Standing in front of Rome's famed Trevi Fountain is my brother-in-law Dave and fellow former Italian expat friend and now-best-selling New York Times author Kelly E. Carter. This February 2005 photo is from my living-in-Italy days, during Dave's and my sister Monetta's visit.

There’s nothing like reliving old memories—especially those that have shaped you into the person you are today. And last week, thanks to a fabulous Chicago-based Travel radio show, I got the chance to reminisce about my sistagirl-living-abroad-in-Italy experience from five years ago!

The hour-long show, which airs from 11 a.m.-noon U.S. Central time on Fridays, is called The Traveling Eye, and its programming is especially designed to appeal to upscale African-American consumers and travelers. It’s hosted by two dynamic sisters: my Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., soror and Chicago radio legend Bonnie DeShong and travel specialist and Advantage International President and Founder Ja’Vonne Harley. Listen to THEIR show and before it’s over, you’ll want to be online or on the phone booking some fabulous getaway. And some advertisers don’t believe that black folks travel—and travel in style? Along with WHUR-FM in Washington, D.C., Bonnie and Ja’Vonne are leading a tour of nearly 100 folks to Egypt and Dubai in February—and this nearly two-week trip is SOLD OUT!

During last week’s show, Bonnie and fill-in host Gene Harley asked me and a super-bad American expat sister named Tiffany Zunker who’s lived abroad for half her life to share thoughts on why we first got interested in living abroad. (In my case, listening to tales from my world-traveling aunt Sophenia and visiting my friend Javan on a U.S. Army base in Germany during grad school.) What I felt when I first stepped off the plane in Florence, Italy, as a new resident and not just a tourist. (Totally excited and ready for the adventure!) Whether I ever felt lonely. (Now that’s hard to do in Italy unless you turn yourself into a recluse, as family-oriented Italians will embrace you and often treat you like an extended member of the family!)

How I dealt with my hair (got my two-strand twists hooked up regularly in Florence by a sweet Nigerian stylist in the back of her brother’s barber shop) and (far more of it in Florence than in the States, that’s for sure!). As I joked, sisters often head to Italy believing the adage that “Italian men LOVE them some black women!” The reality is that Italian men adore women period—which is a way-welcoming thing to black women, who don’t always feel celebrated in American culture.

Want to hear the whole show? Click here! (Skip the lead-in newscast and start listening at about 3:15.)

Dishing about my fabulous adventure made me homesick for Italy, and longing for another live-abroad experience. You know me—have passport, will travel!

If you want to catch TODAY’s “Traveling Eye,” listen to it live on Fridays from 11 a.m.-noon U.S. Central time on the WVON/1690 AM The Talk of Chicago” website and click the flashing “Listen Live” icon.

But what interested me most is her last chapter: “It’s the Same Story Around the World.” Here, she writes how “Traveling the world—and meeting men from other countries and cultures—can offer American black women a new view of themselves as desirable.” She shares the stories of sisters who’ve lived in Europe, who talk about the very different dynamics of interracial relationships on that continent versus in the States.

Many mention feeling attractive, desired, and appreciated FOR their blackness, rather than in spite of it. Some talk about feeling “freer” to be themselves, both personally and in relationships, when they are abroad. And, as Black Women in Europe blog and social network founder Adrianne George reports: “I want black women to know that, in the wider world, we are perceived as smart, hardworking and talented. In short, the world thinks you’re awesome.”

Imagine that!

Folan also writes about BlackGirlTravel.com, a tour company started by Southern California-based Fleacé Weaver that takes large groups of African-American women on trips to the French Riviera, Spain, Dubai, and beyond. Its signature tour is “Bella Italia,” which has for the past four years has taken “Bellas” (the female travelers) around Italy, where the ladies receive much love. (Which of us globetrotters hasn’t heard the line that Italian men LOVE black women?)

Says Weaver in Folan’s book: “Italian men are very affectionate, very aggressive. They love women of all nationalities and for black American women, it can be overwhelming. Black women aren’t used to the level of attention they get from the men in Italy. In a way, that’s kind of sad. But it’s also why the ladies have such a good time. It’s fun when 50 or so black American women descend on a popular club in Rome and find themselves to be quite literally the ‘bellas’ of the evening.”

