Ahhhh... now THIS lovely breakfast-on-the-balcony (at the waterfront Hotel Welcome in lovely Villefranche-sur-Mer) says France to me! I need to think of scenes like these when I start stressing and obsessing about my upcoming move.

So I’m headed to France in a little over one week, and am alternately super-psyched, nervous, thrilled, stressed to the max, giddy with excitement, and worried. While part of me cannot WAIT to board that Iberia flight headed for Europe, my evil twin fears that I’ll spend all those trans-Atlantic hours obsessing about … STUFF.

Will my limited French-speaking skills make me feel (literally) like the “village idiot” when I get to Samois-sur-Seine, the picturesque place south of Paris where I’ll be living? Will I find enough freelance writing and consulting work to keep me challenged—but not so much that I end up overstretched and fall back into my workaholic ways? Will I finally meet a decent man who is what he claims to be—or will the language gap (and his sure-to-be-charming French ways and accent) make it that much tougher to figure it out?

When you decide to pull up stakes and move by yourself to the other side of the world, the tasks you need to handle before leaving home are LEGION. Everything from dealing with bank account transfers, long-stay French visa applications, endless doctor-dentist-optometrist visits, prescription orders, searching for international health insurance, laptop backups—not to mention the terribly stressful task of sorting, packing, and storing. What do I need to carry in the three suitcases I’ll take with me to France? What needs to be boxed up and shipped by the U.S. Post Office—and when? What needs to be banished to storage—and what do I need to get FROM storage and send overseas? It’s enough to make a chica lose her ever-lovin’ mind! (Usually, I just stop thinking about it and take a nap.)

I’ve even spent early Chicago mornings on Skype, calling black hairstylists at Parisian salons to find out if they can handle my hair while I’m in France. You UrbanTravelGirls KNOW there’s NO way a sister’s heading overseas without figuring out on the front end what she’s going to do with her ‘do!

If all this wasn’t enough, I needed to make an American Airlines “mileage run” out to San Francisco and back last Friday—all in one day. I know it sounds crazy, but I needed about 3,500 extra airline miles to maintain my elite status on American, which will be especially important next year when I’m traveling internationally—so I flew from Chicago O’Hare to San Fran Friday morning and less than two hours later jumped on a flight back home. I’m often rushing when I get to the airport and ALWAYS overpack, so I need the perks that come with being a “Gold” flyer—being able to check in at the always-shorter First and Business Class lines, to get on standby lists for earlier flights, to check bags for free. (Of course, it would be way easier to earn benefits without leaving the ground by racking up miles with something like an Aeroplan credit card that hooks you up with flight rewards, access to worldwide airline VIP lounges, and lets you sprint through priority check-in at airports. But that would be simple—and as you can tell, “simple” seems to be against my religion!)

I’m one of those strange people who actually ENJOYS moving—and I should, as I’ve lived all over the United States because of various newspaper reporting and corporate jobs. In the past, I’ve loved the process of researching where I’m going (it’s the journalist in me, I’m sure). Meeting new people. Starting a new routine. Discovering all the great things about my new surroundings. Maybe I’m getting older, but relocating is not nearly as easy-breezy as it used to feel. (Perhaps it just seemed way simpler because my corporate employers often were footing the bill for the entire move, complete with packing and unpacking all the stuff I transported back and forth across the country. Hmmm….)

But what I’m trying to remember—and take time for—during this hectic move-to-France process are PEOPLE. What I’m regretting is that I won’t have time to grab coffee, sit down over drinks, or relax over lunch or dinner with many of the folks that I’m truly going to miss during my time in Europe. Where I can, I’m trying to catch them at their offices—or even during workday coffee or smoking breaks—rather than miss seeing them at all. And with Christmas falling just before I leave—and many pals already heading home for the holidays—I’ll have to meet up with these travelers next year during my visits back home.

Before I moved to Florence, Italy, back in 2004, some of my good girlfriends threw a fabulous “Buon Viaggio” party for me at one’s downtown condo—and I got to say arrivederci to dozens of friends, colleagues and relatives at one time. But I didn’t want any such farewell for France (to me, it’s like I already had the big church wedding with the white gown … no sense in doing that twice!). So I’m hoping that when folks make their way to Paris or elsewhere in the French Republic, they’ll let me know in advance and we’ll get together on the other side of the pond instead.

