week, with my kids, I think the perfect age would be at least 9 or 10 years old to really enjoy all that the city has to offer, so it may be a few years before I do DC again.

I do understand why a first time visitor would want that photo in front of the Eiffel Tower or to say they had been to the Louvre. However, if you sprinkle in a few smaller, lesser known museums you will get a flavor of a neighborhood and a taste of Paris that you won’t find at the famous hotspots.

My all time favorite is the Rodin Museum. Located where the Master once lived and worked, it is a respite from the hustle and bustle of Paris life. When I was a student I used to go to the gardens to study. I loved to wander, grab a coffee and be surrounded by the sculptures. One gray day, there was a small boy with a toy fishing pole, fishing into a puddle, with stunning works of art in the background. I took a picture of the moment and wish I could find it now for this post.

At the time, visits fed my growing fascination with the tortured life of Camille Claudel, the lover, muse and many would say the woman responsible for a number of Auguste Rodin’s masterpieces. If you plan to visit the special spot I recommend renting the 1988 film Camille Claudel starring Isabelle Adjani and Gerard Depardieu.

A visit to the Picasso Museum in the Marais District reignited my interest in the artist. It is in a multistory mansion and the collection chronicles the life and artistic periods of the famous Spanish painter, sculptor and Don Juan who called Paris home for much of his life.

Another favorite of mine is the Museum of Montmartre. I was drawn to it because it was within walking distance of my friend’s apartment and in part because of a fascination with the culture of Absinthe. In Paris, the charm of small museums is often the edifice itself. This 17th century building oozes with history: the rickety stairs and garrets, the pre-historic bathroom setup in the basement and the picturesque garden. The rooms are truly alive and full of colorful characters who tell the tale of this famous/infamous quarter. Make sure to take the audio tour, normally I hate those things but this one really illuminates the experience.

My favorite part of the museum, (besides the great collection of documents, art, furniture and memorabilia from the storied neighborhood) is the grape vineyard that is adjacent to the museum and visible from the windows and garden. It is so anachronistic to see an ancient vineyard in the middle of the pulsing city. Apparently, each year the wine is bottled and auctioned for charity so it would be hard to get a taste.

A recent article in the New York Times chronicled the opening of a Soccer Museum, where else but in Sao Paulo, Brazil. An elite sport that has become a sport for the masses, it has great lessons to teach both on and off the field.

Agility, thinking fast on your feet and teamwork are just a few of the skills vital for soccer success.  From Pele to Mia Hamm, Cameroon to Korea, soccer stars are truly global, although Brazil is perhaps the most insane for its players, many of whom are often given only one name to further heighten their star status.

The billions of soccer fans around the globe love to share their passion, whether using a bunched up old shirt, an old rusty can or a regulation black and white ball; futbol is truly an international language. So, if you have kids who love the sport and you plan on traveling anywhere outside the U.S., take a soccer ball along. Your ball just might be an ambassador of sorts, an entrée into the world of local kids. A mom friend of mine with three boys, all soccer crazy, just got back from a whirlwind trip to Europe. She reminisced with me about her sons’ pick-up games in London’s Hyde Park and Barcelona. What a great way to connect, mingle and assimilate into a culture, something we Americans need to experience more often.

I visited the new Academy of Sciences with my five-year-old yesterday, enjoying a preview visit for new members. It was stunning. The building is spectacular; it is open and airy, without the dingy 19th century feel of many Natural History Museums. The living roof is truly extraordinary, with views of the park and city. Flowers grow, apparently animals make homes; my son was in awe. He kept reiterating how the living roof was keeping the building cool. We will surely return to see the evolution of the roof ecosystem.

There were vestiges of the old Academy of Sciences, including the seahorse gate surrounding the alligator swamp. My son marveled at Claude the Albino alligator and marched right up to a docent to ask if he was alive. Claude didn’t move much but made quite an impression.
Much was still under construction, the café was closed and training new workers, but the high points included the shark and ray display, the interactive kiosks and of course penguin feeding time. There was Pete the five-year-old penguin who likes to sit on the penguin feeders’ lap and of course Pierre the penguin a famous 25-year-old senior citizen who had a wetsuit designed for him because he was balding. He was apparently unable to swim or regulate his body temperature and was being picked on by the other penguins.  He even has his own Wikipedia page. I’m happy to say Pierre’s feathers grew back, thanks to the wet suit, and he is thriving in his new environment.

The staff was omnipresent and keen to offer information. Two of my favorite “exhibits” were the hand dryers in the bathrooms and the water fountains. The hand dryers are these newfangled, super fast blower things; it was hard to get my son out of the restroom. The water fountains - so hard to find these days in public spaces - have signs touting the benefits of tap water over bottled water. All in all, the San Francisco Academy of Sciences is the greenest museum on Earth, and well worth a visit.