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[Colleen Thomas]

I just returned from a day trip to New Orleans. I find the city to be one of the most erotic places on earth. So much for the romantic as well as a healthy dose of in your face sexuality.

The variety of people is astonishing. In a three block ride down Canal I saw A tall, blonde obviously scandinavian girl, A really heavily muscled redheaded guy who looked like he would have been at home on the streets of Dublin, black girls, Creoles, hispanic guys with their girls, tourists of all variets and those who you just knew were locals.

As wide as the variety of people were the varried styles of achitecture, from modern sky scrapers to ancient dwellings in the spanish & french styles.

I have set a couple of stories in New O. While riding back home I got to thinking maybe a thread where people could give descriptions & details about places they have visited or live in that they find erotic/exotic would be a great resource to us all. There is nothing quite as nice as being able to ask someone with first hand experience what a place is like you are writing about.

-Colly

 

[neonlyte]

Colly

See Will's 'Travels' thread.

NL

 

[minsue]

The way you write about New Orleans reminds me, oddly enough, of Puerto Vallarta. I was also captivated by the mix of architecture and the mix of people. It's worth going just for the statues on the boardwalk.

I loved that, whenever we were in the tourist-y sections, vendors would cry out to us, "Honeymooners! Come in, honeymooners!" All young couples are honeymooners in Puerto Vallarta. And that we were asked an untold number of times if we were Canadian. The shocked expressions when we said we were from Arizona were priceless. "But you're so WHITE!"

 

[lucky-E-leven]

Venice, Italy.

Hands down the most exotic/erotic place I've ever been.

~lucky

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Venice, Italy.

Hands down the most exotic/erotic place I've ever been.

~lucky

Because?????????

 

[minsue]

Because?????????

Thank you.

 

[NoJo]

I think Venice is incredibly beautiful and romantic. I'd very happily live there. Can't say I find it erotic though (Except for some of the Tintoretto's).

I find as a North European that warm, humid places are more erotic -- places where languid women strut the streets licking icecreams on a hot night. Like Southern Italy. And N.O. sounds great.

 

[Colleen Thomas]

N.O. is sunny, humid & the pace is very languid in the quarter. The lack of through traffic means more pedestrians and a slower, sexier pace.

-Colly

 

[lucky-E-leven]

I guess the mystique of Venice is what turns me on most. The entire time I was there, my mind was flooded with thoughts of what might have happened there long ago. The simple fact that traveling from place to place by boats that were all human powered at one time is exotic. The grime on the buildings that has accumulated over time gives it a distinct charm. The crumbling plaster from chapel walls and the ornate decor that can be seen inside of flats when riding a waterbus down the main canal, makes me long to tour the homes and lives of people that live there. The history of St. Mark's Cathedral as well as the history of its patrons, intrigues me and sets the imagination into overdrive.

Maybe more than anything it's the fact that so much thought and effort was put into the architecture there. Bridges have personality. Exterior window frames are more crafted than all of the moulding and detail within my own home. Fireplaces stand 6 feet tall and 5 feet wide. Everything about it, even covered in grime and obviously aged, is beautiful and wondrous.

And while I can't put my finger on any one thing exactly, the feeling I had was shared by many. As around every corner I turned there were couples kissing and gazing into one another's eys. They'd lean their heads together and one would point at something and it was intense to see the same look of wonder grace both their faces in the same instant of recognition.

I watched a couple that was obviously a little awkward about public affection climb into a gondola and instantly snuggle under the blanket, becoming the couple they were behind closed doors. I hate to say there's just something about Venice, but right now that's all I can come up with. Some writer, eh?


~lucky

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I rarely get to travel, but New Orleans would be on my top ten list.

I think because it's an old city and a magical city that it draws me towards it, plus the fact that I'm an Ann Rice fan. I don't want to picture it as the boobie flashing Mardi Gras drunkfest, but as the mysterious,cultural melting pot I imagine it to be with the blend of races,religions and fine cuisine.

