Every writer dreams of an exclusive celebrity scoop and I got one to top them all: Santa Claus! Not only did the head elf himself give me the inside scoop on what he loves about Ottawa but I also got to spend some time with him in his very own plane. That's right - Santa doesn't just fly a sleigh but he also offers 15 minute aerial tours of downtown Ottawa in a vintage Cessna 172 in conjunction with Ottawa Aviation Adventures as part of a program in support of the Ottawa Food Bank.

There was just one tiny complication. The plane is tiny. Santa is all-knowing. And I'm a big ol' scarde-y cat. An Anti-Adventurist, if you will. Would my notorious stomach hold up in a vintage aircraft? Would my nerve hold up if Santa started grilling me about whether I was naughty or nice?

I used to think travel bloggers were really dedicated to their craft... that was, until I stepped into the shoes of food and recipe bloggers for an afternoon.

What I thought would be a simple photography challenge of capturing some pretty cookies ended up as an exhausting, sweaty affair - and that was just the effort it took to scrub my kitchen to get it photo ready! For those of you who do this everyday, I tip my hat to you. It takes extraordinary effort and skill. Meanwhile, I think I'll stick to my day job of chatting about travel but there's no way I'm letting all those photos go to waste so I'm going to borrow one more page from my foodie friends and share the recipe and process here.

These travel-inspired Black Forest cookies have THREE kinds of chocolate in them, are filled with moist cherries, are super easy to make (at least, they are when you don't have to photograph them,) and they're perfect for festive occasions like Valentine's Day or Christmas. 

To be clear, I didn't invent these cookies. All credit goes to Beth at The First Year blog. Please check out her site to see her original notes and the gorgeous photos that originally inspired me.

"Are you open?" It was nearly three in the afternoon, far too late for lunch and way too early for dinner. But I was starving. Starving! And the small, unassuming Italian restaurant which I had passed earlier in the day suddenly felt like just the ticket. 

The older waitress shook her head emphatically from side to side. I pushed aside a micro-flash of confusion then nimbly skipped over the threshold. This was Bulgaria, where shaking your head "no" is actually a gesture for "yes", and catching on was easier said than done. Once inside, I was greeted by the mouthwatering smell of cinnamon, so bright and vibrant that I could only conclude that the restaurant was using its pizza ovens to make baked goods during their downtime. 

The staff of Sofia's Restaurant Balito (ul. "Pozitano" 50, 1303 Pette Kyosheta) laughed when I inquired about what they were baking. I was smelling an air freshener! Perhaps I was more hungry than I realized or Bulgaria must make the best commercial scents in the world. Either way, I couldn't shake my craving, even after several courses of savory Italian delicacies. I knew I had to find the best apple pie in Sofia. 

The bones are loose and barely holding together. The meat and sinew have all but disappeared. What little is left threatens to slip away at any moment, taking what remains of the little elephant and scattering it along the river bank,  letting it slip into the water, letting it melt away.

There's a sense the other elephant knows this. Though he uses his trunk to jostle and even toss what is left of the baby's remains, there's a gentle urgency to it. Wake up. Wake up now and you won't be left to fragment. Wake up and you won't be reduced to crumbs.

I am intruding. There is an intimacy here between the living and the dead that's palatable. This is a private moment. While our safari vehicle is a safe distance away - respectable, even - I feel awkward, embarrassed by our proximity, ashamed by how hungrily I suck back the scene. If asked, I would use my interest in nature as a shield. Exactly how often does one see an elephant mourning ritual? Perhaps if I cling to this I'll feel better about the moisture which goes everywhere save for my parched mouth.

​The sun is starting to set. In less than an hour the park will be black. I am haunted by this jumbled-up pile of bones and by this adult who won't mosey on. I want to scream at it to move lest it spend all night next to a corpse, easy pickings for predators and ghosts alike. But its grief is a glue.

A distant passage I once read awakens in my mind, like a lazy cat indulging in a luxurious stretch after a very long nap. "Her face was like stone." It takes me more than a year to place it. It's from Bruce Northam's Globetrotter Dogma: 100 Canons For Escaping The Rat Race and Exploring The World and it reads:

​"While visiting a hospital in Delhi, India, I observed a mother carrying her dead infant down a long dim hallway, out the front door of the hospital, and into her gruesomely impoverished neighborhood. Her face was like stone."

The beauty of Botswana's Chobe National Park contains an embarrassment of riches. It is a lifetime of journeys away from the grim hospital and tableau of death Northam observed decades earlier. But his words about grief won't leave me. I can hear them in the elephant's gentle grunting breath.

Her face was like stone. Her face was like stone. Her face was like stone.

Is there anything cozier than stumbling into a delightfully snug wine bar with a full roaring fire at the end of a long travel day? Perhaps the only thing better is when said wine bar also doubles as a spectacular restaurant - and is owned by one of the kindest families you've ever met. This very scenario was our introduction to Orvieto wine, food, and family - and it set a new bar for hospitality, not just for all other Italian towns but indeed everywhere we travel.

​Here's what made Orvieto such a wonderfully cozy destination for us, including our beloved wine bar and our new favourite hotel, lovingly decorated by local artists.

The North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii's most populated island, is one of the world's most famous surfing spots. But I am one of the world's most famous wimps - how is it possible that I fell head over heels in love with such a daredevil destination? 

Sometimes opposites really DO attract. I've been telling people by word of mouth just how much I love the North Shore for years now. It was one of the very first trips Ryan and I ever made together and we often get asked for recommendations. How can it be that we've never written it all down? So here it is - a story of love at first sight, sandy feet, gourmet treats, and a little bit of everything for everyone.

Julius Ceasar, Saint Peter, Spartacus, and now the team from Turnipseed Travel.... there's been more than a few legends who've walked, rode, and peddled their way down the Appian Way. This ancient highway, nearly 400 miles of engineering marvel, connected Rome with southern Italy and the sea, forming a critical trade and communications link with Greece and Egypt.

​Considered the world's first super highway,  everyone who was anyone traveled along the Appian Way, along with over two thousand years of worth of anonymous citizens too. We were happy to start our first day in Rome by following in their footsteps! 

What's your idea of a great bargain or splurge in Switzerland? Maybe chocolate from a hidden store followed up with a custom Swiss watch? Or a hike through the Alps before rounding out the day with some chic apres-ski? All good ideas, but Switzerland is a country that beckons you to dig deeper, look beyond the stereotypes, and explore the unexpected.

This is especially true of Bern, home to the seat of the Swiss government. It's smaller and less flashy than other Swiss cities and is often underrated by many as a result. But not by me! Bern has had a special place in my heart from my very first trip - and I was eager to discover it once more from a new perspective and with a new budget. 

One of the first big trips Ryan and I did together was a two week adventure through the American Southwest, with plenty of time in Las Vegas. We were so excited to check out the city's legendary casino buffet scene that we even invested in the "Buffet of Buffets" all you can eat package.  I hadn't made it halfway through our 24 hour pass before I tapped out. Can someone please pass the vegetables!?

While Vegas is a more extreme example, I experience the same conflict on every trip; my desire to indulge is constantly fighting with my will to survive and avoid scurvy.  As such, I constantly have an eye out for a mythical perfect dish that manages to be both decadent and nutritious, enthralling my senses without destroying my stomach.

In Rome - in its own way, the original Las Vegas, a swirling, enchanting, hedonistic kind of town - I found exactly what I was looking for with humble bruschetta. And with our very own "nonna" (a real Roman grandmother and expert home cook) by our side for an evening, we couldn't go wrong. Nonna Antonella was dishing out recipes AND great advice!