Now THAT’S a rendezvous to get excited about!

I'm all smiles at this charming restaurant in Nice earlier this spring (I was in the south of France visiting a good friend in Villefranche-sur-Mer). I'm even MORE thrilled to be spending 2012 in this fabulous country!

I NEVER tire of seeing the amazing "La Tour Eiffel." This photo always reminds me how important it is to view life from different angles -- and that's EXACTLY what I plan to do in France next year.

Those of you who follow this blog know how much I love Europe—and that there’s a super-special place in my heart for France, where I’ve spent many incredible times over the past several years, from the north to the scenic south. FINALLY, I’m getting the chance to actually LIVE there … and I’ll be a mere 40-minute train ride from Paris, my favorite city anywhere in the world!!! The plan is to leave the States soon after Christmas and launch my “new life” in France—JUST in time to ring in the New Year!

Thanks to my very good friend Katherine (aka my “fairy godmother”)—and HER very good friend Hannah who lives near Samois-sur-Seine, a picturesque French village of about 2,000 people—I discovered this most magical place this fall. I’ve decided to take a “sabbatical” of sorts here, finally breaking away from the stress of super-long work hours and daily life here in the States. It is here in Samois-sur-Seine that French artists, writers and poets found sanctuary during the 19^th century—and I am convinced that this beautiful setting, with its serenity and charming scenery, will provide endless creative inspiration and offer the perfect “home base” for my writing.  

Ironically enough, I’d already PLANNED to move abroad next year—and after a great visit to Panama City, Panama, with my dad this past spring, I’d decided that Central American metropolis would be my next stop. I’d begun readying my downtown Chicago condo for rental and had jumped back into the frame of mind essential for one planning to ditch the comfort of America for the particular challenges of expat life. But when the opportunity arose to move to Samois, I decided to say OUI! without hesitation, as I’m confident that it’s ALL happening in divine order. While I don’t know exactly WHAT will happen next year in France, I can’t wait to find out. That’s what adventure is all about, isn’t it?

I’m a TOTAL big-city girl, one who loves and thrives off the energy found in the Chicagos, New Yorks and Londons of the world. But I truly can’t wait to settle into this lovely and peaceful village south of Paris, where my living quarters will look out on a lovely garden. I’m not being facetious when I say I believe that this move will be a literal life-saver. I’ve dealt with many stress-related health issues over the years—most stemming from my Type A, workaholic lifestyle here in the States. Having the chance to FINALLY relax, to write, to meditate—not to mention to shop in French fresh markets and boulangeries year-round, and actually having time to COOK what I pick up at these civilized places—will do wonders for my emotional and physical state. I’m convinced that once I get there, I’ll wonder why I didn’t pull up stakes and head back overseas years ago.

I plan to make regular pilgrimages to Shakespeare and Company, a legendary bookstore across from Notre Dame on Paris' Left Bank.

As you UrbanTravelGirl readers know, this “expat thing” isn’t entirely new to me, as I spent nearly one year living and working as a freelance writer in Florence, Italy, from 2004-05. But thankfully, I’ve learned from the time I spent there—both the good AND the bad—and expect to translate the knowledge I acquired into an even more fruitful experience next year in France. And thanks to technological advances, it’ll be WAY cheaper and easier for me to keep in touch with friends and family and clients back in the States (there was no such thing as Skype during my Italy days, when I routinely spent more than $300 a month on Internet costs alone!). Thanks to excellent low-cost airlines in Europe, I’ll be able to affordably see more of the Continent, even on short trips.

Because I’ll be living in an authentic small village, I’m VERY much looking forward to speaking French every day (although my tutor will tell you I’ve got a long way to go!), eventually becoming a fluent speaker of a language that both fascinates and humbles me with its complexity, beauty and grace. And I’ll be living in a lovely riverside setting that will inspire my creativity. While I’m there, I plan to write about African-American women and their nearly 100-year history in France, beginning with the French embrace of entertainer Josephine Baker back in the 1920s. I’m hoping to share the diverse and fascinating stories of those who call France home today.

This majestic statue, named after the French Republic, is one of my favorites in Paris. It stands in Place de la République, a square near many of the apartments I've rented during visits to the city.

