Story and photos by Ted Alan Stedman

“There are tiger leeches along the trail – harmless, but I suggest you wear these protective socks,” cautioned Shane Beary as he handed me garter-length muslin stockings to thwart the little blood suckers. I scoffed until the strapping former South African military survivalist-turned-guide gave me a look that said I’d be sorry if I didn’t. Muslin garters it was.

I’d just arrived at Pang Soon Lodge and Track of the Tiger outdoor education center to explore surrounding trails buried deep in northern Thailand’s mountain rainforests. Being the first stop of a two-week adventure ramble, it seemed I was off to a good start. Beary’s Track of the Tiger caters to travelers wanting to experience what he calls a slice of “untrammeled Thailand.” He wasn’t kidding. Beyond the lodge clearing, the landscape dissolved into a near-impenetrable forest primeval, emanating the same jungle chatter you’d expect on Animal Planet.

With several Khon Muang village forest guides wielding sticks and machetes, we climbed up from the Mae Lai stream and followed a 19th century horse caravan trail leading to Lampang, then waded through rivulets and maneuvered the botanical maze before arriving at a misty waterfall with a pristine plunge pool. While I removed an errant tiger leech enjoying my blood, I half-jokingly asked if they were the inspiration for the center’s Track of the Tiger name.

“Actually, that would be the four-legged variety,” he said. “There used to be a fair number of tigers roaming these mountains.”

“But no longer?” I asked.

“Well, there were several cattle killed and eaten recently down the valley,” he conceded. “No worries. Tigers generally avoid groups of humans.”

With those encouraging words we threaded our way through the verdant landscape several kilometers back to the lodge. Though we never glimpsed any stripes – we settled for an emerald pit viper nonchalantly draped from a branch – the prospect added that palpable sense of adventure that had drawn me half-way around the world.

Bustling Bangkok, Buddhist temple circuits and lavish resorts dotting the paper-white coastlines are Thailand’s tourism mainstays. But the country also has a spirited “soft adventure” scene that’s exploding in popularity, especially in the conjoined Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai provinces of the north. The region straddling the ancient southern spur of the Silk Road has become Thailand’s nature hub, flaunting the most densely forested land in the area, the country’s two highest peaks, elephant sanctuaries, numerous tribal villages, trekking trails and sizeable rivers. For my money it seemed like Eden – even with leeches.

From Chiang Mai, I ventured into the surrounding lush valleys and misty mountains of what was known as The Kingdom of Lanna, or “Kingdom of a Million Rice Fields.” A new enterprise worth checking out was Flight of the Gibbon, a zip-line stitching together 100-foot-high platforms in the stately old growth forest of Mae Kompong. I’ve done my share of zip-lines, including marginal outfits where a little voice in my head questioned the rationality of literally putting my life on the line. But this operation was expertly built by a Kiwi zip-line guru who made sure all safety precautions were in place.

Zooming tree-to-tree at 30 mph and over 100 feet above the forest floor was an adrenaline rush. And also a nature fix. Skirting the upper canopy of the magnificent rainforest puts you eye-to-eye with some interesting life forms: orchids, colorful birds and a few things of the wiggly variety. Of course our eyes and ears were trained for the local celebrities that are the outfit’s namesake primate, the lanky, long-armed gibbons that routinely swing among the trees here. But just like the elusive tigers days earlier, there were no sightings on this day, though we could hear the primates whooping it up somewhere in the treetops.

If tigers and gibbons were absent, Thailand’s most charismatic icon, the Asian elephant, certainly wasn’t. On the outskirts of Chiang Mai the Patara Elephant Farm might be one of the county’s best places to interact with the pachyderms in a dignified way. When logging was banned in 1989, suddenly there was an elephant “surplus” as the animals lost their job security. Nowadays, pay-to-participate sanctuaries like Patara allow a portion of the country’s estimated 3,200 domestic elephants to live without the burden of hard labor or being reduced to Bangkok street performers.

