At the heart of London is Covent Garden, a place buzzing with culture, sophistication, and innovation. Eat at one of the many restaurants here, soak up the atmosphere at one of the trendy bars, or enjoy the thrill of the opera at the Royal Opera House. It’s hard not to be swept up in the historic and artistic feel of Covent Garden and, regardless of how many times you have previously visited, there will always be new things and places to discover here. If you are planning a trip to the city, this should be firmly on your list of places to visit, and with the Travelodge by Covent Garden you can afford to stay in the very epicentre of the action for an even better experience. Here’s what’s on in Covent Garden this March:

Ballet
From the end of February through until April, the Royal Opera House is home to the Royal Ballet, as they tell the classic tale of The Sleeping Beauty. Adapted for ballet by Petipa, this is a story that adults and children alike will know inside out. Breathtakingly brought to life on the stage by these incredible ballerinas, the tale has a whole new elegant appeal. The Sleeping Beauty ballet has history here too, as it was the first ballet performed when the Company reopened following WWII – now showing again with some modern adaptations.

Art
Just a five-minute walk from Covent Garden market is the National Gallery, home to some of the most iconic works of art in the world. Since January the gallery has offered the rare opportunity to see two of the five Van Gogh Sunflower paintings in one place, as the Van Gogh Museum has kindly lent their incarnation to the National Gallery. Running until the end of April this year, this may well be the only chance art lovers get to compare and contrast these two works in the flesh.

Comedy
A new show to the comedy circuit this March is the much-anticipated Blithe Spirit written by the marvelous Noel Coward, and directed by Michael Blakemore. The story follows Charles Condomine who skeptically invites a medium to his house. Unfortunately for him, although fortunately for the audience, the ghost of his dead wife Elvira is summoned, and she takes an immediate dislike to Charles’ new wife, who of course can’t see Elvira. The result is a play that is funny, well acted and intriguing. All in all it’s a must for any comedy theatre fan.

Covent Garden is famous for many things, and there is something going on all hours of the day and night in this fabulous area of London. Accessible by all forms of transport, you can wander the market, check out the high-end boutiques and enjoy a coffee in the square by day, and by night you can have dinner and drinks before indulging in some of the most wonderful nightlife the city has to offer. If you love culture and traditional forms of entertainment such as ballet, art and the theatre then there is no better choice than Covent Garden.

Post by Catherine Lavinia in coordination with Travelodge Covent Garden. Thank you so much for contributing to Of Revolt, Catherine! // Photography Credits: 1 and 2. 

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So I’ve lately become Pinterest-obsessed. OBSESSED, I tell you. To the point where Dan and I will be sitting on the couch together, marathon-watching whatever TV show we’re currently into (right now it’s American Horror Story. Jessica Lange kills me. Forget Helen Mirren, I want to age into Jessica Lange. The woman is 64 and doesn’t look a day over 42. Those cheekbones! Stunning.), and I’ll be furtively sneaking peeks at my phone, refreshing the page over and over to see the latest pins.

It’s a sickness, and I am not ashamed.

Anyway, one of my favorite topics to search (after squee-inducing baby animals and bitchy SomeECards), is – you guessed it – travel. It’s pretty much the ultimate travel porn site. Lots of pretty pictures of lots of pretty places? SIGN ME UP.

One of my biggest regrets (if you could even really call it that) when it comes to our 2011 tour through Europe was our omission of Spain. Now, I’ve actually been to Barcelona, back in 2005, when my friends and I made a weekend excursion there whilst studying abroad in France. Even just those three days were enough to make me wish we’d had a much, MUCH longer stay. Of course, as broke college students traveling through countries where the exchange rate didn’t favor us, we ended up staying in some cheap, sketchy hostel, though if – ahem, when – I make my grand return to Spain, I’ll definitely choose one from amongst these gorgeous Barcelona hotels.