The only place I always find, I guess romantic, is the shore, anywhere. The sound of the waves on a semi-secluded beach, the smell of the salt air, wondering about the people that walked the same path that I walked. Looking out over the great expanse knowing that across from me may be another person on a different shore, thinking the same thoughts. Do they long to visit here as much as I long to visit other lands as well.
Then I think about going out a few miles and then down....what lies under that water, all the life that is teeming below, eating, sleeping, reproducing, and surviving. Not conscience of what is outside of their aquatic life.

I read up on many of the locations I would love to visit and try to imagine what it would be like to be there.
To stand before the great Pyramid, the desert heat burning my skin, but I don't even notice it because I am in awe.

To be in the hustle and bustle of downtown Tokyo or the shrines of Kyoto.

I could walk for hours in the Imperial City of China. Stealing a touch, running my fingers across the intricate carvings made by simple artisans long dead and anonymous.

I want to go back to Gettysburg, not far from where I live and imagine what went through the minds of those scared and brave young Americans that lost their lives so horribly in a matter of days.

I've been to Philidelphia and walked the same streets and visited the same buildings that were once an every day occurance to the people that helped to found this nation.

I know that I would never have survived Colonial times if I were thrown back to them.

I could not spend my days aboard a whaling ship, being away for months at a time, chasing these huge majestic creatures in a simple masted, wooden vessel.

Maybe these things are not exotic or erotic, but I am in awe of the world and all we choose not to see or experience.

~A~

 

[Wills]

OK let's try Venice.

My first visit 1972, student of Architecture visit accompanied by the most knowledgeable Professor of little known facts from the Byzantine, Rennaisence and Palladian periods of design. Memorable in so many ways. Even now I revisit places in Venice virtually unknown to the tourist trail.

My second visit with three architectural students for the Biennial in 1973. Huge fun lads away from home. Though the Venetian girls were way too cool even then.

My third visit, with my wife of six months 1975, possibly the most romantic visit. We still use the same hotel, even the same room when available. We wandered the streets in the dark of night, cats and rats scuttling away into dark corners. Took early morning ferries across the lagoon watching the mist part across the water and joined the restauranteurs shopping at the market.

My fourth and fifth visits were strictly Biennial affairs.

My sixth visit, introduced our daughter to Venice in 1990?. Her delight outshone the beauty of the city if that were possible. Indelible memories, her rendering of a Mark Chagall painting that adorns my wall. Suprising a young woman pissing into the canal and a musical gondola ride with a young woman and her parents, the young woman was taking over the lead role in Phantom of the Opera in Paris and sung her role as we cruised the canals. Unforgettable.

My seventh visit just two years ago, a refresher to fill the soul, another Biennial and all too short.

I have so many memories of Venice but know little of the Venetians, their way of life or habits. It seems to me to be essentially a jewel, for the most part lovingly protected, but prone to the effect of mass tourism. If you want the real Venice, head away from the tourist zones, head for the outer islands, wander, enjoy, savour the taste, the smell and the sites.

Frito Misto small batter fried fish, squid and prawn, a squeeze of lemon and a glass of chilled white.

Will's

 

[minsue]

Some writer, eh?

~lucky

Oh, bullshit, Lucky dear. I was transported. Thank you.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Oh, bullshit, Lucky dear. I was transported. Thank you.

Well, I think that was to the point.

 

[Guest]

I can't help but want to share this with anyone who knows and loves Venice. These are excerpts of a piece I wrote after my first trip to Europe to visit my brother in Vienna. - Perdita
---------
Saturday, Arturo, Brigitta and I drove to Venice arriving mid-afternoon. Despite common exposure to the usual images, I had no intimation of what I was soon to experience. Venice makes for beautiful images, seemingly incredible and unreal, yet one cannot begin to truly imagine her. You have to be there—there.

I can only compare it to falling in love—the assaulting surprise of it—but there I was unequivocally requited. I left a watery core of my self in Venice, and will have to return from time to time, to drink and be full again.

Contrary to expectation and common gossip I encountered only pleasurable scents, at times of the sea, often of an unknown aromatic spice or sweetness. Brigitta noticed it too. The air not only caressed but permeated—I felt skinless and free, a profound calm. I have always been of a romantically spiritual bent, but this was beyond my nature’s ken.