At Patara I went through a detailed orientation of how to become a mahoutfor a day. Be forewarned: it’s not for the squeamish. Hands-on work required some gritty procedures involving elephant health, habits and other caregiving necessities. After the dirty work I was charged with giving Mekapawa, my feisty 23-year-old elephant, a scrub bath in a stream. Just imagine washing a moving RV without a ladder.

“She likes you,” observed one of Patara’s resident mahouts, pointing out her flapping ears and swishing tail. “It’s good. Mekapawa can be our most difficult elephant. That’s why you feed her lots.” Sound advice, I thought. So throughout my jostling bareback jungle ride to the waterfalls and back, I made sure 10,000-pound Mekapawa had plenty of opportunities to forage for grasses and bananas in the flourishing outdoor supermarket.

But all adventures here don’t veer into the wild. Walking the streets of the province’s namesake capital is mesmerizing; think of it as an urban safari. You can wander the parameter of Chiang Mai’s Old City for hours on end, right along the still-intact fortress walls and moats built about 700 years ago. I might have put in miles carousing the boisterous aisles of the Night Bazaar, and the city’s oldest and most famous marketplace, Talat Warorot. From munching fried bamboo worms (“like popcorn” I was told) to seeing three-foot-long Mekong catfish slithering in tubs awaiting their fate, this exotic hive of raw commerce makes a Westerner re-calibrate their refined sensibilities.

A visit to Thailand wouldn’t be right without some Buddhist proclivities. Ornate temples are rarely far. In Chiang Mai, Wat Chedi Luang, dating to 1441, is the city’s most visited and a highlight of the local temple trail that usually takes in nearby Wat Chiang Man and Wat Phan Tao. To witness the height of Buddhist celebration, however, arrange travel here to coincide with the spectacular Yi Peng festival, held on the full moon during the second month of the Lanna calendar (late October to mid-November). This festival, known for the Lanna-style khom loy, or sky lanterns, is incomparable.

A melodic prayer ceremony attended by a gleeful throng of thousands gives way to countless candle lanterns launched into the night by worshipful monks. Like giant translucent orange lamps, the large paper contraptions rise thousands of feet, illuminating the black sky with a speckled constellation until they dissolve in a rain of glowing embers.

After several more day journeys to elephant camps and forest preserves, I drove a scenic four-hours north to Chiang Rai, Thailand’s northernmost province. This is where the mountains and lowland floodplains of the mighty Mekong River intersect with the borders of Myanmar (Burma) and Laos in what’s known as the fabled Golden Triangle. In the 19th century this region was the opium trade’s epicenter. But that’s all history now, and the area has moved on to become a traveler’s base for trekking, river excursions and for visiting nomadic hill people who’ve settled in villages on remote mountainsides.

From the capital city of Chiang Rai, a steep, rough mountain road with crater-sized potholes leads to the Yao and Akha Hill Tribe Village at Mae Chan. The Yao are friendly, heartwarming people who migrated from southern China and are unusual for being the only minority group in Thailand to have used a written Chinese language dialect. As I walked the dusty red clay corridors, children swarmed around me and smiling adults beckoned me with their handicrafts while small pigs, chickens and dogs roamed freely between rows of dirt-floor wooden houses.

A short drive away I visited the village of the Akha people, fairly recent arrivals who crossed into Thailand from Tibet and southern China just 100 years ago. The Akha people appear different from other tribals – smaller stature with darker complexions and delicate facial features. Another quality is that women wear highly exotic, ornamented costumes and metal jewelry that have become all the rage in Thai fashion circles. Walking this village I couldn’t help but think that these people were enduring a life of what Westerners would consider poverty. Yet all around me the children played like children anywhere and adults were busy with chores and maintaining their stilted homes perched on the steep hillside.