I’d definitely hit Barcelona again – the wild architecture of the city and the carnival that is Las Ramblas are too fantastic to never see again – though I’d also add in Madrid and Sevilla. More than anything, though, I’m dying to see the Moorish architecture in cities like Cordoba and Granada.

Supposedly a great deal of the beauty of Moorish/Islamic art is based in its sacred geometry – the idea that certain shapes and proportions are particularly meaningful or symbolic. I don’t know much about it, and I don’t think I need to in order to appreciate its inherent worth.

Besides, did you see that recipe for gazpacho? Delicious! (I pinned it twice, for good measure.) (No, I didn’t.) (Help.)

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As a unified state, the Kingdom of Italy only emerged in the second half of the 19th century, a fusion of the Latin (Roman) region and the more rural south. The name Italy can be traced back to ancient times, but was originally used by Greek settlers to refer to the southernmost part of the peninsula only. Its heritage is culturally rich, from the rise of the Etruscan, Hellenic, and Roman civilizations in ancient times to the key role Italy placed in the European Renaissance of the late Middle Ages; influential artists Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo left a legacy that continues to attract millions of visitors even today.

Over centuries, Italy has inspired artists, poets, writers and architects: for those looking for more contemporary inspiration, the country is home to some of the most inspiring fashion designers and popular cuisines in the world. With a landscape and a climate like Italy’s, it’s not that hard to see why. Explore this Mediterranean country for yourself and let the muse take you.

Most beautiful places in Italy

The Amalfi Coast is one of Italy’s top tourist destinations and is home to some of the country’s wealthiest, glitziest resorts, including the glorious island of Capri.

The Aeolian Islands are a rugged collection of small, volcanic islands clustered between Naples and Sicily; the largest, Lipari is known for its pumice stone quarry, while Stromboli will strike a chord with Bergman aficionados.

The Italian Lakes region encompasses the lakes Maggiore, Como, Garda and Orta.  The area has been popular for over a century, with elegant spa towns and fin de siècle hotels making the perfect out-of-season retreat. Other towns, such as Torbole, fill up with water sports enthusiasts come high season.

Urbino was once the home of three Renaissance greats – the artists Botticelli, Piero della Francesca and Raphael. A World Heritage Site today, it’s not far from the popular resort of Rimini and affords glorious views from its hilltop location.

The Dolomite Mountains form the Italian range of the Alps.  They are a popular skiing destination in winter and for hiking in summer.

Popular attractions

The canals of Venice have long been synonymous with romance, and Venice attracts millions of tourists every year who travel to this ‘city of love’ for the unique architecture, the atmospheric passageways, the canals and the gondolas. As such, there’s no off-season in Venice: book a hotel well in advance to be sure of a room.

With its many antiquities, including the Colosseum, the Pantheon, and the Castel Sant’Angelo, the ancient city of Rome is one of Italy’s perennial tourist attractions.

Around 2.5 million tourists each year visit Pompeii near Naples.  They come to see the spooky remains of the 1,700 year-old Roman city that was preserved in volcanic ash after the devastating eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa is why most people visit this medieval center of commerce in northern Tuscany; it took more than a century to finish, having begun to sink into its poorly laid foundations shortly after construction began in 1173. It’s possible today to climb the 296 steps to the top of the tower.

Florence is like one vast outdoor museum, so numerous are its artistic and architectural treasures, which are scattered across galleries, churches and museums; Michelangelo’s David continues to leave onlookers in awe 500 years after it was commissioned, while the Uffizi gallery is home to one of the greatest collection of paintings in the world. The city’s beautiful cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore boasts one of the largest domes ever built.

Many visitors come to Tuscany for its beautiful landscape and stunning, well-preserved historic towns, such as Siena, which has managed to retain most of the masterpieces of art and architecture produced in the region’s medieval heyday.

In addition, cities such as Naples, Milan, Genoa, and Bologna are all fascinating settlements with a rich history, wonderful architecture and plenty of shopping and dining possibilities.