The three of us shared a room in a small hotel in San Marco near the Palazzo Grassi, only a few minutes walk to the Piazza. The deep ledged windows were hung with typical dark green wooden shutters and held a simple view of similar housing across our calle, San Samuele. A colorfully ornate Murano glass chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. For our two nights there I gave in to Brigitta’s preference for closed windows and shutters, but had I been alone I would have kept them wide open all night. Sleeplessness would only have meant taking in my new lover more thoroughly.

We went to the Fortuny Museum right away after checking in lest we miss our only chance to see the exhibits before its closing for the weekend. There were three special dresses on view, each with the elegant pleatings of silk, and colors like musical dynamics—bass carmine, coloratura yellow, tenore azure. The palazzo itself looked a work of art, like all other palazzi, like Fortuny couture.

A disappointing first night dinner. So what. I feed on love and art. “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore.”

On Sunday I separated purposely from my brother and sister-in-law, who went to the Arsenale for the Biennale’s architectural exhibition. I spent the day wending my way in divagatious exploration of my dream.

I spent a long languorous lunchtime outside in a small campo’s cafe. I had intended to sit for hours and read, drink and smoke. I could not read. A poet friend told me he understood this, that perhaps only Proust could provide parallel states while reading him in Venice. One could be drowning, fully immersed in the sensuality of the language, look up from the page, and hardly sense the difference. I will have to read Proust’s Venice in Venice.

I sat, drank, smoked and watched everything around me as if I did not exist. There seemed nothing of me but a fleeting consciousness I did not at all mind losing. I, who am at times obsessed with self identity, did not care in Venice who I was—and so—felt utterly myself.

Without regret I did not go into St. Mark’s basilica or the Doges’ Palace, nor visit the Accademia, for I wanted only to see the facades, the robes and surfaces that begin to seduce.

I think of Shakespeare’s great metaphor on art and drama, a “mirror to nature”. Here all is reflection—the Grand Canal and rios, the glass and light. Venice defies the laws of nature and allows me to break them—I am everywhere at once here, yet nowhere.

I know I cannot feel alone in Venice—our concinnities are flawless, unalloyed as the countless petrified wooden poles that hold her up. Her mystery bit deep into my soul—a lover’s bite of unfettered desire—an obscure, voluptuous wound.

I took no camera to Europe, but Brigitta brought hers to Venice. We took just five photos. Without knowing Goldoni, the 18th century Venetian playwright, his laughing statue in the Campo San Bartolomeo complemented our spirits. My brother posed happily at its base. I also read in a tour-guide book—they do mean much more after one’s travels—that the campo was a fitting spot for “a writer who drew his inspiration from daily social intercourse.”

At Florian’s we exchanged picture-taking with a tourist couple, and so we three sit half in light, half in shadow. Brigitta and Arturo smile and look at the camera. I’m in the middle and look as if I’m not really there. On Sunday we passed the Calle Minelli and Arturo had to pose beneath its sign having recently delved into Vincente Minelli’s films. On our last afternoon Brigitta and I posed at the Grand Canal’s edge near the Rialto Bridge. Arturo and I posed before the crowded structure in front of bright blue and green pali designating a particular mooring site. That’s it for my grand tour photo album.

At the end of our last hour in Venice, we stood at a cafe’s bar and ordered three espressos, for the road. The dark liquid velvet was smooth as silk, rich as pure molten gold, and with no trace of bitterness or oil. The taste was marvelous as I imagine Carnavale. As I took up my bags to leave, Brigitta looked at me and declared with a sovereign-like authority, “You will not have another coffee this good until you come back—here.”

 

[Lukie]

Venice is nice!

yes, the city in the water..but the country area of Tuscany can also take a person over....here in the states...I found Key West to be very Romantic and fun! OH, the beaches weren't the best but the aura of Key West is soothing! Let's a person feel free!

 

[oggbashan]

The variety of people is astonishing. In a three block ride down Canal I saw A tall, blonde obviously scandinavian girl, A really heavily muscled redheaded guy who looked like he would have been at home on the streets of Dublin, black girls, Creoles, hispanic guys with their girls, tourists of all variets and those who you just knew were locals.

-Colly

Sounds like the customers in a typical day in my shop. Today I had an Irishman, a Dutch couple, three French families and the locals of all colours. Sitting outside in the street were the local layabouts - black, yellow and white - sharing a six pack of beer.

