When my father was posted to Moscow my mother joined him during the summers (her, not being crazy and all). When I went to visit I noticed that her Moscow residence library consisted entirely of post-Cold War Russian based spy thrillers, which made every jaunt a literary pilgrimage. It was really fascinating.

Visiting Bath was something of a Jane Austen pilgrimage for me. Actually, half of Britain was an, "I've read about this and now I'm HERE!" experience for me, but that was the strongest association.

When I was going to Paris I looked up the Rue de la Cerisaye (from the Lymond Chronicles) on the map, but we didn't go there.

Supposedly, the house where Edgar Allan Poe was born is on a famous drug corner.(I say it that way cause I haven't been there myself, but know from The Wire "Young man, do you know where the Poe house is?"

"Yo, man, look around!"

I was going to say I had nothing first-hand to contribute, but I have driven past the Safeway where Mary Ann Singleton tried to pick up Mouse. Being that Phoenix has no literary character, and I haven't traveled much, I'm counting it.

I visited Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner. My friend was working on her PhD at Ole Miss and we went to the house when I visited her. It was pretty cool. And a tad odd since his house now overlooks the baseball diamond at Ole Miss.

Supposedly, the house where Edgar Allan Poe was born is on a famous drug corner.(I say it that way cause I haven't been there myself, but know from The Wire "Young man, do you know where the Poe house is?"

Actually it's not where he was born but he spent some formative years there (it's where he lived with his cousin who became his child bride). But, yes, it's in a pretty sketchy part of town.

Poe fanciers and cornerboys, huh? Well, considering his life, it's still sort of fitting.

When I was a little little kid, my mother drove us into Boston with a hardcover of Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey in hand, and we went to the Public Gardens, and found iron railings on the houses just like in the illustrations of the story. (The story is about a pair of ducks that nest on the river, and have to cross Storrow Drive to get to the duck pond in the Public Gardens, and most of the illos are true to life even now.)

I also timed my reading of The Constant Gardner to coincide with my trip to Kenya. If I recall, we were staying reasonably close to the embassy residence area described within. It's a nice way to travel, novel in hand. I'll do it again, given the smallest opportunity.

Because, probably, I can be a total girl, I would love to visit Bronte country. I think the atmosphere of the moors as much as that weird, tight-knit little family, informed a lot of their writing.

I would also love to see Orchard House (is that it?), Louisa May Alcott's childhood home.

I've been to the Whitehorse Tavern, though. And had a drink for Dylan Thomas.