Getting to and around Italy

Most visitors from the U.S. and Canada arrive in Italy by plane, and there are numerous airports, including Venice, Rome, Naples, and Milan, that offer international connections. The best prices can be found by taking a little time to google flights to find the best deals. If arriving from other countries in Europe or wishing to tour the region, the state-owned Italian train network Trenitalia is remarkably comprehensive and very reasonably-priced. Hiring a car is also an option for those wishing to see the more remote parts of the country.   

Guest post by Aimee Claire. Thank you so much for contributing to Of Revolt, Aimee!

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All right, all right. So Maryland and West Virginia aren’t really “The South” as we know it from TV, what with its charming drawls and sprawling antebellum architecture. But it’s south of New York and besides, “Scenes from a Few of the Mid-Atlantic States” just doesn’t have the same sexy ring to it.

Anyway, Dan and I took a road trip to these two states back in August and because this year is LITERALLY FLYING PAST ME (I know that this is not just me. Everyone agrees that 2013 shall go down in history as the year that could not wait to be over. And yet, I’m having a super great year and I don’t really want it to be over. Odd-numbered years are sort of my jam), I am just now getting around to blogging about it. 

So here she blows! Photos and recommendations from our long weekend, two months ago. Enjoy.

^^ Tootsies on the dash and the open road. My nail polish looks fabulous, if I do say so myself. (Color is Jelly Apple by Essie.) ^^

^^ Arriving in historic Thomas, West Virginia. Most towns call themselves “historic” because they have no better claim to fame, but Thomas is, quite literally, historic – walking down the main (only!) street feels like stepping back in time. It was a coal mining boom town in the early 1900s, and while it’s a sleepy little place these days, the shops along East Avenue have been lovingly and carefully preserved. ^^

^^ Miners & Merchants Bank, the only bank in town. ^^

^^ We stayed at the Purple Fiddle Hostel & Guest House (again, the only one of its kind in town, which you’ll notice is a trend around those parts). Don’t you just love the giant red faces on those beautiful sunflowers? ^^

^^ Snacks at Tip Top Coffee Bar, which were almost painfully delicious. When we arrived in Thomas, we stopped first at the Purple Fiddle Cafe, where Dan was playing, figuring we could drop off his equipment and grab a coffee there. We asked for coffees at the counter and the girl goes, “You don’t want our coffee. Go to Tip Top, out the door and to your right, about 40 paces. They make the best coffee in town, like a real Brooklyn cafe.”
The reasons I loved that were twofold: one, because every store in town can be described by the number of paces to get there. And two, because it was literally the best coffee I’ve ever had outside of Paris. Far better than any Brooklyn cafe. ^^

^^ This gave me a throw-my-head-back, deep belly laugh. Who needs a glass when you can put the citrus right on the can? Heretofore referred to as, “West Virginia style.” ^^

^^ My cute guy doing his thing at the Purple Fiddle. In addition to seriously delicious sandwiches and a whole heap of craft beers, the cafe serves what they call “karma soup.” Anyone who’s hungry and doesn’t have money to eat can ask at the counter for a bowl of karma soup and it’s free, every time, no questions asked. Good karma, indeed. ^^

^^ Frederick, Maryland was all pretty town house after pretty town house. I loved this one especially for its crimson door and Mini Cooper (my fave!) parked out front. Every time I pass a place like this I think, I could live here. ^^

^^ One of the coolest things about Frederick was the abundance of murals gracing the sides of its buildings. This one actually startled me at first, when I turned a corner and came upon it. The painted man has “Mona Lisa eyes”: you know the ones, they watch you and move when you move. The white shapes behind him aren’t ghosts; they’re his wings. And if you haven’t read the Gabriel García Márquez story “A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings,” you should just stop whatever you’re doing and go read it because it will break your heart in all the right ways. Go ahead, we’ll wait. ^^

We stayed overnight in Thomas because of Dan’s performance schedule there, but both Thomas and Frederick are perfect towns for lingering in for a few hours and then passing through. The shop owners keep regular hours and they all do only one thing, but they do that thing very well. Towns like these are small and simple and lovely, like a daydream you had on a cool, cloudy day, and it’s not easy to find this kind of America anymore.

