Teacher of a Lifetime, An Open Letter

Dear Ms. Cushing,

My life changed forever the day I walked in to your 5th grade class at Boeblingen Elementary & Junior High School in suburban Stuttgart in 19-, well, never mind; it's been a while so we can both simply leave it at that. Like most other 10-year olds my reading material consisted mostly of comic books. The story had to have pictures for me to tap in to the narrative and engage in the action or I simply couldn't be bothered. Then I joined your class that Fall.

At first glance you were a story all to yourself, an embodiment of the California sun culture if ever there was one: shoulder length straw shaded blond hair, slightly frizzed but styled, sharp, piercing green eyes, an angled jaw line that bespoke both beauty and zero tolerance and a voice right out of the San Fernando Valley. All this and I was never sure you were actually from California but the yellow Volkswagen Beetle you drove only completed the package for me. You were quite simply visually arresting, your demeanor brooked no mischief and your personality commanded attention. I was hooked, turning in probably the best work of my elementary school life. Then you played your trump card.

Every day after lunch you read one chapter from a book geared towards young readers, many of them Newbery Award winners and included titles I still remember today, including "Island of the Blue Dolphins" by Scott O'Dell. You created a means to educate while settling excited children fresh from recess in one masterstroke. We didn't need pictures or have to read for ourselves; your vocal inflections and pacing in addition to the choice of material allowed us to drift away to far off lands simply by putting our heads down and listening. "Dolphins," though, was a poor second to the signature series you began the Fall term with, "The Chronicles of Prydain" fantasy series by Lloyd Alexander.

Through the five books of the series based on Welsh legends you held an entire classroom mesmerized, enchanted and enthralled, taking us to a different world and a different culture with each page. You taught us the art of the cliff-hanger at the end of each chapter despite bleating pleas to continue the story. The most astounding thing for me was your creation of completely different voices for each character. Just in changing your voice we knew who was center stage without the writer's tool of "Taran said," or "said Fflewddur." A substitute teacher filled in one day but had nothing in the way of your touch with a good story. We made you reread that chapter the very next day.

We were perhaps too young to see ourselves in Taran's maturation through the series - I remember us all heaving a collective "Ewww" when Taran announced his desire to marry Princess Eilonwy in "Taran Wanderer," the 4th book. I even saw Prince Ellidyr more as Taran's misunderstood best friend than arch rival in "The Black Cauldron," my favorite of the series. We were both exasperated and infatuated with Gurgi and instantly enamored of the all powerful father-figure in Lord Gwydion. We knew we all wanted to be Taran's friend, a character to which Harry Potter owes much, or at least be like him through his incredible adventures.

Because of you. I found a recent edition of the series with the original art work after years of repeatedly collecting paperbacks to read again and again from start to finish. I hear their voices, your voice, in my head with each reading, the "Tut tut," of old Dallben or the "MY BODY AND BONES," bellow of King Smoit. My love of reading was cemented in your classroom and remains with me to this day, no pictures required.

Lauren Cushing, I have tried over the years to find you to let you know the strength of your influence upon me over these many years. If no other student that year or since has ever tried to reach out and acknowledge who you are and what you meant I wanted to be at least one who tried. Teacher of the Year? You are my Teacher of a Lifetime. Wherever you are I remember, love and thank you.

Gotta go.

What Is a True Vacation?

Happy 4th of July!

Now, What, exactly, is a vacation? To those companies who offer paid time off, leave, whatever it's called it is time away from work with full pay. How that time is used is entirely up the employee but what, exactly, is a "vacation?" Is it working on the house, planting the spring garden, going to see Grandma, catching up on Netflix or just laying on the beach for a few days?


For most of my adult life I've rarely gotten past the three-week vacation mark in terms of earned time off. I've had to squeeze in trips to visit the family over the holidays as well as weekenders to New Orleans and even London, England just to make it through the year. In each of those with so little time on the ground available to really relax and enjoy both people and place I would always come home as rushed as if it were just another day at the office. Anything in the way of big trips was saved for the end of the year when there were plenty of national holidays to tack on and stretch precious vacation time like breadcrumbs to meatloaf.


When I made it to four weeks I truly had no idea how I would use it all. The income doesn't always match the wish list of places to go and things to see and do, does it? I was actually reluctant to take time off if the only thing I could afford to do was sit at home. And herein lies a huge difference, so I'm told, between Americans and our European cousins where the latter would readily jump at the chance to get away from the office. Americans like me, on the other hand, can feel useless and worried for sitting around the house doing nothing while work piles up and we get behind with each passing day.


I've always maintained that a true vacation is being out of touch with those people, places and things that define both personal and professional life. Visiting the family over the holidays is exactly that, a holiday. Going to Greece for the first time? Now that's a vacation.


A key component of any vacation for me is being physically separated from everyday life but also in this day and age being electronically unavailable. No cell phones, pagers, smart phones, e-mail or internet. There is nothing going on back at the office that can't wait for me to return and I've left explicit instructions for coverage if my vacation coincides with a project deadline of some kind. Until I return, "I know you're on vacation but this will only take a minute," will never have a chance to turn into an hour-long conference call. From the beach. In Rio. With sand in my biscuits.


The longest vacation I ever took spanned three weekends but really added up to about 12 days in Australia and New Zealand. I was ready to come home and more than paid the price for it when I opened my e-mail inbox the following Monday but who goes to the South Pacific for only a week. It almost takes that long to get there (mentally anyway).


A vacation is being able to not think about office politics or projects, about letting go completely without feeling guilty about leaving in the first place. If, that is, you can get it scheduled at all.


Gotta go.

Bodrum and the Beach

Bodrum, Turkey is a site of exquisite Mediterranean beauty and loaded with significant history. Few Americans have ever heard of the place yet it is a popular enough destination for Europeans, only 4.5 hours flight from London. Europeans seem more willing to explore and enjoy out of the way destinations, even ones in the United States whereas Americans seem interested only in marquee destinations.

Want proof? When Americans think of a European vacation the vast majority automatically rattle off the usual big-splash suspects of London, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam and Munich, the big city tours. When Greece and Spain come in to the conversation those destinations remain limited to Athens, Mykonos, Santorini, Barcelona, the Madrid region and possibly Ibiza/Mallorca. That's it. Their entire "foreign" experience summed up in to one or two destinations and whatever is within a day's drive or an hour's flight or sail from there. Oh how there is so much more!

