Talk about a film celebrating "romance on the road." "Before Sunset" explores the reconnection of one-time lovers Jesse (an American) and Celine (a Parisian) in the City of Light, nine years after their initial rendezvous in Vienna. This 2004 film might convince even skeptics about the possibility of finding true love on the other side of the world.

If there’s anything we single girls know, it’s that hitting the road brings with it the potential of new romance. And that’s the case whether we roll solo or with a group of our favorite girlfriends. That often was true for me, as my lackluster love life tended to perk up exponentially once I left the Chicago city limits. Perhaps we’re less inhibited and more open to adventure when we travel; maybe the old adage that “familiarity breeds contempt” makes men in other places more tempting than those we encounter at home. 

Just in time for Valentine’s Day, I delve the issue of “romance on the road” in “TCW Travel Connection,” the blog I write for Today’s Chicago Woman magazine on ChicagoNow.com.

At the end of my TCW post, I ask: what’s the most romantic thing you’ve encountered during your travels? Did it involve a handsome stranger? A reconnection during a trip with “the one who got away?” Holler back at me!

Here I am in my two-strand twists, visiting an archeological site in rural eastern Turkey near the Armenian border. My carefree hair made a culturally challenging trip way less stressful.

During a break from a wine-tasting tour, I'm standing in front of the Pont d'Avignon in the lovely Provencal town of Avignon. And this is me some days AFTER my stop to a black hair-care supply shop in Nice. Thank goodness black folks literally live everywhere!

Late last month, I wrote about the “hair issues” we black women often face when traveling abroad—and promised to offer some tips about handling these when you’re overseas.

When I first traveled to Europe in the late 1990s, visiting a friend who worked on a U.S. Army base in Germany, I was doing the relaxed hair thing, toting multiple curling irons and assorted lotions and potions in my always-overstuffed suitcase. But once I started hitting the road with friends, all those curling irons became a royal pain. What a hassle to constantly be plugging in, moving irons from one room to the other, waiting for them to cool down before you could pack them, etc. And then there was always the issue of “what if it rains?” 

Now that I’ve been wearing two-strand twist extensions for most of the past five years, that’s no longer a concern. BUT, I have gotten overseas and much to my dismay, realized that I forgot to pack my favorite olive oil sheen or softening lotion. This, my friends, can be a challenge—especially since overseas trips tend to last for more than just a weekend. 

But if you find yourself in a city—especially in Europe—and have arrived sans products, I’ve discovered that black folks and Arabs (who frequently have similar hair textures as ours) often live near the city’s main train station. Perhaps it’s the “immigrant effect,” the fact that newer arrivals to a place often live close to the vehicles that bring them. So if these folks first arrive via train, inexpensive housing in the surrounding area might be their first stop.

When I lived in Florence, Italy, between 2004 and 2005, I (mercifully) found the Nigerian-owned barber shop/salon where I got my twist touch-ups done a couple streets away from the city’s Santa Maria Novella train station. (My young stylist Nina would hook up my twists, while her barber shop-owning brother took care of the African and Arab bros in the adjoining room.) I know that Africans live near Rome’s massive Termini station, as I once found myself strolling through the ‘hood in search of an Ethiopian eatery.

And when visiting the south of France last spring, I didn’t pack my Organic Root Stimulator olive oil sheen spray (as usual, my bag was too full and something had to give). But I figured that once I got to the more cosmopolitan town of Nice, surely I’d use my limited French to find some black folks and some hair spray. So after leaving the city’s main train station, I walked half a block to an Internet café with an Arab guy at the counter. Grateful he spoke some English, I asked, “Where can I find a salon for people with hair like this?” as I gently fingered my twists. OF COURSE, there was one right around the block—and hanging out nearby on street corners were African and Arab men,  just as brothers often do here in the States. It was like I’d never left the South Side of Chicago.

Not only did I find a salon owned by a kind African woman, but she directed me down the block to a black hair-care supply store where I found EVERYTHING I needed, and then some. I’ve made a mental note of the salon’s and store’s street so next time I’m in the south of France and need a hook-up, I am SO there.