I’ve written in this blog about a romantic encounter with a Frenchman in the South of France, being asked out by a young Italian after dining at his restaurant, and generally being treated as a fascinating creature by men of various backgrounds when traveling solo around the world. And of course, there are other tales. The point is, many times African-American women feel more love from men abroad than we get here at home. Perhaps guys in other countries and cultures see us as exotic and different; perhaps they’ve seen Hollywood films, heard rap songs and buy into stereotypes of black women as hypersexed and easy. Who knows? But many genuinely find us attractive—natural hair, mocha skin, and all. And what woman doesn’t want to feel adored and appreciated for who she is?

But at the end of the day, as Folan writes (and we all know), “regardless of race or nationality, all men are men.” Lord knows they ALL come with baggage and hang-ups and issues, as do we. Still, there’s something to be said for keeping our minds open when on the road. Folan wraps up her global chapter this way: “… For what we spend in shoes, we could have an experience that completely changes the way we see ourselves and what we know about the wide world. So start putting your shoe money aside, ladies, and go, woman, go!”

I’d love to hear about YOUR experiences. Do you find that when you travel abroad, you’re approached by men of different ethnic backgrounds? Are you more open to dating across cultures when you’re on the road than you are at home? And have your experiences with men of other races and national backgrounds shaped your perceptions about black women’s beauty and desirability? Do share!

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!

As the documentary showed, this was where black American musicians, artists and writers often settled when they arrived in the City of Light between the First and Second World Wars. There were nightclubs owned and run by black folks – even strong African-American women like Ada “Bricktop” Smith, whose club was the place to be. It was here that jazz greats like New Orleans native Sidney Bechet earned their fame; where entertainers like the beloved Josephine Baker (whose do-it-your-own-way life story never ceases to amaze and inspire me) performed and hung out. This was no small thing, as these black Americans found a personal and creative freedom they were denied back “home” in the United States. The French embraced them, and African-Americans in Paris embraced them right back. Surely it wasn’t utopia, but compared with an often violent and discriminatory Jim Crow existence in the States, it probably felt like heaven on earth.

I first learned about some of Montmartre’s place in African-American history by taking one of Ricki Stevenson’s Black Paris Tours many years ago. This combination walking-bus-Metro tour not only introduced us to haunts frequented by Baker and writers like James Baldwin and Richard Wright, but gave us the historical context needed to understand just what was so special about this “Harlem Renaissance” on the other side of the Atlantic. For the first time in their lives, these black artists had the freedom and the right to JUST BE.

Even if you’re not a music or jazz enthusiast, you’d find “Harlem in Montmartre” fascinating TV, complete with commentary from both American and French historians and musicologists. (Not sure when PBS will make the video available, but click here to at least view a video excerpt.) Talk about bringing history to life. I’ll bet it makes you want to book an airline ticket to Paris so you can check out this fascinating place for yourself!

And if you DO happen to be a jazz fan, here are a few spots (not located in Montmartre, but throughout Paris) you might want to try:

• Caveau de la Huchette. Located in the 5th arrondisement on the Left Bank, you’ll listen to jazz in a centuries-old underground cave. Great music, great scene.
• Au Duc des Lombards. Housed on a street not far from the Pompidou Centre that’s home to a string of quality jazz joints, the Duc is one of the most popular and best-known. (Note: this Web site’s all in French.)
• Jazz Club Etoile. This spot, located in the Le Meridien Etoile hotel in the 17th arrondisement, used to be known as the "Lionel Hampton Jazz Club." But check it out, as it often hosts top names across genres including soul, blues, gospel and "world music."
• Anywhere along rue des Lombards. As I mentioned, there’s a host of jazz venues on this street in the very centrally located 1st arrondisement (although I can’t remember all the club names). Even if you don’t have pre-arranged reservations, stroll this street, see who’s playing at the different clubs, and duck inside for an unforgettable cultural experience.

Take American Black Chick in London. We met “virtually” through her fabulous blog of the same name, as she’s finishing up her M.A. dissertation in London this summer and looking for work that will extend her excellent European adventure. Not only do I love her fresh perspective on being a young African-American sister overseas, but admire her fearless spirit, especially when it comes to taking on the world on her own terms.

American Black Chick just got back from a two-week jaunt to Italy, Switzerland and Liechtenstein and dished a bit about the trip. Read about her “random musings,” and her answers to my questions about the “black chick” experience in these three very different countries.

During our trip to Florence, Italy, my friends Carol (far left), Karen (far right) and I embraced the Italian way of life. And as you see here, we found ourselves embraced right back by the super-friendly waiter at Grillo Parlante, a small, locals-only restaurant.