As I photographed some costumed women who posed for 20 bhat – a good deal –  my guide talked to one older Akha woman dressed in ornaments and colorfully detailed clothing. My guide said the woman asked where I was from. When she learned I was an American, she smiled with teeth stained dark red from chewing betel nut, and said something “She thinks you probably consider her village as poor, but that would be wrong,” my guide explained. “She wants you to know that they live simply but have everything they need. To the Akha, this is the most beautiful place in the world.”

I smiled back with a nod and a lump in my throat. “Tell her she’s right. This is the most beautiful place in the world.”

If you go: A premier eco-resort on the northern Thai-Myanmar border is the Four Seasons Tented Camp Golden Triangle (www.fourseasons.com/goldentriangle). Another luxury resort that accesses eco-adventure activities further south is the Four Seasons Chiang Mai (www.fourseasons.com/chiangmai/). Domestic airline routes make it easy to visit most regions in Thailand. Groups might consider private tour guides like those represented through Thai Tour Guides (www.thaitourguide.com).

More info:Visit www.tourismthailand.org. A good resource for planning flights and tours can be found at www.tat-usa.org.

Trekking through Africa – in Florida

Story and photos by Christine Loomis

Only a non-descript gate separates the crowded, theatrical “village” of Harambe from the narrow trail dissecting a light-and-shadow forest off limits to most visitors in Disney World’s Animal Kingdom. Outfitted in safari-style vests secured with leg straps and carabiners, our group of 12 trekkers experiences the breadth and depth of Disney’s legendary attention to detail, traipsing through a landscape so well crafted we can almost believe that we have been magically transported 7,000 miles from Orlando, Fla., to the Dark Continent.

Behind the gate, the world of tourists, rides, and giant turkey legs slips away, and if we aren’t in the real Africa, we are in a masterful simulation of it, complete with wild animals and a palpable sense of adventure. Opened in January 2011, this is Disney’s Wild Africa Trek.

With Swahili calls of jambo (hello) and twende (let’s go) echoing in the air, we follow our intrepid guides up the trail through the Little Ituri Forest, spurred on by promises that we will have a very different experience with the park’s wild animals than that of the average Disney World guest. True to the promise, in moments we’re standing above a river pool where two massive hippos lie semi-submerged in the sunlit water.

The younger of the two behemoth males is surprising quick to move just below us, positioned perfectly for the food he knows is coming. Sure enough, we’re joined by one of the park’s keepers, who tosses out factoids about hippos along with heads of lettuce that land with enviable precision in the waiting wide-angle jaws. Hippos, it is soon clear, are bottomless pits of appetite for salad greens.  The encounter produces fabulous photo ops, and it’s with some reluctance that we continue up the trail.

The trek isn’t for acrophobics – or anyone else who has a problem sauntering across two 165-foot-long suspension bridges slung 50 feet above the Disney-created Safi River. Sure, we’re tethered to safety cables as we creep across, but the bridges sway and bounce and have been meticulously crafted to appear well worn. There’s netting beneath the spaces where slats appear to have dropped away, but there’s still an edgy little thrill to each crossing.

Fortunately, more photo ops trump the potential fear (bring a long lens if you can). From the first bridge we see another view of hippos -- the females of the herd – and on the second we find ourselves swaying above the sun-baked backs of Nile crocodiles. Lounging in yawning indifference to the humans suspended above them, the crocs crowd the riverbanks and mini-island shores, soaking up the hot Floridian, um, African, sun.

After we step down from the bridge, we humans line up like the crocs, crowding the bank so we can lean out with the support of our ever-present tethers to digitally capture those faux crocodile smiles just a few feet below.

While the first part of the three-hour tour is by foot along forest trails, the second is a safari ride through the “Harambe Wildlife Reserve,” the savanna of Disney’s Imagineering team and a slew of biologists and other experts who together recreated a corner of Africa in Central Florida. It’s the same route as that of the park’s regular Kilimanjaro Safari, but the Wild Africa Trek is far more intimate.