For the sake of it just Google "British Holiday Companies" and see the endless list that pops up. Well established names like Thomson, Thomas Cook, Monarch and Direct Holidays. Pick any of their websites and just browse the destinations each one offers, many in competition with at least two or three other outfits and some including their own in-house air transportation. Thomson Holidays, for example, is affiliated with Thomsonfly, billed as the third largest airline in the United Kingdom.

A charter airline owned by a vacation company the third largest in the country? And where do they fly? Between the two sister companies there are listed seven destinations in Egypt alone, six in South Africa and 22 of the Greek Islands. Thomas Cook lists the entire country of Brazil as a destination but specifies 12 unique options in Bulgaria. Bulgaria? Not to be chintzy, Thomas Cook offers over 30 destinations in the United States, from Aspen to Cincinnati and Charleston to Portland.

The Europeans live in the big cities we want to visit so it makes sense they want to go someplace else, especially when we come to town! Spain IS Florida to most Brits, so long as it has an airport, some kind of accommodation to choose from and predictably bright and sunny weather with beaches and surf to enjoy they're all over it, from Sitges to Malaga, Alicante and back. Americans go to Egypt for the pyramids; the Europeans have already been so they hideaway by the sea at Sharm El-Sheikh, again soaking up the sun before heading north to home and the gloom of winter.

But back to Bodrum. Right by the Mediterranean, Bodrum offers a 13,000 seat amphitheater, a huge crusader era Castle of the Knights of St. John and the remnants of the Great Mausoleum, one of the seven ancient wonders of the world. All that plus sun and sand, too? Hell, few American vacation companies would even offer something this exotic and out of the way. American Express' website couldn't even spell B-o-d-r-u-m! The question is, how to get there on the cheap from this side of the Atlantic?

The airport code is "BJV" and airfare alone through Travelocity from Chicago for travel on July 1st and back on the 15th started at $2,111 round trip on Turkish Airlines with one 2.5 hour stopover in Istanbul. Expensive but far easier to get to than previously thought. To assuage any third-world visions of what this region of Turkey must be like, the airport is only 20 miles north of town, it opened a new international terminal in 2000, boasts a 9,500 ft. concrete runway and is served by some 40 different airlines!

By comparison, using the same days of travel, a roundtrip ticket from Chicago to London started at $878 on American Airlines. Searching Monarch Holidays from the UK, a seven-night Bodrum package including air leaving on July 3rd and returning to London on the 11th produced five pages of options ranging from $365 at the budget Delta Hotel to $1,750 per person at the top end Kempinski Barbaros Bay pictured above. That includes flights on Monarch Air, the house airline in operation since 1960 and offering Boeing and Airbus equipment to over 100 destinations worldwide, plus the hotel. Uh, and did you also notice the four extra days in London, too? Those hotel nights are not included but at the low end hotel choice the savings is still an amazing $868 over the Turkish Airlines fare alone.

Gotta go.

Air Rail

American airports have a long way to go to catch up to their European counterparts. Every major airport on both sides of the Atlantic has at least one decent business hotel either directly on the property or very close by so that is not the issue. All of them are accessible by major highway as well so again that is not the complaint. It is hard, extremely hard to compare the food court concept at most U.S. airports with the local food offerings at airports in Germany, France and Spain although European airports are just as guilty when it comes to fast food. No, my complaint is the lack of decent public transportation at most of the major airports in the United States and the constant bickering that goes with trying to improve access.
Looking at just public transportation, right now Dallas/Ft. Worth International has a public bus system that runs from the South Entrance in to downtown Dallas after about 90 minutes worth of riding and transfers. This compares to 25 minutes in to town with smooth traffic. Light rail service is being built, similar to the Washington Metro being extended out to Dulles but who knows when that will be completed. For the 3rd busiest airport in the country it is simply shameful that some kind of rail service was never included or at least built in to DFW's master plan.
Atlanta's Hartsfield/Jackson, O'Hare at Chicago, San Francisco and Reagan National at Washington all have subways that run directly in to the terminal building or at least within a short covered walk. Let's compare that to Heathrow where the Underground serves no less than three stops but the Paddington Express offers a hi-speed nonstop option in to the heart of the city as well.
What Heathrow doesn't have is a direct rail link within the national rail system, something Frankfurt and Paris both offer, including the high-speed "ICE" and "TGV," respectively. It is simply amazing to land in Paris and hop a "bullet train" to Brussels, arriving in less than 90 minutes instead of having to back track south in to the city, finding the correct station (out of six) and then making your way back to the Belgian capital. Certainly Amtrak is no match for the French SNCF rail network but it is simply the inter-modal transportation options available elsewhere that I have to wonder how it would enhance traveling here in the United States.
The Swiss set the gold standard for linking various public systems together along with the Dutch. Trains, buses and planes are linked to allow at least one connecting option on any given day from any point in the country to the rest of the world at large without having to use private cars short of driving to the nearest station. Distances are shorter from even the farthest corners of the country but the simple fact is the system is in place and works very well.
National rail service in the United States is all but dead but there are some things that can still be done for most cities. Light rail connections in to town even if it is the only rail service in the entire area would be a start. The regional hi-speed rail systems the current administration is planning would be great to link the major airports a la Charles De Gaulle, too. We need something, and it has to start somewhere.
Gotta go.

The Trannies

Hah! And what exactly were you thinking this article would be about? since it portends to be a travel blog then hopefully some of you will know that "trannie" in this context is jargon for "Transcon" or transcontinental service of the nonstop kind from coast to coast. It could also refer to Transatlantic or Transpacific flights but rarely if ever would it refer to something like Transasian or Translatin. A flight from Buenos Aires or Rio to Santiago, Chile would be considered a transcon flight but the distance is not quite four hours of flying time and I'm not sure they even have the term in that part of the world. That said, let's take a look at the three we're most familiar with.

A transcon almost invariably refers to a domestic flight within the United States that leaves from one coast state, flies across the continent and arrives at another coastal state. The primary routes for this would be New York to California with other serious contenders being Boston and Washington, D.C. to California. Others qualify, such as Seattle to Miami or Atlanta to Portland but those markets tend to be smaller and, in the case of Atlanta, the city is not right on the water like Los Angeles, San Diego or San Francisco. Still, Georgia has a coastline so if the good people of the Peach State want to call their Atlanta to the West Coast flights transcons then who am I to begrudge them. Et tu, Charlotte.