Which leads to my next point: do some research BEFORE you leave home. You aren’t planning to find yourself in a massive rainstorm on your next trip, but what if it happens and you aren’t adept at wielding a flat iron and fixing your OWN ‘do? Might be wise to have the name and phone number of a salon in the place you’re going. Think of it like stashing just-in-case antibiotics or a first-aid kit. If you’re headed to Central Europe, EbonyPrague.com can take care of your hair. If you’re going to the UK (thankfully, with black folks galore), check out ItzCaribbean.com for a host of hair salons throughout the metro London area. And if you’re traveling elsewhere in the world, BlackGirlTravel.com, where founder Fleacé Weaver creates and leads customized tours for groups of African-American women to countries around the world, you’ll find salon listings from Amsterdam to Hong Kong to Dubai. Talk about hooking a sista up!

And just as our moms always told us to use a clean bathroom whenever we found one (since the next ones might be few and far-between), if you’re strolling down some foreign street and see a either a black/ethnic hair salon or barber shop, drop in and ask for a business card. You may not be planning to get your “hair did” in Madrid, but if your curling iron suddenly blows out or a downpour trashes your bob, you’ll be glad you know where to get your ‘do back on again. Think of it as “hair insurance.”

I’d love to hear YOUR tips—as well as about your overseas hair experiences and how you handle your tresses on the road. Feel free to share!

Maybe part of it has to do with arriving in my 40s (God willing, I’ll turn 41 in a few days) and the realization that life is short. And that I don’t want to look back as an old woman with a list of “woulda-coulda-shouldas.” Hopefully you don’t want to do that, either.

So take a look at this post on letting travel take you outside your “comfort zone,” whatever that is for you. Here’s wishing you a year full of great trips and adventures – I’m looking forward to sharing them with you. And Happy New Year!

Ahhh... freedom from hair issues! Here I am on a recent trip to Villefranche-sur-Mer in the south of France, in all my kinky-twist glory.

Here I am (far right) with a couple of girlfriends during a visit to the Vatican Museums in 2007. My hair was relaxed during this trip, but I still was lugging around multiple curling irons. NOT a way to travel light.

I can’t believe I’ve been writing this blog for nearly one year and am only NOW finally writing a post about hair. Yes, black women’s hair—sometimes our crowning glory, other times the thorn surrounding our crowns.

For sisters, hair is political. It’s sexual. And when you travel, it needs to be straight-up PRACTICAL—at least for me.

When I talk to black women about travel, the “hair thing” nearly always comes up—ESPECIALLY when we talk about traveling abroad. It’s as much of the discussion as, “Are there any black folks in (name-the-country)?” “Do they speak English?” And “Will my curling irons work over there?” Because unlike many of our sisters of other races, most black chicks don’t naturally have wash-and-go hair. No, after we wash it, we often need to blow-dry it. And sometimes straighten, then curl it. And PRAY we don’t get caught in a rainstorm or encounter high humidity or some other Mother Nature force that will have its way with our tresses. It’s WAY more drama than I feel like dealing with when I’m on the road.

I’ve been wearing my hair in two-strand twist extensions for the better part of five years. I’ve always had soft, super-fine hair that never had enough body, no matter how many layers my stylist cut into it or how much hairspray I used. So wanting to rock a more countercultural style to fit my “sistagirl-of-the-world” philosophy, I decided to ditch the straight look and do twists instead. I got all the volume I wanted, but more importantly, my hair ceased to dominate my day. I no longer worried about getting caught in misty rain (it actually needed the moisture!), or cared if the day’s humidity soared to 100 percent. And while in-between twist re-dos I’d sometimes have my stylist blow-dry and curl my natural hair to check out its growth, I could hardly wait to get those locks twisted again, if only for the mental freedom it afforded me. Which brings me to the point of this post.

Here I am this month at one of my favorite French bistros in Chicago, doing the highlighted blow-dried bob thing. It's cute, but WAY too much work -- and I'm tired of tuning into the morning weather report to determine whether it'll be a good "hair day" or not.

Little more than a week ago, I decided to do the blow-dry thing over the Christmas and New Year’s holiday, as I’d be away from my day job for nearly two weeks and would have time—for a change—for the straightening and curling required to keep my ‘do bouncing and behaving. (Not to mention time to visit the Egyptian-owned salon down the street from my downtown Chicago home.) But since I’m planning a brief trip to London and Paris early next year, I knew upfront I’d be all twisted up again before taking to the skies. No. 1, for the practicality of not lugging dual-voltage curling irons (can’t have those things frying when you plug ‘em in outside the States!), straightening cream, and all the other crap taking up space that could be occupied by another fabulous pair of shoes. And No. 2, I love the fact that until folks hear my American accent, I could be a twist-wearing sister from anywhere throughout the diaspora. Let ‘em guess I’m from London, or Paris, or somewhere in Africa. The natural style just makes me feel more at home in the world, even when I’m traveling in a country where black folks are few and far between.