Visiting a country like France, Italy or Spain? Stop into a local market, like the bustling Mercat de la Boquería in Barcelona -- but ask FIRST before handling the merchandise. In many cultures, touching the produce -- or the designer bags and shoes before first asking permission -- is seen as rude (and in the case of food, simply unsanitary).

Knowing the social mores of a foreign country or city -- especially when it comes to dining, shopping and socializing -- can greatly impact the experiences you have when traveling abroad. Here I am, finishing lunch at the famed Ladurée tea salon in Paris.

At the recent Travel Blog Exchange conference in Chicago, a fellow blogger and I found ourselves discussing why African-American women—even those with the financial means and interest in traveling abroad—don’t do it more often. I often think about this, as I always feel it would be GREAT to see more sisters when I’m running around Italy or Spain either in a group or solo.

For many of us, it’s fear of the unknown. We don’t speak the language; we don’t know anyone in the country we’d like to visit. But in countless conversations I’ve had with African-American women over the years, it comes down to wondering how we’ll be perceived as black people. Even without realizing it, being black in America—whether dirt-poor, comfortably affluent like “The Cosby Show” Huxtables, or “movin’ on up” like the Jeffersons—means wearing the subconscious burden of potential discrimination on our backs like the latest designer dress.

Any time a salesclerk at a store is slow to help us, we often assume it’s because we’re black. Get a bad table in a restaurant? The hostess must be a bigot. Living in America, we spend more time than we’d like to admit wonder when the legacy of centuries of racism will smack us in the face. So there’s little wonder that when we DO leave the United States those of us who can afford to travel would rather jet off to the Caribbean, where islands teem with brown-skinned folks just like us, rather than potentially inviting discrimination (and in languages we don’t understand, no less) by flying off to Europe or South America or Australia.

But after countless trips abroad, I’m convinced that one reason we sisters sometimes feel we’ve been slighted overseas is because we don’t understand “how to be” (I’m borrowing this phrase from the book penned by author and Ebony Magazine Creative Director Harriette Cole) or understand how other folks ARE.

I think about a trip to Paris some years ago with two close girlfriends, when we often found ourselves stared at by Parisians in bistros and on trains. We laughed and talked loudly everywhere we went; after a meal, we’d whip out our compacts and lipstick and powder at the table. I figured those Parisians just couldn’t keep their eyes off these three beautiful black sisters out on the town. I later found out—probably years after the fact—that French women rarely reapply cosmetics in public. Instead, they slip out to the toilette to prettify themselves. And in a country where privacy is prized, conversations—even animated ones—are kept to a much lower decibel so that an entire room isn’t privy to a stranger’s every word.

That’s why I love Ricki Stevenson of “Black Paris Tours.” Besides showing folks on her half- or full-day tours where Josephine Baker, James Baldwin, and Richard Wright used to live, write and perform, she ALWAYS gives a little social primer first. She advises her guests to say, “Bonjour, madame” or “Bonjour, monsieur” upon entering a store or restaurant, and to always say “Au revoir” upon leaving. It seems like a small thing, but it’s HUGE to French people who pride themselves on their civil society. And like it or not, we do represent “our people” and our country when we travel abroad, so why not become positive ambassadors while we’re there?

But back to the confab between my fellow Travel Blog Exchange seatmate and me. She told me about some black friends who’d recently visited Paris and came home feeling they’d been ignored and treated rudely by the French. But she and I wondered: Did they do the small things, acknowledging the salesclerks when entering and leaving a store? Did they walk right into boutiques or up to a food market and start touching the merchandise without first asking permission? (I know—it sounds foreign to us in the States, but that’s what EVERYONE does in countries like Italy and France as common courtesy.) Did they at least TRY to speak a few words of French before launching into questions in English? (But Lord knows it’s not just us black folks guilty of doing that overseas!) And did they realize that just because waiters don’t hover over your table or return frequently as they often do in the States, they’re not being rude but giving you unhurried space in which to slowly savor your meal?

Just as we don’t like it when foreign tourists stand too close to us on American buses and streets, we should do a mental role-reversal when we travel to OTHER folks’ lands and try to find out what’s appropriate and what’s not before we board that plane overseas. Now if we TRULY feel we’ve been discriminated against, then we should by all means speak up and complain. But let’s not automatically assume that every perceived slight has a racial tinge to it. A little understanding can go a long way to shrinking global differences—and to ensuring that your trip abroad is a fabulous one!

I’d love to hear from you: Have you ever unwittingly found yourself violating some “social code” overseas? How did you find out that your behavior was outside the norm—and were you able to change it during that trip? We’ve all been there, so please share!