The other two are not as US-centric although certainly the United States plays a large role in both markets. When one thinks of a transatlantic service it almost always means from somewhere in the United States to some place in Europe. That is not fair, however, to the other countries that also enjoy nonstop service across the ocean such as Brazil and even Peru, the latter of which supports a nonstop service to Madrid on Iberia. It makes sense the minute you think about it but there are still others as well, such as Buenos Aires to Frankfurt and even Sao Paulo to Cape Town, South Africa, probably one of the loneliest flights on the planet as it is the only regularly scheduled service across the South Atlantic at only three times per week.

Transpac is comparatively easy to decipher: the US and Canada to Asia and Australia/New Zealand. Or is it. What about the flights BETWEEN Asia and the Anzac Region? While vacationing in Auckland, not the largest market in the world, I found nonstop services on offer to Australia (duh), Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Japan and Hong Kong, any one of which could get the average Kiwi the rest of the way to Europe. Wow. Compared to that spread Los Angeles seemed almost a token market despite being the largest of the lot after Australia.

There is a lot of commercial flying out there, a lot of it seemingly concentrated on North America but certainly a respectable amount of it connecting people and places with literally no connections to the United States (or Canada) whatsoever. Know what? If they don't make the headlines you can assume every last one of those flights operated just as safely, too.

Gotta go.

You Touring YouTube

YouTube can be an even better way to see the larger world around us and in so many ways. Even better than some travel programming it is possible to see snippets of ordinary life in far away corners, spectacular scenery in places unheard of or experiences never even considered outside of our everyday lives. Just type in the YouTube search window and that is the extent of your wait to visit some exotic corner of the planet or specific moment in time - there is no waiting for scheduled programming.

The list is endless of the places one can go thanks to the camcorder efforts of the average tourist. YouTube to them is much easier to utilize than maintaining their own website while still wanting to share images of their vacations, honeymoons or family get-togethers with the rest of the world at large. The wisdom in posting some of these private moments is equally endless in debate but there they are for the curious and voyeuristic alike.

The thing that intrigues me about these images is being reminded that the rest of the world is alive and going about its business the same as I might be doing at that same moment in time. The more mundane things like rush hour traffic in Paris don't hold my attention for too long beyond simply seeing it and comparing it to the commute experience in, say, Washington, D.C. Simple things like people in other countries playing with their dogs just as I would mine at the end of a long day. Of course people have pets in other parts of the world but it doesn't register that they would or that the interactions appear to be exactly the same but for the language involved. A particularly funny moment involved unaware American tourists getting an up close view of a male camel bellowing romantically to any nearby female.

All of us have a list of places we've always wanted to go but for one reason or another are not quite sure we will ever get there. One of those for me is Victoria Falls on the Zambezi River in southern Africa on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. I stumbled across a video of a prone tourist floating in a tidal pool at the very edge of the 300-foot falls, his body at the surface with his head over the edge as if he could wash over the cataract at any second, proof of the power of the falls thundering seemingly at the end of his outstretched arms. I mean, seriously? The political environment in Zimbabwe and general health concerns in the area notwithstanding, I gotta do that!

Being an airplane nut I experienced as much of the inflight experience with the A380 as possible before actually flying on the plane for the first time in 2009. Watching 747s land in St. Maarten is not on my list of accomplishments yet but heaven knows there is plenty of footage taken by others who have experienced the good and bad of being that close to the engines on the beach head just at the end of the runway.

If I never get to any of these places they are only a click away on the internet without the marketing shills pushing upscale hotels and high end restaurants at me in to the bargain. The only thing I haven't done is post any of my own. Remember that debate about the wisdom of such a move?

Gotta go.

Wrong Way McDonald's

One of the strangest things I had ever done was to go through a McDonald's drive-thru backwards. Many of you have already tried to visualize going through in reverse either so the guy riding shotgun would be able to place his order directly but that's not what I meant. This relates to my first experience at the world-famous restaurant chain at one of their franchises in England. "Backwards" means that the drive-thru wraps around the building in the other direction, as in clockwise!

Many things are different about the overseas experience with fast food, all of which make it at interesting enough to almost be an adventure but certainly not the normal routine expected at home. In Germany a Filet-o-Fish is called a "Fisch Mac," for example. We all know by now that a country that operates on the metric system would therefore not have a "Quarter Pounder" on the menu so it might have a name like the French "Burger Royale" instead. Likewise they by now understand that the German word for big, "Gross," would NOT translate to steady sales from English speaking patrons who happen to stop by. Another reason for names like "Koenig'sburger" (King's Burger).

In England the product names tend to translate fairly easily so no worries about what exactly is being selected from the menu. The interiors of the restaurants from one country to another are also fairly innocuous and easily recognized, perhaps with a few local flairs thrown in just so the natives will feel more connected as well. While on business in London one time, though, we were in a hurry as most business travelers tend to be and decided we had just enough time to hit the drive through before going back to the office.

McDonald's was nearby, everybody knew the brand, the product and what to expect so in we go to the parking area, except I happened to be the one that was driving. Instinctively I started turn right to join the "queue" for the drive-thru. "No, mate, turn left!" my local companions warned before I completed my maneuver. In England with right-side drive (from the passenger seat to most others) the menu board and attendant speaker is on the right hand side of the car. To face it properly and not be considered a total "prat," the line for the window starts at the left side of the building.

Drive thru's in general tended to be more of a novelty at the time as opposed to something absolutely required in the design of the establishment. This is Europe, after all, where population density is much greater than America and land is certainly not to be frivolously paved over. Even at a lot of highway rest stops the logic leans towards entering the restaurant as opposed to pulling over in a drive-thru. One has to get gas in the first place, which means getting out of the car, plus the fact that a gallon of regular there is easily twice the cost in the United States. Not something to burn through so readily while idling in a drive-thru waiting on a burger and fries.

So here I am trying to navigate the narrow lane for the drive-thru near Heathrow Airport from the left side of the building while piloting a car from the right hand side of the front seat. Even though my favorite sandwich at Mickey-Ds is the Filet-o-Fish I knew better than to order something like that while in England, home and reigning king of fish and chips.