I’ve often heard one friend repeat the adage she heard somewhere, “If black women could make peace with their hair, they could rule the world.” I don’t know if that’s the exact quote, but truer words were rarely spoken.

How much does YOUR hair and its care figure in when you travel—or does it? Do you find you’re received differently abroad when you’re rocking natural hair vs. blow-dried or straightened styles? Or is this much ado about nothing? Next, I’ll chat about where to find US if you’re overseas and need to handle your hair issues.

For any of us women—especially those who still consider themselves young or young-at-heart and long to experience the thrills and pleasures that travel and foreign cultures provide—the recently released Sony Pictures Classics film “An Education” is a must-see. (Here in the United States, it’s in relatively limited release, which is a shame because it’s truly one of the smartest, most thoughtful films to hit the big screen in ages.)

I recently saw it with one of my best girlfriends from university, someone who knew me before I became completely obsessed with all things international. But because my friend knows me so well, she knew I’d be one of the few people who would be clamoring to see it with her. (Another very good girlfriend, one whom I’ve traveled abroad with and spent countless hours sharing my dreams of seeing the world, demanded I call her as soon as I saw them film so we could dissect its deeper meaning in each of our lives.)

Here’s the gist: Set in suburban London in 1961, “An Education” is told from the perspective of Jenny (played by the luminous British actress Carey Mulligan), a bright and inquisitive 16-year-old in a private high school. Although she’s being pushed toward an Oxford education by her strict but well-meaning middle-class parents, she’s drawn to all things French. She loves the language, tossing off phrases en français, lounging in her bedroom while listening to sophisticated French chanteuse Juliette Gréco. And she longs to visit Paris in this drab and dreary post-World War II London era. Enter the mysterious and dashing David (played to perfection by actor Peter Saarsgard), a man in his mid-30s (!!) who offers her and her cello a ride home during a pounding rainstorm.

You can guess where this travels from here: David introduces her to a sophisticated world filled with hazy smoke from French Galoise cigarettes, his glamorous but shady friends, late-night supper clubs, and art auctions. Eventually, he get her parents’ permission to take her away for a weekend in Paris. Who of us—regardless of our age—wouldn’t dream of playing dress-up and strolling along the Seine River arm-in-arm with a handsome homme who wants to show us the finer cultural things in life? But it wouldn’t be a film if David didn’t turn out to have fatal flaws. I won’t give them or the ending away, but suffice it to say despite the fact he offers entrée into a glamorous second life, he’s hardly what he seems.

“An Education” resonates with me on so many levels. Although I’m now WAY older than Jenny was in the film, I still have that sense of wanderlust about the world. And although I’ve literally been around the world, there’s still so much I want to experience and to learn about foreign cultures and places and languages and music. Like Jenny, I’m passionate about everything French and try to incorporate as much of it into my daily and often stifling Midwestern life as much as possible. And although I’m slow to admit it, I’m often naïve when it comes to the underlying truth about men, especially when they seem to appear out of nowhere, almost as if they walked off a movie set, all mysterious and fascinating (and speak in some sexy foreign accent—you name which one).

I’m feeling way too introspective these days, having survived recent intense encounters with a couple of European men. While both were charismatic and worldly and well-traveled and smart, neither turned out to be what I first thought. That doesn’t necessarily make them bad people. But often we project onto others—friends, parents, children, lovers—what we crave and need them to be at that point in our lives. I’m reminded of the Maya Angelou quote my sister used to share: “When people show you who they are, believe them.” That would have been great advice for Jenny in “An Education”—and Lord knows I should have kept that in mind before getting involved with either of my two.

But part of learning—yes, of an education—is understanding when we’ve allowed ourselves to get caught up in the fantasy of what COULD be, not what is. And part of it is having the good sense and self-awareness to move on, even when our smarter selves wonder how we ended up in such ridiculous situations in the first place. Rather than beat ourselves up, we should acknowledge and yes, even APPRECIATE that even painful lessons can ultimately be good for us—IF we actually learn from them.