I’m ALSO psyched because I’ll finally have time to blog more often—and I’m thrilled that you UrbanTravelGirls will be making the trek to France WITH me! I can’t wait to share musings on what it’s like being a single, 40-something African-American woman in France (and in Europe) during this time of intense global change. Since I’m a Travel and Food writer, I plan to hit the road when I can in search of great places and stories to share with readers back in North America. How are we Americans being perceived—and received—in countries around the globe? What do we as black women experience when we get out and about in this fascinating world of ours? I can’t wait to share it all with you in 2012 as I live out the mocha version of “Eat Pray Love,” “Under the Tuscan Sun,” or whatever other American-chick-moves-abroad-book-turned-flick you like best.

Here’s to a year of fabulous adventures for us all!

Ahhh... can't get back to the lovely French Riviera town of Villefranche-sur-Mer next week. Planning my return to this charming place has been a pleasant trip in itself!

Does this look serene, or WHAT? I'll have a view like this out the window of my Riviera Experience flat in Villefranche before I know it....

For some international travelers, NOTHING compares to the moment of arrival, when they touch down in a new place and are ready to check out the scene. Others love arriving back HOME, posting their photos on Facebook and Flickr, sharing their travel memories with family and friends. But for me, a pseudo-obsessive Type A, what I love most about travel is the PLANNING that goes into crafting a trip.

Take my journey to Europe early next week. A wonderfully thoughtful friend in the south of France owns several beautifully furnished Riviera Experience vacation rental apartments and had a vacancy in one that overlooks the breathtaking Bay of Villefranche. During an e-mail exchange, she invited me to come for a visit. I thought her offer was far too generous and started to decline, but finally graciously accepted, as I’d LOVE to see her and return to one of the most gorgeous places on earth. And for me, a planner to my heart, that’s where the fun begins!

Because I’ve visited to the Côte d’Azur town of Villefranche-sur-Mer twice before—including a solo trip that rang in my 40^th birthday—I know how to get there from the nearby Nice airport. I know my way around Vieux Nice (Old Nice) and how to get to glitzy, jet-set Monaco. But there’s still so much to do and see on the French Riviera and beyond. My head is nearly swimming with the possibilities. Hang out inside the adorable studio apartment or in its private garden and write? Grab my shades and camera and stroll nearby towns? Or merely open the seaside window and nap to my heart’s content?

But since I’m going to be this close to Italy—less than an hour from the border, in fact—could I dare not set foot in bella Italia? And where to go? I STILL have yet to make it to Emilia-Romagna, the region many Italians admit has the best cuisine in the country. Should I make a stop in Tuscany, to stop in Florence where I lived for too short a time? Or head way south to Rome, the only city that rivals Paris for my undying affection, and visit my many friends there? Eventually, Rome won out, although I’ll only be there for three short days—not nearly enough time to spend leisurely catching up with folks. But three days are better than none.

For me, NO trip to Rome is complete without a swing past the Colosseum. No matter how often I see it, I never cease being amazed.

As I’ve been planning this south of France-to-Rome getaway for the past several weeks, many questions have crossed my mind: Head to Paris—my favorite city in the world—for a few days after leaving Villefranche? Take an overnight train and take in the romance of the rails on my way to Rome? Since I can’t get directly to Rome from Villefranche on the train, hit the road in a France rental car and pick up that overnight train in Dijon? Decisions, decisions!! (I finally decided to just take an hour flight to Rome to conserve my precious few vacation days… but you can bet I’ll be taking that overnight Artesia train on my next trip from France to Italy!)

I’d love to hear from you UrbanTravelGirls: What’s the best part of a holiday for you—the planning, the actual vacationing or the reminiscing? Perhaps I’ll become a convert!

Ciao,

I hope to spark conversation among African-American women who love (or WANT) to travel abroad, who are never happier than when we’re in new and challenging foreign environments. I want to hear your comments about my trips – and I want to hear about yours. Wondering whether it’s cool to travel solo to Paris, or how you’d be received as a black woman in Rome?  Put it out here and we UrbanTravelGirls will jump in and give you the scoop. Looking for some fab, locals-only restaurants and boutiques in Florence, Barcelona or Buenos Aires? I’ll dish about it and hope other chicas visiting here will also share.

So what are you waiting for? Get out there, hit the road, discover your own global bliss — and let’s chat about it!