I went with a Quarter Pounder!

Gotta go.

Debit Denied

I'm mad. That is certainly not how one wants to come home from a spectacular vacation but I'm mad just the same. I'm old enough to remember the days of stopping to get traveler's cheques before going overseas and having to plot where the nearest American Express office was to convert them at the best rates of exchange. Only fools and the rich used cash advances from their credit cards while overseas while the rest of us relied on cold, hard cash and the hotel safe. Today's traveler can use their debit cards for safety, convenience and attractive exchange rates but therein lies the problem and the reason for my anger.

In the ever evolving world of "fee-basing" I discovered upon returning home that an "International Transaction" fee was assessed each and every time I used my bank debit card. From as little as a 30-cent minimum to nearly $8, the fee ranged on the monetary value of the sale. The additional insult was my bank claimed innocence in the matter, that it was merely a pass-through from the local bank in the country I was visiting who assessed the fee in support of converting the currency values. They wanted a commission, basically, for electronically converting currencies at the point of sale. Please.

The additional mud in the eye was the fact that the "International Transaction" fee said no more than that. There was nothing tying it to the actual transaction for me to trace and either accept or challenge later. I mean, I used my debit card just to buy soda and popsicles at a convenience store - who keeps the receipt for something that simple and even if I did, how do I know which fee went with it? Not knowing about the fees before I departed exposed me to nearly $50 of unplanned charges against my bank account upon my return which, thankfully, I had funds to cover. Still, my blood boils at the thought of even one of those fees resulting in a $35 NSF fee from the bank. I was gone three weeks and used that card at least 4-6 times per day - do the math.

The real anger, though, came something like the third day in to the vacation when my card was suspended. You go on vacation, you make sure you have money in the bank to cover your expenses right? You go out of the country, however, and that suddenly flags as a major departure from your "normal spending pattern" which triggers an alert at the bank to shut the card down as a safety precaution. I checked my funds before I left, the card and account both were in good standing, I'm over 8,000 miles from home and have been suddenly cut off from my financial lifeline?

A few aggravating and agitated long-distance calls later and I've reached my bank, verified my identity and location and had the card reactivated. I'm good to go for the rest of the vacation. I accept their apology for the inconvenience and thank them for looking out for my financial security...but I'm still mad. And I've got an idea how to fix it, too.

Gotta go.

Music for Motoring

Few things match the open road with the top down and the radio blasting in the front seat. The car and the AM radio is one of the most storied pairings of modern technology, forever immortalized in films such as "American Graffiti." If you didn't have a Thunderbird or at least even know Suzanne Summers you still wanted the experience of the wind in the hair and the Beach Boys singing the praises of California girls, right?

Not always. But the endless highways and ever changing scenery of America or any picturesque part of the world such as this pass in New Zealand pictured here have always been irresistible to millions of car and driving enthusiasts, myself included. I remember my first cross-country trip in a blue Pontiac my parents had given me during my sophomore year at college. I drove from Baltimore to Dallas by way of Atlanta which was two days of torture because the speed limit was still set at 55 MPH and this old Pontiac only had an AM radio. Between traffic, watching for cops and constantly fidgeting with the dial to find any listenable station I somehow survived the trip with an overnight stop in - wait for it - Meridian, Mississippi. Sigh.

Good music was not only a requirement to help pass the miles but that certain types of music had to match specific moods, the time of day and the surrounding scenery. Classical in the morning along the coast can be a good and relaxing thing but after dark in the desert following eight hours of driving, not so much. Still, the limited range of most stations required channel surfing roughly every two hours even for the more powerful signals. It was always amusing and frustrating to be tuned in to 103.7 and then without even changing the dial a country crooner would suddenly pop up, grieving the death of his dog over a longneck beer where Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes had been lamenting their women not knowing them by now!

XM Radio went a long way in guaranteeing never ending streams of clear sounding music that would play all the way across the country, a huge step-up from local programming and without commercials. Even for the most die-hard "Office Lite" fan, though, there has to be a change in flavor every now and then. Moreover, as much as I wanted steady listening I wasn't about to pay a subscription for something I used to and still could get for free. I could always bring my own.

My cars over the years have featured 8-tracks to cassettes and then CDs. Through the 90s and the turn of the century I would have a box of my favorite CDs in the passenger seat next to me and boast of my skill at changing out discs by feel without taking my eyes off the road. Still, this practice was dangerous and cumbersome, exposing myself and other motorists to accidents and my collection of music to theft. Something, anything, needed to come along that would make driving easier.

Like others with a huge collection of CDs I resisted the iPod as long as I could. I'm rarely one to jump on a fad right from the beginning, not buying my first iPod until 2008. Sifting through the accessories I found what I was looking for...a cassette adaptor that would let me enjoy my playlists through the car stereo. At last! Personally crafted music exactly suited to my tastes from my own collection and in the listening order I desire. Skipping a song or changing an entire playlist meant simply thumbing the flywheel. The "Shuffle" feature makes it even easier. Today the only reason not to have good music is simply whether or not I want to hear any at all.

Now if only I could afford a late model car that comes with a docking station so I could get rid of that high pitched feedback whining through the adaptor thingy!

Gotta go.

Losing Luggage

At the turn of the last century only the wealthy could afford leisure travel and they traveled in style. Fashionable passengers were known to travel with whole “mountains” of luggage, including enough steamer trunks, cases, hat boxes and cosmetic kits to do up a full-scale Broadway production…each. Whether emigrating to the new world or spending a few months abroad on holiday there were logical and influential reasons for carrying around so much stuff. In fact, it wasn’t all that long ago that lots of luggage signaled the arrival of the well-to-do with only slightly smaller wardrobe requirements.Who buys a full matching set of luggage today, seriously?

Other than, perhaps, the largest families who might have a need to visit Grandma the latest, minimalist trends in society heap scorn on the followers of conspicuous consumption. No "set of matching executive luggage with the genuine leather embellishments and initials" from Hyachinth "It's "Bouquet" Bucket today without facing loads of derision for her ostentation and sense of lording it over the common folks who often share one bag between every two of them. There are also the realities of traveling in the 21st century compared to the logistics of 100 years ago.