If you’re not intrigued yet, check out the film review written by my always-thoughtful former Chicago Sun-Times colleague, Pulitzer Prize-winning film critic Roger Ebert. What spoke to me were these lines from his October review: “So young women, let this movie offer useful advice. When a man seems too good to be true, he probably isn’t—good, or true. We all make mistakes when we’re growing up. Sometimes we learn from them. If we’re lucky, we can even learn during them. And you must certainly see Paris….”

How many of you UrbanTravelGirls does THIS resonate with? Even as I enter my fourth decade, I see I’ve still got PLENTY of learning to do, even as I pack my passport and venture off into places unknown.

A young, fruity red wine that usually retails for less than $20 a bottle, Beaujolais Nouveau is a Thanksgiving table favorite. Here, one from Laboure-Roi makes its debut at Cyrano's Bistrot & Wine Bar in Chicago's River North district.

As a freelance journalist who writes about both travel AND food, I frequently find these two passions of mine intersect deliciously. For me—someone who’d rather spend her trips abroad checking out local eateries than traipsing through museums—uncovering the culture behind cuisine is a beautiful thing. That’s one of MANY reasons why I so adore spending time in France. 

Travel with me to “TCW Travel Connection,”  the blog I write for Today’s Chicago Woman magazine. In my latest post, I wax poetic about a MOST incredible meal I had Nov. 19 at Cyrano’s Bistrot & Wine Bar, a colorful and authentic French spot in Chicago’s chic River North ‘hood. As was the case at several eateries and special events around town, Cyrano’s was celebrating the official 2009 release of Beaujolais Nouveau, a fruity, food- and wallet-friendly red wine from France. (French law mandates this wine can be released no earlier than the third Thursday in November.)

Sitting there at Cyrano’s with one of my best friends, a glass of fruity young Beaujolais in my hand, I felt myself mentally transported from Chi-town to somewhere near the Seine. (But if you want to experience the real thing firsthand, Travel Intelligence provides some good deals on luxury travel throughout France.)

If only….

But surprisingly, you can ALSO take a trip around much of the world by visiting Vegas. YES, Las Vegas. Even this most American of cities offers something for the global traveler in you.

I remember some years ago my sister—a brilliant young entrepreneur who has traveled to Europe several times, but never quite as eagerly as me—once made this remark (and I’m paraphrasing here): Why bother getting a passport and traveling overseas when you can visit Egypt, Italy, and France just by going to Las Vegas?

Of course, I was HORRIFIED, and hope she said it in jest. But the truth is, if money is tight and you can’t go abroad, Las Vegas offers some pretty cool glimpses into foreign cultures, if only by way of some of its star hotels and their restaurants and attractions.

So go with me here. Say you want to experience a bit of the magic found in my favorite city in the world, Paris. The Paris Las Vegas Hotel really is a gem, even for someone like me who’s visited the real thing countless times and loves the city as much as life itself. Not only is there an amazingly life-like replica of the Eiffel Tower facing “The Strip”—half the size of the original one in Paris—but you can soar 460 feet to the top via elevator, giving you an incredible view of the Vegas skyline.  A few years ago, I remember going with my mom to the 11^th floor Eiffel Tower Restaurant, not for a meal but for an amazing flute of champagne. I hadn’t taken a flight, but the elegant, classy feel made me forget I was in the States and transported me for a few minutes to La France.

And then there’s bella Italia, experienced by way of two truly neat hotels, The Bellagio and The Venetian Las Vegas. I stayed with my family at the Bellagio a few years ago, and not only were the rooms plush and comfy, but many of its restaurants and cafes—not to mention its gelateria—give hotel guests and visitors alike a literal taste of Italian cuisine. And while I haven’t stayed at The Venetian, I must admit I’m a sucker for its Venice replicas. I’ve been to the REAL Venice, Italy, three times—on journalist press trips and to visit a friend who lives in the city—and I must say, this hotel’s reproduction of the city’s Grand Canal and its gondola rides, complete with black-and-white-striped shirt-wearing gondoliers, trip me out every time I see them. And with 19 restaurants on the property—including the very authentic Canaletto, where I insisted my family dine with me on the faux “outdoor” terrazza—you really can pretend you’re somewhere in Italy.