U.S. First Lady Michelle Obama and adorable 9-year-old Sasha meet Spanish King Juan Carlos on the island of Mallorca, wrapping up their visit to southern Spain.

Young Sasha's got the European double-kiss routine down pat as she greets Spain's Queen Sofia.

Is Michelle Obama a classy First Lady or WHAT? Love the one-shouldered look.

I don’t know about you, but it’s absolutely thrilled me to see First Lady Michelle Obama taking 9-year-old Sasha on a mom-and-daughter holiday–and to SPAIN, no less! I don’t have kids, nieces or nephews, but if I did, I’d be booking us on some overseas trip as soon as they were old enough to appreciate it. And I’d be sitting them down right now  to watch video of adorable Sasha meeting the king and queen of Spain.  How it does my heart proud to see this darling young brown-skinned girl looking confident alongside her mom, realizing she’s a princess in her OWN right. Nothing like self-assurance, even when it comes in the package of a preciously dressed pre-teen.

I was super-proud and psyched last year when the President and Michelle took Sasha and Malia with them to Paris and London. I wrote then about how important it is for youngsters—and especially African-American ones, who don’t always see themselves portrayed positively in the American media—to travel abroad and experience life through a different lens. Just think of all the young black kids out there who see Sasha strolling the streets of Spain, visiting its treasures, meeting its royalty, witnessing the crowds of Spaniards eagerly seeking a glimpse of her and her glamorous First Lady mom. SURELY that’s got to have an effect on their individual and collective psyches, even if they don’t realize it now.  

I’ve loved reading about the Obama ladies’ trip since they landed in Marbella, on Spain’s sun-drenched Costa del Sol, earlier this week. They toured an historic cathedral in the southern Spanish city of Granada; took in a flamenco performance in the region where this legendary dance was born; toured the Moor-built Alhambra at night. The traveling half of the First Family and their friends stayed at Marbella’s Hotel Villa Padierna, a five-star Ritz-Carlton resort on the Mediterranean Sea. And while this was hardly budget travel, folks tend to forget that the Obamas are wealthy folks, thanks largely to royalties President Barack has generated from his best-selling books.

I’m not even going to start on the haters screaming that the Obamas’ trip abroad is costing U.S. taxpayers untold dollars, and that Michelle is somehow a “modern-day Marie Antoinette” for daring to travel abroad on a luxury vacation while America’s in a recession. As has been made clear, the Obama ladies and friends paid for their own stay in Spain, although granted, the Secret Service had to travel with them and they flew aboard Air Force Two. As far as I’m concerned, the complainers SHOULD be glad we’ve got a globally minded First Family that actually wants to see and positively engage with the world. 

And for THAT, all of us Americans ought to be proud.

Talk about taking a guide book to another level. Chicago author Kiratiana Freelon hooks up travelers who want to explore all facets of "Black Paris" during visits to the City of Light.

As you UrbanTravelGirl readers know, Paris is my favorite place on the planet. Someone this week asked me why I love it so, and I didn’t have to think long before responding, “The diversity.” Sure, Paris is THE quintessential French city, but a huge part of what makes it so special for me, an African-American woman, is the presence of black folks from throughout the Diaspora. You’ll meet black folks from African former French colonies including Togo, Senegal, Mali, and Côte d’Ivoire. From French Caribbean “overseas regions” such as Martinique and Guadeloupe. And black American expatriates from all over the States.

And whereas most “mainstream” travel guidebooks gloss over their presence (if they mention them at all), Chicago author Kiratiana Freelon jumps all over it in her new book, Kiratiana’s Travel Guide to Black Paris: Get Lost and Get Found (Eunique Press, $19.95). An African-American Harvard grad who’s visited more than 25 countries in her young life and spent time living in Paris, she uncovers GREAT finds all over Paris (and beyond, as well).

Check out the post I wrote for “TCW Travel Connection” (http://bit.ly/a2×0hY) on Freelon’s fabulous new book. Even diehard Paris lovers will discover LOADS they didn’t know and will eagerly be planning their next trip to the City of Light. Be sure to pick it up!

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.

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.

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.

My mom Gloria stands just outside the Rome Baptist Church during our April 2007 trip to the Eternal City for our friend Monica's wedding.

A view from just above the entrance to the Rome Baptist Church, which stands in the charming Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina, just off one of the poshest shopping streets in town.