With arguably the single exception of a transatlantic crossing that still takes about as long today as it did when the Mauretania plied the route, intercontinental travel today takes hours instead of weeks. In this fast paced carry-on only world around us now it is not uncommon to bop off to the hinterlands for little more than a weekend. Most of us only need a couple changes of underwear, one casual and one dress pair of shoes and something for the evening just in case, all of which has to pass muster with airport security. Compare that to travel back in the day where the journey could span up to several months in duration. Hey, if it took forever and cost an arm and a leg to get there one wasn’t inclined to turn around and head right back home. The first week alone was just unpacking everything and very much getting one’s health back! After that trips that spanned seasons meant bringing seasonal clothes. Society functions in major cities added to the complexity of the accoutrements where the calendar could easily include the horses, the theater and any number of dinners, teas and premiers.

A couple of decades ago the re-envisioned Frontier Airlines charged $3 per bag for checked luggage while the major carriers sneered openly that theirs was the type of service that wouldn’t dream of such an outrage. USAirways, just one of many, sets its baggage allowance weight at 50 pounds per bag, charges $25 for the first bag and $35 for the second. Anything between 51 and 70 pounds is assessed $90 while 71 to 100 pounds hauls in $175 per bag; that last one had been recently increased the overweight charge from $100. Soooo…we’re up to $200 just for the first bag on one airline where the second bag starts at $35 before any overweight charges. Three or more bags start at $125 each but it gets more interesting from there. International bags are free for up to the first two depending on the destination but the second bag can cost $55 if traveling to Europe while the third bag can fetch $200 for Europe or Israel. At least domestic bags after the first two are not on a scale – bags three through nine are $125 each and all of this, domestic and international alike, is still before any overweight charges. Oh, oversized bags run $175 apiece.

Those high society travelers on the steamships of yesteryear? What about those $198 round trip tickets to Florida with the kids? Compare the excess baggage fees with the hotel budget is for the same trip and you get the idea.

Gotta go.

Time To Wait

There are some restaurants in Europe that only offer one sitting. It is not hard to imagine that the prices are high but the atmosphere just as rarified as patrons wait weeks for a table and are never, ever rushed through their meal in order to seat a second or third party. The concept is that the meal is only a part of the experience of simply enjoying an evening out at a fine restaurant with good company, good food, wine and service...almost literally all night long. Not so much, the experience at a typical American restaurant.

The dining culture in the United States is typically one that features dinner as part of a larger evening, be it dinner and a show or dinner and home to the kids or a favorite program. Rarely it seems do Americans dine out simply for the sake of some time together as a couple or part of a group just for conversation, fellowship or what have you. We rush to get a good reservation, hustle for a good table and then, encouraged by both wait staff and the establishment itself, we hurry through a meal only to decide later whether or not it was all worth the effort. Anything over an hour at most restaurants in America is considered déclassé and a colossal waste of time.

High volume and low prices is the order of the day in virtually every business, particularly in the restaurant game where waiting tables is not a career profession in North America as it can be in Europe. Few people other than the restaurant manager make anything close to a comfortable living while the wait staff is often a healthy mix of Florence Jean "Flo" Castleberrys from the TV series "Alice" and bored, gum-snapping Generation Y'ers hustling tips to supplement their student loan money. And in the high-energy culture of dining out on this side of the Atlantic the only way for any waiter or waitress to earn a living is to keep the tables turning.

Service must be courteous and attentive but fast. It is not necessarily rude here to be presented with the check when the waiter perceives your dining experience to be over. The worst part to me, however, seems to be an increasing trend in wait staff at the end of their shift boldly asking tables to cash out while they're still on the clock so they can get the tip instead of their replacement. Even worse, some restaurants will ask to close the exiting ticket and open a second for as long as you with to remain.

Big problem here, of the kind that just doesn't happen in Europe, and not much of an incentive for the desert and coffee server, either. I don't necessarily see an issue with the waiters and waitresses who feel compelled to protect their earnings in this fashion. The issue I see is with the restaurant itself who do not have a system in place to support their staff better. Why seat parties in a section where the shift is about to change? Why not log tickets according to when they opened so the exiting waiter's work will be paid when that table finally decides to up and leave?

One abysmal summer during my college years I was a cater waiter, the lowest form of wait staff save that of the buffet server. Neither can ever expect much in the way of tips and we were never permitted to hint or overtly beg for gratuities. I got $10 once and was told by the customer not to share the news with my lead waitress. He didn't like her but thought that I was at least giving it a good college try to serve his table.

That event and the art of serving both seem so long ago.

Gotta go.

Plane Spotting under Clear Skies in California

The most elusive commodity in the City of Angels is the very sunshine Los Angeles builds its reputation around. Smog, fog and haze generally rule the air above the city where landing at Los Angeles International Airport in a brown swirl is as routine as the traffic on The 405 just to the east of the field. I lived there in the mid-90s and well remember one day to the next when the sun seemed only to come out at dusk and then just in time to set on the Pacific horizon. The temperature was always as advertised, along with the weather itself, rarely ever a rainy day but the skies above were best viewed after take-off heading back to wherever the disappointed tourist came from.

One Sunday afternoon last December was a day right out of central casting. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the weather was a comfortable 75 degrees. This is the kind of day the travel brochures boast of and the realtors use to lure unsuspecting citizens in to god awfully pricey real estate. For me I couldn't have dialed up a better day for one of my favorite activities of all time, plane watching.
I'd already been to the beach and captured some glorious sunsets the Friday before, including this one. Saturday was the day for one of the ultimate music fan pilgrimages, a trip to Neverland Ranch to see what I could see of the former home of the late Michael Jackson. Today was a day, relatively speaking, to relax by the side of one of the greatest international airports in the world and watch airplanes from the four corners come and go under text book California sunshine.

"Funeral Hill" on the south side of the airport is in El Segundo just along the surface road that marks the beginning of The 105 freeway running east towards Norwalk. It got this colloquial name due to the Douglas Funeral Home that sits across the road at the top of the hill that offers unfettered views of the entire southern half of LAX. The skies were clear enough to see the "Hollywood" sign and all of downtown while laid out before me were the international gates as well as the terminals for American, Delta, Continental and United.