Og

 

[minsue]

Maybe these things are not exotic or erotic, but I am in awe of the world and all we choose not to see or experience.

~A~

I think it's quite beautiful, A. Hubby and I are going to take an actual vacation this year, a rare occurence in the past a fact which we mean to rectify in the future. I simply cannot decide. I want to go everywhere. His mother and her husband transferred ownership of a timeshare to us that is part of an international network, meaning we can take one week a year pretty much anywhere. Even after narrowing down the options to places that had openings during the time we can take, there are still about 20 countries on the list. I want to see them all.

Please don't get me wrong, though. I am not complaining about this amazing luxury. I never would have imagined that I would have the ability to choose just about anywhere in the world to visit. The mere concept leaves me stunned dumb and unable to choose. I want. I want. I want.

Edited to add: Thanks to Lucky, Wills, & 'Dita who have moved Venice up on my list.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

. The mere concept leaves me stunned dumb and unable to choose. I want. I want. I want.

Edited to add: Thanks to Lucky, Wills, & 'Dita who have moved Venice up on my list.

Time to maybe pin it up on the wall and throw a dart!!!
You can't lose that way and I better get a god damn gooseless postcard!

~A~

 

[Colleen Thomas]

I have set a story in paris, but have never visited, Does anyone feel like telling me about the city of light?

-Colly

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I have set a story in paris, but have never visited, Does anyone feel like telling me about the city of light?

-Colly

Wish I could help Colly, my city used to be called the Electric city, that's the closest thing for me.
I'm sure there is some worldly person out there who has made the trip.
~A~

 

[cloudy]

Copenhagen was wonderful to me.

The sheer sense of history there made me feel small, somehow, and left me in absolute awe of the people there.

The people, in general, are big . Not overweight, but big, larger than life, I suppose owing to their mostly viking ancestry. And they were amazingly beautiful. They were to a person, friendly, helpful, and extended a hand in welcome to me everwhere I turned.

The architecture was astonshing in its complexity and its age. And I was continually amazed that everyone took it for granted. I walked around half the time with my eyes up at the side of some building or other. I could have spent years just walking through the churches.

The people's sense of heritage, and culture also struck me, because we really have no shared culture like that in the US. They were proud to be vikings, and celebrated it on the northern coast of Denmark where I eventually wandered.

Remarkable country.

 

[Guest]

Nanjing China
Population 12 million (in 2000)

This city is a contradiction.

On the one hand you have them trying desperately to be modern, to be like americans. They have these enormous sky scrapers. They have these little red (looks like a honda civic) taxis everywhere. There are bicycles galore. It is extremely rare to find anyone driving a regular car.

The main road that goes straight through the middle of the city is 8 lanes.

and then you take a walk east out of the city and you are dumb struck by the absolutely gorgeous pagodas. The temples that the people of Nanjing fought so desperately to preserve after the Japanese invaders almost wiped them out completely.

They are stunning, tall, and at the same time so incredibly sad to look at. They are the reminder of the past, one that the Chinese are so richly and deeply protective of.

If anyone wants to see some pictures... I have oodles... I was there for 7 months.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

If anyone wants to see some pictures... I have oodles... I was there for 7 months.

I would love too, I always wanted to go to China!!!!

~A~

 

[thenry]

I live in New Orleans, on St. Charles, in a complex with a red brick courtyard and fountain. The streetcars trundle past every ten minutes and I walk down to Audubon park every day to catch my bus. There is little zoning in Orleans parish so all the cafés and coffeeshops are built out of old houses. A bookstore with a great poetry section as well. My girlfriend and I walk down Royal St. to visit art galleries the Louvre buys from and there is free music in a little park during the Spring. Jazz Fest begins this weekend and the French Quarter Fest ended the last, nineteen stages scattered in ten square blocks. I live three blocks from the house in which John Kennedy Toole wrote "Confederacy of Dunces."

Live anywhere long enough and it is through the eyes of the tourists that you see the magic. Even if they do clog up the streetcar with their garden distric viewing. I always wonder how much of the $1.25 fare pays for nostalgia.