In our ongoing series written by our interns visiting from Hong Kong, Tiantian explains what it feels like to be a California Girl. Culture-shock, delicious food and good times exploring with friends are all possible in the Golden State.
The first of our three-part series, our bubbly, foodie intern from Hong Kong describes her culinary adventures in San Francisco. Peruvian food, excellent seafood and a bit of a misunderstanding are highlights of her experience in one of America’s best food cities.
Hi, I am Eliza! I am from Hong Kong, and I interned at Wcities this summer. This summer in San Francisco has been unforgettable — I have to write something about it. Among all the memories I have made and the things I have seen, I love the restaurants in San Francisco the most.
If you ask a Chinese person what his or her impression of western food is, most of the answers you receive will probably be “steak,” “potato,” “fried food” or “nothing to eat.” But this is not true. I am going to tell you how San Francisco, a city with an international collection of food, proved this kind of stereotype wrong. For a foodie like me, eating in San Francisco has been amazing. I am going to introduce three restaurants that really impressed me. Continue reading
Photo Courtesy of Alba De Santiago
The worst hostel in the world is located in Edinburgh. In a shabby building on Prince’s Street, up a interminable flight of stairs is a dirty, drafty, smoky, flea infested place to rest your head for 11GBP per night. My friend Matt and I were traveling around the UK together and arrived at dawn from an overnight bus from London. The friendly tourist agent at the coach station directed us to a nearby hostel and we happily scampered off without asking questions. All hostels are the same, we figured, and by that point in the trip we were well-seasoned backpackers. Or so we thought. We stayed in room H and all the beds in this room had names that began with the letter H. I wish I was making this up, but the name of my bed was “Hell.” That should have been a sign. The bedding clearly had not been changed, the showers were drafty and had only lukewarm water. I got sick from spending too much time in the ashy, smoky, lounge area trying to use the coin operated computers to book a flight to Dublin. There were no lockers, no locks on the door. Twice we caught people fiddling with our bags. Nothing was stolen, but I got to be paranoid enough to sleep with my purse under my pillow. Edinburgh itself is a gorgeous city; we were simply dazzled by the castle, the streets of the old town and the natural surroundings. I would love to return to Scotland, but just not as a poor-as-dirt backpacker. Continue reading