It was early afternoon and I had largely missed what is known as the "Asian Invasion" when the major Pacific Rim carriers launch for Korea, Japan and China. Air New Zealand and V-Australia were cooling their heels on the west side remote stands waiting to start the journey south long after dark and long after I will have left for the day. I did see China Airlines head in to the sun bound for Taiwan but the real show for me was to be the similar exhibition of European airlines headed east for all the usual places. British Airways and Lufthansa were in plain sight and would surely lift off before the sun set.

Ever since I was a child, so my parents tell me, I always wanted to know "where dat one going?" whenever they took me on an outing to the airport. I've been in love with airplanes ever since. Seeing a recognizable international flag carrier launching in to the sky lifts my spirit and imagination.

I know where dat one is going and I wish I was on it!

Gotta go!

Something Unique - Paris

There is no such thing as a forgettable trip to Paris. From the novice overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the experience through to the jaded regular who probably maintains an apartment in the 7th arrondissement all have their reasons to love, hate or tolerate the city. All are in agreement that, rich or poor, cynical or optimistic, traveling to Paris is never anything less than a big deal.

I used to enjoy wrapping up a trip to Paris by shopping for one thing the French create like no other culture in the world: toiletries. Just like the endless selection of French wines, cognacs and champagnes there is an equally bottomless supply of authentic "French milled" soaps, cosmetics, perfumes and colognes. Shelves overloaded with exotic sounding names, brands and fragrances stretch through entire departments at major stores such as La Samaritaine just along the Seine and directly across the Pont Neuf Bridge from the island of Il St. Louis.

The current building has stood since 1933 although the company itself first opened in 1869. Not simply a retail department store with a killer location, Samaritaine is also famous for its the rooftop cafe that every local knew offered views of the city few tourists knew about. Through eleven floors was the kind of luxury merchandise taken for granted by Parisians and coveted by every once-in-a-lifetime tourist in town.

Another retailer that used to be elusive in the United States but is now seen just about everywhere is Sephora. The flagship store on the Champs Elysees when it first opened was simply a must stop of the kind that had to be seen to be believed. It was never a "big box" retailer in size. Sephora drew part of its fame from the number and variety of fragrances for men down one side actually matched the number and variety of fragrances for women on the other side of the store. The real treat was seeing all manner of new and established products not available back home.

The ultimate highlight of the store for me was the central area that held dozens upon dozens of bottles and vials of pure oils, elixirs and essences of everything on the planet that had a beautiful smell. The idea was, if it were possible to not find something you liked from one of the major brands then you could design your own fragrance from the selection of goodies on hand. Right alongside the essence of virtually every flower known to man was every fragrant wood, citrus fruit and aromatic grass you could think of; men were not overlooked in the effort to find something unique for the unique individual at Sephora.

It's been a while since I've been in Paris. Samaritaine is closed but supposed to reopen this year. I'm told that Sephora no longer offers the create your own fragrance station. Certainly their exclusive cache has become as common as a suburban mall, too, sadly, going so far as to partner up with JC Penney! One thing I found, though, that neither Samaritaine or Sephora ever carried is a very unique cologne indeed. A friend discovered it in Amsterdam but it is tied to a major jewel house in Paris by way of Russia. It is only available at their store in Paris that I have found along with one retailer in Hong Kong. I've seen ads for it on offer through Amazon but please. Seriously?

No store I have ever gone to has the slightest idea what I'm talking about and, though it is challenging to keep the cologne in stock, I like it a lot that few other people have the slightest idea how good it is and what they're missing! Find it if you can!

Gotta go.

Making Soft Water

My very first digital camera is a Canon product in what they call the "hybrid" range, meaning it is essentially a point-and-shoot but comes with many of the adjustable functions of a standard SLR. I felt it was a good compromise from the film-based camera I decided it was time to replace. It was certainly easier on the wallet than the rig I really wanted which would have set me back better than $1400 or more. I no longer work in the travel industry and therefore could not justify that expense when weekend getaways to the ends of the earth had ended some time ago. A casual, every now and then digital camera to at least get started with seemed the ticket.

Heck, the thing came with a manual large enough to convince me that it was just as flexible as my old camera, it simply had the one built-in lens. And that owner's manual prompted me to not only get accustomed to the basics of taking a decent picture but to really discover what the camera was capable of and moreover what I had been missing out on all this time. One of the biggest goals I set was to learn how to take "soft water" pictures.

The obvious thing about the technique is an extended exposure time and either a very steady hand which I do not have or a tripod and stable platform somewhere near the subject. The trick is not to over-expose the shot and wash everything out. The goal, however, is worth the effort in trying to recreate the kind of pictures seen here that also grace the glossiest travel magazines and vacation brochures.

Where most visitors thing largely of Split or Dubrovnik, The Plitvice Lakes of central Croatia are comparatively overlooked yet among the most beautiful in the world. They are a series of 16 lakes connected by hundreds of waterfalls as shown here, a few hours drive south of the capital of Zagreb. Not only do I want to go there one day but I'd love to take some captivating pictures of the lakes and using the "soft water" technique for the falls but only after much, much practice. It would help as well if I had a helicopter fee in the budget to get this same angle but that's another worry for another day. Until then this second shot is within my reach after some good practice.

Living in North Central Texas there are not the kinds of waterfalls that can compare with those in Plitvice much less Niagara Falls or the Iguacu Falls in Brazil. I did have one option, the Fort Worth Water Gardens. Made famous as the setting for the finale of the 1976 film "Logan's Run" I knew the location well and knew it to be dramatic enough in its own manmade way. I live in the area, access to the park is free and I had all day long on a Saturday to try and get it right.

This is the best I was able to come up with on the first try. It shows some promise but clearly a long way to go from the example above mine! I didn't have a tripod but didn't need one given the several concrete risers all around the park. I have a tripod now and as soon as the spring flowers make their appearance I'll be back to give it another try!

Gotta go!

Banned Reading and Wandering

Reading and traveling go hand in hand back to the days of horse-drawn carriages and beyond. What better way to while away the hours than with stimulating light reading, thought provoking prose or some scandal sheet rattling off juicy tidbits no more grounded in truth than water running uphill? For those less traveled it is more often than not the written word along with a few choice photographs that carry us back in time, to distant shores or both.