Our vehicle has only 12 guests, and we can pull over in certain places to get better photos and more in-depth information on the animals and habitat.  Trekkers also make a 30-minute stop at a “safari camp,” a raised pavilion in the center of the reserve, where a sophisticated African-inspired snack/lunch is offered and, with luck, so are close-up views of animals that happen by.

On the afternoon of our visit, two white rhinos amble down through the trees, a few ostriches strut by, and for those trekkers with mega lenses, the elephants across the road obligingly pose in all their enormity. Warthogs, cheetahs, lions, giraffes, and other savanna residents also appear in the trees and grasslands along our driving route, some closer to the road than others. Fortunately, binoculars are provided in the safari vehicle and at the camp, so everyone has a chance to look into the eyes of a wild critter.

In addition to the infinitely more personal experience, the Wild Africa Trek is also a compelling educational opportunity. At least one of our guides is a degreed biologist and both are highly knowledgeable about what we are seeing. While they’re more or less required to stick to the storyline that the trek really does take place in deepest Africa, they will answer occasional questions about the animals, how they got here, how the Disney conservation program works, and other behind-the-scenes questions related to Animal Kingdom, the largest of all of Disney’s parks at 500 acres.

The Wild Africa Trek is pricey to be sure, but it delivers an experience that exceeds the typical fun-and-fast-food theme park experience of most guests, and raises the bar for what such parks can offer. I posted photos of my trek on Facebook, and more than one friend believed I was off in wild Africa on safari.  No, it doesn’t replace a trip to authentic Africa, but for a couple or family, it’s a nice substitute until you can do the real thing.

And there’s an added benefit: A portion of the trek cost goes to the Disney Worldwide Conservation Fund. At the end of the trek, you can choose to have your portion go to either a specific endangered animal or the general fund, a nice touch that lends a greater sense of purpose to what is ultimately a fine way to spend a few hours in Orlando.

 

DETAILS

What: Wild Africa Trek, Disney’s Animal Kingdom

Who:Guests must be at least 48 inches tall, age eight or older, and weigh 45-310 pounds.

When:The trek goes out multiple times each day, with a maximum of 12 participants.

Cost:$189.99 per person regardless of age; tour is not included in Animal Kingdom admission.

Where to stay: Add to the safari ambiance by bunking at the exotic Disney Animal Kingdom Villas, spacious timeshare suites with evocative African-themed decor and African animals steps away from guest room balconies.

Book:  Call 407-WDW-TOUR (407-838-8687) 90 days out; best to book prior to arriving in Orlando, but if there’s room, last-minute bookings can be made.

Need to know:First two hours are away from any rest room facilities; closed-toe shoes required; no purses or backpacks allowed, but locked storage is provided.

The treasures of Campeche

By Bob Schulman

In 1540, when Spanish troops captured the Mayan port of  Ah Kin Pech on the Gulf of Mexico, they found an unexpected treasure: a small, scrawny tree that grew all over the nearby forests – and from which a gorgeous, red-orange dye could be made.

That was a big deal back in Europe, where only the rich could foot the hefty bills for purple capes, red waistcoats and other bright clothes dyed with the juices of rare bugs, exotic plants and the like. Commoners could only afford clothes dyed with cheap, drab materials. Like soot.

Soon, galleon loads of the Kin Pech trees began showing up in Spain, and news that a cheap source of colorful dye had been found blasted across the continent like a cannonball. The sooty set could now dress like the silky set.

All this from a little tree simply called logwood.

Back in Campeche, as the Spanish renamed the city, fortunes were made by everyone from the logwood forests' new owners to the slave brokers who imported laborers to cut the trees. And the town showed it. Campeche's streets, it's said, “were lined with fabulous mansions and churches full of gold and silver and the finest Chinese porcelain.”

The only problem was, all this was a red flag to the pirate fleets prowling the Gulf waters from their hangout a few hundred miles down the coast at Ciudad del Carmen. Over the next century, they raided Campeche so often that it became one of the most frequently sacked spots in the New World.

