Laurie's light travel travel tips

As I exited the Hell's Kitchen studio to the Bay City Rollers song , I crumpled. "I'd wanted to tell Trevor ... My brother is in Hawaii, I haven't seen him in four years (sniff sniff), and he said he'll (sniff sniff) just miss having Trevor make sense of the news every night." "Oh, I know," the blonde female staffer consoled. Why was I choking back tears? Somehow, missing my brother dovetailed with the stark realization that the moment was precious, that I had twice witnessed a rare star here in Trump's and now Let's-Hope-Not-Again-Trump's-America. His last show will be December 8. How to sum up lightning in a bottle? The obvious: He is humble, funny, dimpled, penetrating and engaging. The not-so-obvious: he needs time off to rest, connect with himself and family, to revisit or return to his roots ... and this is why he is so loved. Thirty-eight-year-old Trevor Noah was born when I was completing my undergraduate coursework at San Fran...

Where DO I start? It's December 31, 2017, and I'm lying in my beautiful studio here in Falls Church, Virginia watching the sun rise. I'm about to get started or rather get finishing a 5,000-word essay for my World Novel module at King's College London. I know what you're thinking, don't waste your writing hands on this blog. But how can I not? For me, 2017 was the kind of year that comes once in a lifetime. For the girl who once thought she'd never leave San Francisco , whose friends were running off backpacking in Switzerland and whose brother took enchanting photos from the Seine, it's remarkable that I've become such an adventurous spirit. When I head back to London, it'll mark my fifth trip across the Atlantic this quarter. And while I keep telling people I won't be back to America for the whole of 2018, I doubt that's true. Here are the highlights from 2017: JANUARY: I rejoined a coloring group at the library in Alice, Texa...

Here I am again at Terminal 5, and everyone around here thinks it's my home. It might as well be, as I am through here at least twice daily, rushing into the City of London . Today I forgot my student ID (so I could go into the Maughan Library at King's College and borrow a couple books I needed) so decided to think on my feet, or rather in my seat. "Excuse me, sir, but do you know London very well??" He, American accent, smiling: "It's been years since I was here." Me, smiling. "American?" He nodded. So I asked the chap next to me, "Where should I get off if I want to find a great bookstore that might have some classics?" "Piccadillly. W.H. Smith, across from the Meridian Hotel." I thanked him, and got off at Piccadilly (Circus), realizing I was about to disembark into an area that once held great romantic promise for me. A young man had scurried out of work and placed the backpack on my shoulders, wishing me adieu as I h...