How sad it is to continue to see such things as lists of banned literature. Age appropriate guidelines I can live with but to have books out and out banned from public consumption, particularly in the school systems is to me the height of the very oppression so many of these concerned and learned factions claim to abhor. Am I more enlightened than any other living soul? Hardly, yet I am certainly no less sensitive to insensitive thought, conjecture or statement. How, then, have I been able to read some of these banned titles where children today are not permitted the same level of diverse reading?

In high school in the late 70s and early 80s I was required to read “The Scarlet Letter,” “To Kill A Mockingbird,” “As I Lay Dying,” “Animal Farm” and “Madame Bovary” among some 50 titles banned in certain parts of the United States . Other titles from that list which I later read of my own volition include “Gone With the Wind,” “Jaws,” “Catch-22” and “Of Mice and Men.” I’m re-reading the “Harry Potter” series from start to finish, all of which are also on the list.

I found “The Scarlet Letter” to be boring and much ado about nothing and I couldn’t understand why pigs were chosen as the overlords of society in “Animal Farm” as opposed to bulls, roosters or any other strutting and preening animal in the barnyard. I enjoyed Bovary’s tale of illicit love while I will always remember my mother and I agreeing to each read 50 pages a piece to each other so we could get through the difficult narrative of “Mockingbird.” Much of the story and symbolism from all of these are long gone and forgotten, honestly, so either they had no impact upon my impressionable mind at the time or they hold no sway over my view of the world today despite any subliminal messages from the writing that might have taken hold.

Then there is “Huckleberry Finn.” Saw the movie, read the book and simply accepted at a young age that such language was part of life at the time it was written. The satire caught with me but the dialogue itself has no bearing on my relationships with others today. Most importantly, at a very young age I saw through all of that to the beauty of the friendship between two fish out of water looking for nothing so complicated as love and acceptance.

I wondered what river boating would be like just as vividly as I raced through the streets of Paris trying to imagine the ultimate fulfillment of unrequited longing or the bittersweet taste of justice served after a needless crime was committed. Then I wonder, like so many others around the world, why in seven installments there was never one mention of an American, Asian or African school of witchcraft and wizardry!

As if there was never that kind of voodoo anywhere outside of Europe ?!

Gotta go.

I Need Ice!!

"Yu vant dat mit eis?" the German flight attendant asked politely as she and her comrades wheeled their overflowing and rickety drink carts down the left-side aisle. I was in an aisle seat heading back to the United States from a vacation in the Middle East by way of the Lufthansa fortress hub at Frankfurt. Lufthansa is a solid airline, one of the premier carriers in the world not so much for its level of service but more for its attention to detail and its legendary cultural compulsion towards operating on time. As the saying goes, you can set your watch by the German train system and use that to hop a flight on Lufthansa just about anywhere the sun shines. Unfortunately, German culture along with the rest of Europe in general foregoes one thing most Americans like me can't live without - ice.

After ordering my Coke which, again per German preference, came with a spritz of lemon fizz, the flight attendant served an eight ounce tumbler of the sparkling beverage with, count'em, two small cubes of ice. I mean these were the kind of cubes we Yankees automatically write off the minute they hit the drink simply to begin cooling our favorite libation. Sure enough these two pitiful things began circling in tighter circles in the center of the cup and getting smaller with each rotation. I couldn't tap her on the shoulder to ask for more; true to her training and upbringing she was already three rows back and heading to the galley almost as fast as the 747 was roaring to Chicago.

I've often engaged in conversations with friends and acquaintances from several countries around Europe and the result is predictably the same. Europeans prefer all beverages except coffee and tea at room temperature. It is the natural way in which water comes, the only way to drink beer or whiskey and chilled at best for vodka and white wines but nothing ever comes "on the rocks." The Germans and other peoples around the Alps like their milk and cream as close to factory fresh as it can get which quite often means warm from the cow or at least warmed up on the stove or steamed before hitting the table. Besides, goes the final argument, the ice takes up too much room in the glass for all the money paid to enjoy the drink in the first place.

"Y'all don't live in the desert!" goes one of my counter-arguments. Neither do most Americans but the heat of the southern United States virtually requires drinks to be as close to freezing as possible while maintaining liquidity. Who wants to drink "room temperature" water when the outside temperature and humidity can bring that water seemingly close to boiling? If the dry heat of the Southwest comes in to it along with triple-digit temperatures, if we could drink a solid block of ice we would!

The bottom line is each side views ice according to custom. When in Europe I've had table or bottled water served as is and thought nothing of it. Bottled water is cheap and tap water is free where any other drink in Europe can easily can set you back almost a solid day's pay. Besides, even grown men like me love the memories that come with warm milk in the morning - once you get past wondering if the milk was left out all night.

Not too long ago I remember a conversation with a lady who shared my passion for Coca-Cola. We traded tips on the best way to serve the fizzy confection. Hers was a bit more ritualistic than mine, requiring the placement of three cubes of ice precisely, no more no less, with the soda poured over that slowly. Mine isn't as elaborate but it left her and all the Europeans I've ever met thunderstruck just the same.

I prefer the inflight service on foreign flag carriers like Lufthansa, Qantas and Emirates but I know that, if nothing else, I can get ice on United and American. Fill that cup/glass/whatever to the absolute rim with ice, preferably crushed, and pour!

Gotta go!

In Your Eyes

I’m an Army Brat, meaning I have been traveling to Europe since I was 18 months old. The first time I saw Paris I was nine. The first time I traveled to England I was ten. Weekend trips to Austria, Switzerland and around Germany were part of our normal routine. Later, as an adult for both work and pleasure I’ve added much of the rest of Western Europe to that list of places that are often dreamt about as once-in-a-lifetime. I and my family are going back in 2011 and while there I want to explore a different part of Europe never before seen by this pair of eyes.

Before “Braveheart” few people outside of Scotland had heard of or remembered William Wallace. Somehow his story was discovered and turned in to a major film release, for a while sparking international interest in travel to Stirling at the center of the land between Glasgow and Edinburgh. I’d like to discover something like that; something few outside the local village have heard about; something National Geographic might cover if even they have caught wind of the story. And I’d like you to tell me where to go!

In Europe, that is.