The solution – although late in coming – was to build a huge, eight-sided wall around the city with a fortress on each corner bristling with cannons. When it was finished in 1704, the wall ran over a mile and a half long. It was six and a half feet thick and almost as high as a three-story building.

The pirates never came back.

Campeche thrived as the second richest city (after Veracruz) in eastern Mexico for another century and a half until the mid-1800s, when European inventors figured out a way to make artificial dyes.

Colonial elegance

So what's the town like today? As you might expect, it's grown a lot – close to a quarter-million people live there – but the downtown area is much like it was hundreds of years ago. More than a thousand mansions, churches, government offices and other buildings have been restored to their colonial elegance along the city's cobbled lanes. What's more, a large section of the city is still framed by the old wall and its gun-studded bastions.

Besides its historical attractions, Campeche offers some of the best bargains in the country. For example, rooms in the city's tourist-class hotels can often be found for less than $75 a night including breakfast. And you'll find stunningly low prices in the handicraft shops around town, especially for woven goods and ceramics.

Beyond that, Campeche is packed with great restaurants (featuring fresh seafood, also at low prices), it's safe to walk around in (even late at night) and it's close (roughly a half-hour drive) to Edzna and other spectacular Mayan ruins out in the jungle.

Until a few years ago, the once-great city of Edzna was one of the lesser known sites of the Mayan empire. That was before actor/director/producer Mel Gibson turned the city into a set (complete with a sacrificial pyramid) for his controversial movie, Apocalypto.

The local folks don't think much of the film's historical accuracy, but they admit it's done wonders for tourism.

Getting, staying there

Jet hops from Mexico City to the Campeche airport take a little over an hour and a half. From there, it's about a 20-minute cab ride to the city.

Visitors have a choice of a dozen or so tourist-class hotels ranging from cozy inns to luxurious five-star properties. At some, modest colonial exteriors give way to luxury interiors, such as in the 15 rooms of Starwood Hotels' Hacienda Puerta Campeche just across the street from the city's historic wall.

 

More info: Visit www.campeche.travel,www.travelyucatan.com/campeche_mexico.php or the Campeche section of the Mexico Tourism Board, www.visitmexico.com.

Hans Christian Andersen: Behind the happy stories

By Robert N. Jenkins

bobjenkinswrites.com     

I am like water. Everything brings me in motion, everything is mirrored in me. This must be part of my nature as a creative writer, and often I have derived pleasure and blessing from it, although often it has been a torment.

- Hans Christian Andersen

ODENSE, Denmark -- It may seem odd that the creator of such beloved fairy tales as The Little Mermaid, The Emperor's New Clothes and The Ugly Duckling could proclaim, at age 50, that he was “often in torment.’’ But scholars know that the stories are aimed at adults as much as children, for they tell of unrequited love, and of being shunned because of physical appearance.

Andersen wrote these stories as a release from that torment.

He wrote, too, for his livelihood, but in 1834, at 29, he applied for a job at the Royal Library "to be freed from the heavy burden of having to write in order to live."

Alas, the Library also rejected him.

But that was 176 years ago, and now the Royal Library proudly displays original manuscripts. And in 2005, as part of the national commemoration of the 200th anniversary of his birth, 30,000 copies of The Ugly Duckling, translated into 10 languages including Turkish and Kurdish, were handed out to foreign visitors.

The birthday celebration included a film festival, stage performances, new displays in the recently enlarged museum here, and more. No one would have dreamt of such things when he was born in Odense, on an island about 85 miles southwest of Copenhagen.

In 1805, this place was a large village of about 5,000. That was big enough to have a poor neighborhood, which is where his parents – he a cobbler, she a washerwoman – lived.

They shared a seven-room house with at least two other families.