Then there’s the Luxor Las Vegas, with its pyramid-shaped hotel complex and a large, looming Sphinx outside. Of course, you’re not in Egypt—and sadly, you won’t find any cuisine from this amazing country inside the hotel. But a visit to the luxurious Luxor spa some years ago is as close as this UrbanTravelGirl has gotten so far. Travel Intelligence provide a good range of luxury spa hotels for anyone wanting to give luxury spas a try. Still, it inspires me to get to the real Nile River in Africa sometime soon.

And isn’t that the point of any trip, to encourage you to take another?

This is a TravelingMom dedicated post.

Like my friend and fellow African-American expatriate Kelly Carter, I learned how to TRULY celebrate my “Inner Italian” during my days in Florence, Italy. Here, one of the city’s charming mini-buses rounds the corner of a picturesque street alongside the Arno River.

Here's the view from outside the window of my lovely rented flat in Florence, Italy. Vicolo del Canneto is a charming, narrow street just off the Ponte Vecchio ("Old Bridge" in Italian) and the Arno River.

She writes a periodic question-and-answer feature with “wannabe Italians or expatriate Italians –who try to ‘live Italian’ wherever they are.” I would certainly qualify, as I remain obsessed with the place, its food and wine, its beautiful people — the list goes on. So read all about my “Inner Italian” and you’ll understand why, as Sharon says, “Even if we don’t live in Italy, Italy lives inside of us.”

For me, there's truly NO PLACE like Paris. Its street life and energy is infectious -- and I got to travel there via the "big screen" earlier this week by catching "Paris" at a Chicago cinema.

I love this statue, which stands majestically in Place de la République, one of the most famous and busiest squares in Paris. This 19th century statue stands as a monument to the history of the French Republic.

I’m not usually a big moviegoer, but I am a sucker for a good foreign-language film. Yes, I’m a bit of a snob – I feel a bit smarter sitting and watching some artsy independent film rather than, say, “The Transformers” (not that there’s anything wrong with that if you liked it!). But since I don’t get overseas nearly as often as I’d like, I figure forking over $10 or $11 for a two-hour onscreen journey into another culture is a fair price to pay.

Knowing how passionate I am about overseas travel, friends and colleagues constantly quiz me: “So where’s your next foreign trip? I know you’re on your way somewhere.” For the first time in a long time, I’m staying put—mostly because I’m out of vacation time and am forcing myself to stick to a serious budget (for reasons I will share in this blog before too long, I hope). But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up globetrotting. Instead, I’m doing it right here in Chicago—no passport, visas or trips to O’Hare International Airport required—and am traveling by way of the big screen. 

Just this week, I checked out “Paris,” a lovely, wonderfully written film starring Juliette Binoche that was shot—of course—in Paris, my absolute FAVORITE city in the entire world and the one place I’d happily live if told I could never go anywhere else for the rest of my life.

For me, this was two hours of latte-sipping bliss, watching the film’s characters stroll the city’s picturesque streets; hang out in its cafés, stand in its apartments and gaze down at the beautifully laid out streets below. The film showed the interconnectedness of a wide range of Parisians (and Africans across the sea), making clear that sometimes “real life” is more dramatic than anything we can imagine. Of course, the film made me long desperately for Paris, to buy some extra American Airlines frequent-flyer miles to top off my account so I can fly there later this year.

But in lieu of dashing off to O’Hare to catch a flight after the film, I treated myself—as I often do when I go to see a French-themed film—to an early dinner at La Creperie, a cozy bistro-like hideaway just across the street from the Landmark Century Centre Cinema. A favorite spot of mine that’s been owned for nearly 40 years by a French-American couple, it gives me a way to extend my would-be French experience for another hour or two, complete with a great glass of vin blanc and an incredible savory crepe of chicken, goat cheese and tomatoes.

No matter where you live, you can travel the globe without going far from home. If you don’t live in a big metropolis with great artsy movie houses like the previously mentioned Landmark Century Centre Cinema or Facets Multimedia on Chicago’s North Side, or the Gene Siskel Film Center in downtown Chicago, you can still rent foreign films from Netflix or Blockbuster, literally bringing the world to your door. (But if you DO live in the Windy City, the Chicago International Film Festival plays on through Oct. 22, allowing moviegoers to feast on films from Argentina to Kazakhstan to Uruguay and tons of places in-between.)

And that’s a whole lot cheaper than an airline ticket somewhere around the world, even if it’s not quite the same (or as much fun) as being there.