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From city life to its stunning coastline, the southeast Irish city of Waterford has plenty to offer its array of visitors from all over the world. By basing yourself at the Waterford Travelodge, you have access to all of the delights that both the city and its outskirts have, and there are plenty.

As the oldest city in Ireland, it’s no wonder that Waterford has its share of history and culture, while also providing tourists and locals alike ample modern amenities, including some stunning restaurants, boutiques and pubs to immerse yourself in.

Copper Coast Geopark
Situated between Tramore and Dungarven, the Copper Coast European Geopark is home to 25km (approx. 15.5 miles) of breathtaking coastline, which would be the perfect place to start an exploration of your trip of the southeast coast.

Waterford Museum of Treasures
Located at the Granary, the Waterford Museum of Treasures is home to some beautiful antiquities and rare artifacts that, with the help of state-of-the-art technologies, are brought to life with interactive and audio-visual elements so that visitors can truly appreciate the exhibits in all their glory.

Waterford Crystal Visitor Centre
This center is probably one of the most famous attractions of Waterford, and includes a brand new complex that is home to the largest collection of Waterford Crystal in the world as well as a retail store where you can purchase your own piece of crystal.

Comeragh Mountains
Home to a rather varied expanse of landscape, the Comeragh Mountains are perfect for the adventurous type. Whether walking and hiking is your forte or you have access to a mountain bike, the vistas and panoramas that are waiting are simply incredible.

The Viking Quarter
It’s no secret that Waterford is awash with history dating back to the Viking times. In fact, you can enjoy over 1,000 years of history – from Vikings to Victorians – within just a few paces. Take a walking tour of the area if you would like to take in as much as possible, stopping by sights such as Reginald’s Tower, Greyfriars, and Bishops Palace.

Visit Waterford this autumn and you’ll be able to flawlessly mix medieval and modern attractions to achieve an unforgettable, well-rounded break. 
Photography Credits: The Library of Congress, c. 1890-1900 // Guest post by Catherine Lavinia in coordination with Travelodge Ireland. Thanks so much for contributing to Of Revolt, Catherine!

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This is a story from our time in Europe, and it’s a true story, and it’s coming in parts. This is part three, probably of four. To read part one, click here. To read part two, click here. 

Days passed. We got sick to our stomachs, stopped drinking the water, drank mostly beer instead. We ate a lot of ramen, the hostel’s “fully equipped kitchen” limited to a sink, microwave, and some mismatched flatware that was hoarded by ourselves and other guests.

We checked out of the Avantgarde with an hour before sunset. The day was still warm and we were loaded with suitcases. We had decided to walk to A.’s, the friend of a friend who had agreed to host us and who was also throwing a house concert that Dan would perform in. The walk would be forty-five minutes, we calculated, and from our map it seemed that most of it passed through a park. We looked forward to short breaks under the trees.

Dan led the way out of city center; his height and slight puff of curl at the crown of his head making him easy to follow in the crowd, though my aptitude with maps usually results in me being the guide.

There’s more to notice when you’re being led rather than leading. Details pop out of the picture and make themselves available for consideration. The sky opens up when you’re not looking at street signs. Tops of buildings have color; church steeples and chimneys and air have geometry. We paused at a curb for the light to change, and a small group of children monkeyed around on a series of statues depicting a man melting into the sidewalk, grim-faced before the transformation even began.
Streets were hacked up and construction tape obstructed our crossings more and more frequently as we exited the center. By the time we reached the park, the sun had mostly set and despite a few streetlights scattered around the perimeter, none lit the interior.