When Hans was about 2, the Andersens moved to another house that they shared with just one other family. The Andersens' total living space measured about 11 by 14, divided into two rooms. One room was the kitchen; by the window in the other room, his father worked on shoes.

The youngster would often sit above the rooms in a loft, looking out a window. Legend has it that from ice crystals formed on the window, he drew inspiration for his The Snow Queen.

Hans had no friends his age; he enjoyed the old women who entertained him with stories. They were giving him ideas he would later mold into his fairy tales.

However, the lad pictured himself not as a writer but rather a dancer and singer.

Off to seek his fortune

Hans' father admired Emperor Napoleon and joined the French Army, only to be killed when Hans was 11. Three years later, he boarded a coach to Copenhagen, drawn by the promise of life onstage.

He carried a letter of introduction from a book publisher, addressed to a ballerina in the Royal Ballet. Hans began to dance for her, but he was tall, gangly and inept. The ballerina had him thrown out.

Ultimately, the teenager found work as a singer in large productions and was befriended by a director of the Royal Theater, who thought Hans might have writing talent.

This patron sent him off to a school. But once again, Andersen proved mediocre – he was 24 before he graduated.

He traveled about Europe and soon fell in love with the sister of a friend. But she was already engaged; she wrote Andersen a farewell letter. When he died more than 40 years later, her letter was found in a leather pouch he wore around his neck.

But during his travels, Andersen wrote essays on what he noticed. His writing was well-received, and he was able to meet notable writers such as Victor Hugo and Charles Dickens.

Nonetheless, Andersen never grew wealthy, nor did anyone return his love. There are reports that he cared for certain men as much as for certain women.

He pined for the famous singer Jenny Lind -- known as “the Swedish Nightingale” – but she liked him only as a friend. For her he wrote The Nightingale.

Not just a guest

Because Andersen was adept at reciting his stories, he often was the performing houseguest of the wealthy and of minor nobles. He would gather children around him, and while the adults listened in, he would tell a tale.

All the while Andersen would be spinning a folded piece of paper in one hand while he snipped it with scissors. When he finished his story, he would unfold his paper to reveal astonishing cutouts: windmills, castles, fairies, even -- as displayed in the Hans Christian Andersen museum here – a man hanging from a gallows and a three-dimensional rocking chair.

A pair of his scissors and one of his pens also are on display in the museum. This is actually the fourth version of the museum:

The first was a tiny thing, opened in 1908 in the house where he was born little more than a century earlier. This museum was enlarged with creation of a new building next door, which opened in 1930.

In the early 1970s, a new museum was built. And finally, in anticipation of the bicentennial of his birth, with his worldwide fame now established, a modernization of that museum took place between 2002 and 2004. When it opened, it had five times more display space.

Among its outstanding features is a compelling timeline – a wall of photos and antiques that portray the immense changes in the world during his life, 1805 to 1875. These included the rise and fall of Napoleon I, Karl Marx, Queen Victoria and the spread of the British Empire, the U.S. Civil War, invention of steam engines, the spread of the railroad, the growing Industrial Revolution, and a vast increase in free education.

The acceptance of Andersen’s work can be judged by the fact that despite the surge of science, technology and ever-worsening warfare, his tales of fairies, mermaids and princesses continued to delight generations of readers.

And so the museum includes a large display of these works, as translated into more than 130 languages. He is credited with creating 174 fairy tales, 14 novels and short stories, 12 travel essays and an estimated 800 poems.

Also featured in the museum are several photos of the author taken in the 1860s, when portrait photography was a new art form. Though he possessed an imposingly large nose and pinched face, he thought himself attractive and enjoyed posing for the camera.

He was sought after by photographers because, by then, his genius had been recognized.

But if he had not earlier suffered such rejection -- and torment -- would he have created the stories that have moved people the world over?

Would his home town have created, and recreated, a museum for him that recorded in its first 41 years 1-million visitors – a phenomenal figure considering Odense’s location.