Here's Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the gorgeous French Riviera city of Nice. This multiethnic congregation welcomes English-speaking worshippers from all over the world.

I don’t know about you, but I’m often more psyched about going to church on the road than hitting a bunch of must-see museums and boutiques. Although mornings and I have never been friends, when I’m overseas, I make a point of finding an English-speaking service, whether I need to hop on a subway or bus or use my own two feet to get there. I enjoy the religious aspect of worship but for me, it’s also about experiencing local culture in one of its most authentic and expressive ways.

A friend from work recently left on her first trip to Italy, and besides sharing the names of fabulous trattorie, ristoranti and shops, I suggested she stop into St. James Church, which I used to attend during my days of living in Florence. Introduced to St. James by artist friends Louise LeBourgeois and Steven Carrelli from my very own Grace Episcopal Church in downtown Chicago, I found this congregation a beacon of warmth, welcome and friendship. And while its Episcopal worship style is much more “high church” than at Mt. Calvary Baptist which I attended as a kid on the South Side of Chicago, it’s full of international people who speak English – no small thing when you’ve spent the rest of your week struggling through broken Italian! (I still get misty-eyed when I get its weekly e-mails and way jealous when I read about its “day trips” to Assisi and other historic towns.)

One reason I fell so hard for St. James was the soulful singing of the world-traveling Florence Gospel Choir, led by Virginia native Nehemiah Brown. Forget about that old American adage that “11 o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week.” Nehemiah had these Italians, Germans, Brazilians, and a few African-Americans singing gospel classics so passionately they might as well have been in a church in Philadelphia or L.A. (Check out one of their videos here.) And on Sundays when the choir sang, I was transported back to the South Side, where my dad Farnell was a minister of music at Covenant and Baptist churches for nearly 40 years.

Even if we don’t go regularly now, many – if not MOST – of us black folks grew up going to somebody’s church. Besides, even if you’re not super-religious, there’s something special and sacred about being in a house of worship – ANYBODY’S house of worship – even if it’s not a faith tradition you follow. 

It’s all about the idea of FELLOWSHIP, the bringing of people together. That’s why — even if you’re shy or traveling alone — it’s so neat to stop by the “coffee hour” or whatever gathering is held AFTER the service. It’s there you’ll meet church members, many of whom are expats living in their chosen countries and eager to chat about their overseas experiences. And you’ll meet fascinating fellow travelers who, like you, have found sanctuary in this same holy place.

My mom Gloria, a Sunday School teacher for more years that she’d probably want me sharing on this blog, and I love to do this. When in Rome for an Italian friend’s wedding last spring, we made our way to the Rome Baptist Church (no joke!) in a lovely small piazza just off one of the chicest shopping streets in the Eternal City. We sat in on a Sunday School class taught by a wonderful African teacher, met fellow students from South Africa, Nigeria and the States, and enjoyed a morning worship service in the same city where St. Paul was imprisoned, wrote letters that later became books of the Christian New Testament, and likely was martyred.

We did the same thing last fall before leaving Barcelona on a Mediterranean cruise. Taking a cab up this Spanish port city’s winding hills, we found ourselves at the small yet super-friendly St. George’s Church, an Anglican/Episcopal congregation filled with members from across the globe. Not only was this a church I would have been HAPPY to call home if I lived in Barcelona, but these were smart, well-traveled folks who were just as down to earth as any we’d ever met. (And coming on the heels of Barack Obama’s election as president of the United States, we found ourselves embraced by folks who just wanted to talk about the miracle America had just pulled off!) The service itself was spirited but deeply moving, bringing tears to our eyes as we realized the oneness of worshippers, no matter where they live or where their churches may stand.

Now that I think of it, I’ve checked out Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the French Riviera town of Nice. I’ve attended worship at London’s famed Westminster Abbey, where Princess Diana’s seen-all-over-the-world funeral was held. And any time I’m in Paris on a Sunday, I stroll past the super-posh Four Seasons Hotel George V to the American Cathedral in Paris, where I dream of worshipping when I’m someday living in the City of Light.

But in the midst of all the sightseeing in foreign lands, it thrills me to know that God is the same all over the world, that praises are going up in different languages and dialects and still reach heaven the same way.

And that, in the words of my former Baptist pastor, is something to shout about!