Here are the options:
Norway Sweden Finland Estonia Latvia Lithuania
Portugal Hungary Romania Bulgaria Moldova Croatia
Slovenia Slovakia Macedonia Albania Malta Serbia
Bosnia Herzegovina Montenegro Belarus Ukraine Luxembourg

Having been to Europe so many times including having lived there I believe in the power of wonder and discovery through a fresh set of eyes. I don't mind the major highlights, like the fjords of Norway but the little known (by American standards) is what I'm after. How many Americans have enjoyed a Finnish sauna above the Arctic Circle, reindeer steaks and all for after? Patton is buried in Luxembourg but most Americans, if they go at all, might stop in at Normandy instead. So far the most appealing thing I've found are the Plitvice Lakes in central Croatia, terraced reservoirs of blue water laced together by waterfalls and surrounded by mountains.

At this writing the trip will take place over two weeks in June, 2011 so please consider the following when helping me choose a destination. Essentially, it cannot take too long to get to or require a lot of red tape to pass through. I’m looking for something compelling in terms of the human or personal experience as well, from an ancestral birthplace to the location of the Yalta Conference.

Here are the conditions:
1. Does not require a visa for entry
2. Can be reasonably explored within one week
3. Offers reasonable travel logistics (easy to get to/from and around)
4. Offers compelling well-known as well as long-forgotten history
5. Includes unique art, architecture, geography and gastronomy (food!)
6. Is not under a travel advisory issued by the Department of State


The survey will run until April 30, 2011. That will allow time for planning (and saving) along with one other thing I’d like to propose.

Join me! In the meantime, starting with the next post spend a month with me in Greece.

Gotta go.

All That For a Bagel?

“I just want a bagel,” the British guy in front of me at Noah’s lamented one fine San Francisco day. After making his way to the front of the line the sad exchange began.

“I’d like a bagel, please.” Eye roll immediately followed.

“What kind?” Slightly befuddled expression right behind it.

“Regular.” And so on until, after being offered cinnamon raisin, egg, poppy seed, sourdough, potato, onion, blueberry, sun-dried tomato, whole grain, seven grain, garlic, pumpernickel and low-carb, the guy turned around, looked at me nearly in tears and pleaded for help. As they say in the UK, I helped get him happily “sorted out” with a plain bagel until the game started all over again.

“What flavor shmear?” (Cream cheese)

As tourists overseas and even in different parts of the United States we face such scenarios played out with amusing regularity. A Seattle resident in Charlotte on business might have heard of grits but that doesn’t stop the What-Am-I-Supposed-To-Do-With-Those look on the face when they’re served with a stick of butter melting in the middle. Likewise visitors to Texas from England are routinely amazed that we still wear Stetson hats and boots.

As a child of the military my life was one of constant adjustment, whether relocating to the Midwest, the South or back across the sea to Germany. After one such repatriation to the States my sisters and I insisted our first stop outside of customs was a 7-11 to knock off a three-year itch for a Slurpee. When we returned to Germany a few years later we made a beeline to the local candy store for Haribo Gummy Bears!

More than food, we had to learn social customs in different parts of the world, how to greet someone, when to use formal versus informal language and what acceptable hand gestures back home could open up a world of trouble somewhere else. Our own rhythms adjusted from Germany where walking and public transportation got most things done to life back home in the suburbs. Suddenly one family car wasn’t enough to support work schedules, after school activities or simply going to the movies.

We had an advantage. Military bases overseas are microcosms of the United States only with extremely blended neighborhoods. We never lost touch with our Americanisms but regularly enjoyed travel within, shopping, dining and socializing with our German hosts and other countries nearby.

For my family it was simply a part of life. Unlike foreign volunteer work which can last a month or a lifetime, the impact on our lives of routinely living overseas and in different parts of the country evolved over time. We learned that most Americans did not vacation in Europe and that most Europeans, whatever their nationality, when they consider the United States often only see a single largely homogenous culture like they enjoy themselves. My favorite question of all time is “What is it like to live in America?”

My poor British friend at the bagel shop nearly walked out when the equally exasperated counterman asked if he wanted his regular bagel toasted. I smiled wickedly over the thought of taking him shopping for shampoo or pasta sauce.

Gotta go!

The Planning Begins

A family member lives in Europe as of this writing and will be celebrating a major birthday next year so the planning for the event has already begun. How to stagger the time such that all do not show up and then leave at the same time, creating joyful chaos for a few days only to be followed by massive post-partum depression once all and sundry have returned to their respective homes?

Mother has already stated quite clearly that she would be the last to leave, wanting to make sure the honored guest would have a calm and steady return to normalcy once everyone else has departed. It will also provide them quality time to visit without having to deal with other people or participate in planned, elaborate or even impromptu tours around the countryside in which they by then would have little interest. This would just be visiting time for them and I'm perfectly fine with that. The question is what do I do in the meantime?

Since I don't travel nearly as much as I used to this trip to Europe presents a golden opportunity to do many things, among them revisit old stomping grounds and explore new territories. The trouble is there remain so many things to see and do that choosing something to provide the most impactful experience is proving quite difficult indeed. At the same time I am trying to keep things down to only two weeks for the sake of expense since most likely I will be traveling alone.
In Western Europe the list of undiscovered countries is fairly small, including the Scandinavian nations, Portugal and Italy. Central Europe offers the enticements of Hungary and the Baltic States while the Adriatic region has never been explored, to include Serbia, Croatia and Bosnia & Herzegovina.

Then there's Russia and Turkey, one of which costs an arm and a leg while the other represents similarly large logistical issues of squeezing in everything I would want to explore in a week's time. Add on top of that wanting to see other family and friends throughout Great Britain and hopefully my dilemma is more clearly defined. I haven't been to London, Paris or Germany in at least nine years and would like to revisit all of those places but with time and resources being equally precious I feel compelled to strike out in new directions. I want to see as much of the world as I possibly can while I'm still willing and able!

I've thought about setting up a poll to allow you the readers to decide where I should go and what I should do but I'm not one for hiking the Matterhorn, running the bulls at Pamplona or traveling such great distances for the sake of a class in stocks and sauce reductions. I wouldn't mind paying a visit to an ancestral home on behalf of someone though; I would find that most interesting indeed.

Portugal is high on the list because it is small and economical with a compelling history, culture and cuisine. The same can be said of Malta, Romania and Croatia but if I spent the first week visiting family and friends between up to three different countries, I only have time for one new place during the second half.

What to do?

Gotta go.