“Should we take a bus the rest of the way?” I wondered aloud.“How would we know what bus to take?”“We could try asking someone.”“Let’s just keep going; it can’t be that much longer.”

We walked side by side through the park, passing a bruised and mealy apple back and forth that one of us eventually got fed up with and threw into a bush. The wide concrete paths were a pleasant change after dragging our luggage through so much torn up cobblestone. A few joggers and bicyclists passed by, as well as one young mother pushing a stroller and talking loudly on her phone.

We didn’t talk a lot during the walk, having learned in the last nine months of traveling – a time during which we’d literally spent every minute in each other’s company – that silence was both necessary and appreciated. The other’s mere physical presence was comfort enough to quietly draw back inside our minds and hover there, detached from body and suspended in time, save for the rhythmic click of leather soles on the pavement denoting that seconds and even whole minutes were passing as we made our way to a there that was changing all the time.

            And then, the road ended.           
           The smooth concrete dropped suddenly off a 3-inch ledge that rattled our suitcases and the bones in my wrist. Three dirt pathways stretched out in front of us, invisible only 10 paces back thanks to the immense, encompassing darkness.

            We consulted our technology. The phone, still halfway charged, lost whatever satellite signal it usually picked up on, and the blue dot that was us expanded and contracted, then hovered in a meaningless gray grid. I unfolded the city map and the phone was instantly reduced to a barely serviceable flashlight.
            “The map ended.”            
“What do you mean?”           
 “I mean that this map doesn’t extend past the neighborhoods surrounding the city center. It only has the beginning of this park here at the top. Here, look,” I pointed, and Dan leaned in a little closer.            
“Okay,” he said, drawing the last syllable out long until it trailed off, falling away from his lips like a pebble down a cliff.            
“I think we should either make a left and see if we can’t go around the edge of the park on the sidewalk or just continue straight. When I looked at the map online it seemed like we were supposed to go straight the whole way through.”            
“The only thing with making the turn is it might take us a long time—”         “You do realize that this supposedly 40-minute walk has already turned into an hour and twenty minute extravaganza, right?” I could tell even in the dark that he was raising his eyebrows in silent disapproval of my frustration. “Sorry,” I added.

            “Look, let’s just keep going straight and see what happens.” He hiked the backpack a little higher on his shoulders and picked his guitar up from where he’d set it gently in the dirt. I readjusted my purse, gripped Spike’s handle, and started walking.
Pulling a suitcase along a dirt path is work enough already; dragging it on plastic, wheel-less stumps requires a near Herculean effort. Despite the cool air, beads of sweat formed around my hairline. It might as well have been a body.
“This thing might as well be a dead body,” I huffed to Dan, who let out a short laugh and returned quickly to silence.

Time passed and it no longer mattered, minutes being less scarce and somehow easier to come by here in Poland than in New York. Each moment in the darkness seemed to swell and stretch until it resembled the murkiness of time in childhood, sifting through and trying to make sense of a hundred disparate sensations for no reason other than it seemed like a thing that must be done.

I started counting my steps and decided that was horribly boring. I thought of other places I’d rather be and how miserably short and wet the summer had been, how bad weather had chased us across the continent. I felt blisters form on the bridge of my palm and ignored them.

Dan caught sight of an orange light flickering between the trees that he hoped aloud would be a major intersection up ahead. For a few minutes, following it was enough for us to feel good, buoyed by what we’d been told over and over was our natural American optimism. It was short-lived. The disappointment we felt when it wasn’t from streetlamps but rather an empty factory surrounded in barbed wire, bathing in its own chemical glow was nothing short of painful. I swallowed hard, tamping down the belief that the last few days of illness, the persistent unfriendliness we’d encountered, and the physical and aesthetic coldness of our strange room at the Avantgarde were merely components to the story that would later be “our Polish adventure” might instead be portents of this rather darker reality that we currently faced. 

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