You can't beat getting yourself acclimated to the potential of the fall rainsweep of England, Scotland and Wales than by settling in to an old fashioned New England nor'easter. Since Carol took charge of the accommodations for this trip, we were confirmed in an upscale Atlantic beach inn outside Boston, complete with gas fireplace and a picture window view of the ocean delivering the three day blow.Read More
Although I have a colonoscopy every, er, ten years as recommended (in case my doctor may be reading this) the sense of dread that decennial event conjures is a most familiar one. It matches exactly, for instance, the same dread I feel about going to a museum. In fact, the prep for a colonoscopy may actually be somewhat less dreadful, in that there is considerably more sitting done than you get to do at a typical museum.Read More
I like wine. I like to drink it; I don't need to understand why I like to drink it, but I've learned in the past few years that a lot of livelihoods depend on me wanting to know why. So when I travel to California's wine country, which has become an annual event to visit friends, I include a winery tour, not so much for the sake of those livelihoods, but for the same reason people who travel to New York and Paris visit MOMA and the Louvre: to advance their knowledge of art and culture sufficient to become annoying at parties.Read More
The giant Sequoia known as General Sherman that stands in California's Sequoia National Park is more than 2000 years old. It is 1000 years younger than the oldest known Sequoia. Interestingly, these forest giants require wildfires in order to germinate their seeds and grow new trees. In other words, these living trees have been around for at least 3000 years, and have survived through the life giving natural occurrence of forest fires. Today, thanks to the human encroachment of creeping suburbia, forest fires are suddenly now a scourge that have to be dealt with - to read between the lines of the lumber industry - by clearcutting, of course.Read More
Yesterday was the first anniversary of the first trip Carol and I took together. We went to France, which had been the scene of my first solo train trip the year before. Without really thinking it through (which is generally my method of thinking things through), this second France trip was a test of how well I stack up as a solo versus a companion traveler. In retrospect, it was probably more of a test of how well Carol stacked up as a companion to a solo traveler.Read More
When we're back home after a trip, Carol and I head off in different directions: she to the laundry room to wash even the clean clothes she's returned with ("bedbugs like to hitch a ride in suitcases.:"), and I to the couch to unpack from the trip a little differently.
I first try to get the measure of whether I behaved as a tourist or a traveler. Tourists rush about cramming as much activity as they can into their two-week vacation before rushing back home exhausted, complaining they need a vacation from their vacation. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was "off" about this last trip of ours, until I was able to reconstruct it in touristy terms. We went to Europe in the rush of its tourist season. Every place we went had some sort of a self-imposed deadline, as we were due in Heidelberg for a wedding in the middle of it. There was this drive to see as much as we could, yet not stray too far from a day's travel from Heidelberg. Time and place did open up after the wedding, but by then the rhythm and pace of the trip seemed to have been set. We rushed home even sooner than we had planned. Carol noted my blogs of the trip lacked the usual purposelessness, with none of the charmingly pointless observations of our two earlier trips together, as well as my previous solo journeys. Not to put too fine a point on it, the trip carried the same unease for me that perplexed Gregor Samsa when he awoke to find himself turned into an insect.Read More
After an experience like we had at Auschwitz, I was happy to be able to reflect, as we took the convenient and cheap Prague Airport Express bus the next morning, on our overall experiences behind the former Iron Curtain. Leaving the throngs of foreign tourists clogging the Charles Bridge behind for the more familiar throngs of homicidal maniacs in NYC brought a renewed sense of order to my world, following the previous day's reminder just how close we can bring ourselves as a people to the Gates of Hell.Read More
It was the bug's bad luck to have wandered up the gossamer curtain in our hotel room, just as the early morning sun had revealed its presence like a spotlight from a guard tower.
"Reid, please kill it, it might be a bedbug," Carol commanded, as her sleepy, still opening eyes caught sight of the invader immediately.
I was more attuned to the thought of crushing an insect in the city that was home to Kafka's most famous work, Metamorphosis, than I was contemplating Carol's summation of the bug's identity as yet another swipe at my choice of low-rent accommodations. "Sorry, Gregor," I said, as I knocked it to the floor and crushed it into extinction, "but I can't allow m'lady to awake from a troubled sleep, now can I?"Read More
The 11:10 to Prague
To a range of responses generally ranging from the bewildered to the bemused and on to the mildly annoyed, I manfully try to address the host countrymen in their native tongue. I greet them with a bonjour, guten tag or buon giorno. When it's time for the check, I ask for the l'addition s'il vous plait, die rechnung bitte or ill conto grazie. But all my attempts to address my Czech hosts in their native tongue were met with complete incomprehension. I think it's the Czech alphabet that's my problem.Read More
With a combination of broken German, English, sign language and baby talk, I was reassured by the Heidelberg ticket agent that our connection to Frankfurt would not split into two trains, and Carol and I could relax for the short, one-hour trip, and then on to our ultimate destination of Dresden.Read More
The problem with travel in Europe for me are the cities with "must see" sights that you haven't seen yet. For a mindless wanderer, a must see creates an obligation, a commitment to accomplish, an achievement requiring plans, knowledge of opening times, tickets, lines, security checks, amidst a sea of selfies, tour group flags - and for reasons that completely escape me - cone-licking tourists in mock poses with a fondness for miniaturizing the particular must see into something that appears to be hand held.Read More
Sometime early on this current trip, Carol and I began to think we might not be going to Hell after all. The combination of perfect timing, perfect opportunity and perfect luck that had befallen us in our previous travels had redemptively abandoned us so far. Where once we had been Roadrunner, we now seemed to be experiencing the aggregatable fates of Wile E. Coyote.Read More
It is estimated there are 850,000 bicycles in Amsterdam. About 750,000 nearly ran me over during our stay there. By the time we left, the shrill little bell rings from cyclists warning me they were about to lay me out flat had begun to sound like a chronic medical condition. The Dutch are polite enough about not running you over, but to a man and woman, they claim their bike paths prohibitively as their own. The city claims they fish anywhere from 12 -15,000 bikes out of the canals every year, and several times I fought an urge to add to that total - while the bikes were parked or otherwise.Read More
Except my readers, who will hear about nuisance and delays because it's an integral part of the meaning of travel for Carol and me. Carol handles nuisance and delay with the peace of a monk and the patience of a pointillist painter. My handling varies, but tends toward an Indiana Jones sense of imminent peril. Between the two of us, we have a travel approach that is a comforting blend of serenity and an urgent sense of gloom.Read More
I'd managed to book us into yet another disappointing accommodation for our last stop on our Wild West adventure. To top it off, I'd booked us in for two days. Two days in a place that when Carol looked up what there was to do there as we were driving towards it, reported to me, "There's no there there."Read More