His popularity and the value of the museum continue: In 2005, the year of the bicentennial, the museum recorded more than 185,000 visitors. And now, three times each July day, more than a dozen townsfolk in costume perform a charming musical review of his stories. This free show takes place next to the museum and a tiny lake – occupied by a few ducks and a young woman portraying The Little Mermaid.

The story of Hans Christian Anderson at last has a happy ending.

If you go

The H.C. Andersen Museum nestles in the walkable old town of the otherwise quite-modern Odense. It is about eight blocks from the train station; the trip from Copenhagen takes just 75 minutes, so this is an easy daytrip from the capital.

More info:The English-language web site for all three museums is www.museum.odense.dk/en.aspx.

A rewarding lunch choice in town is the traditional Danish buffet – think excellent fish, cheeses, crusty breads and cold salads – at Den Grimme Aelling, the Ugly Duckling. It is in an ancient building in one of the oldest parts of town. (www.grimme-aelling.dk).

Catch a cab back to town and either return to Copenhagen by train, or spend the night at First Hotel Grand, an old charmer near a lively pedestrian commercial area. (www.firsthotels.com/en/Our-hotels/Denmark/Odense-C).

Photo credit: All images courtesy of VisitOdense, www.visitodense.com

 

 

 

 

East Germany blossoms 20 years after reunification

Story by Linda DuVal
Photos by Rick DuVal

When The Wall came down, we saw rubble remaining from World War II and some ugly gray concrete buildings erected by the Communist regime. That was 1989.

The year after, East and West Germany were officially reunified. Twenty years later, East Germany has blossomed into an inviting destination of modern hotels, fine restaurants, sea-side resorts and restored historic attractions.

Cathedrals have been rebuilt, palaces reconstructed, medieval buildings returned to their historic splendor. Some were only completed in the past few years, but look as if they have been there for centuries.

This brief timeline for its transformation is nothing short of remarkable.

Ancient cities like Dresden, which was firebombed for three days in February 1945, at the end of the war, had not been rebuilt under Russian occupation. But in the past two decades, the city has become the showplace it once was.  It’s hard to tell new buildings from old, so careful was the reconstruction.

“The war destroyed much of Dresden,” says tour guide Cosima Curth. She waves her arm to encompass several blocks of what look like old buildings.

“For many years, there was nothing here. We couldn’t afford to rebuild. Our poorness made us rich, though. The ruins remained, so after Reunification, we could rebuild them.”

What the war didn’t destroy, the Russians did, she says.  “They practiced destruction by neglect.”

Curth, who protested along with other East Germans back then to get The Wall torn down, says growing up in her homeland was not easy.  Raised Catholic, she was ridiculed in school by both peers and teachers. She didn’t get the educational advantages she had earned because she openly practiced her faith. Her “best friend” turned out to be a spy for the state police.

“Things are so different today,” she says. “Religion is not an issue.”

Today, it’s hard to tell East from West. Except, perhaps, that there is more active construction in the East. They’re still making up for lost time.

Dresden

Despite heavy bombing by the Allies, a block-long mural of 24,000 porcelain tiles was miraculously untouched. Although the building that holds the murals was partially destroyed, only 1 percent of the tiles had to be replaced. It depicts 35 rulers of the region, including the revered Augustus the Strong. Augustus was as much admired for his virility as for his wisdom as a ruler. Supposedly, he could lift a grown man with one hand and it’s rumored that he fathered 365 children -- several legitimate.

The Zwinger (pictured at story opening), a complex of buildings surrounding a vast square, was seriously war-damaged. But many of its buildings have been beautifully reconstructed in their original styles. Here, costumed characters perform small plays and dances to delight crowds that gather on fine days.

The complex took 800 years to complete, and its buildings include Romanesque, baroque, rococo and contemporary.

In Dresden, don’t miss the Green Vault, a museum with one of the largest collections of treasures in Europe. Terribly damaged during the war, its contents were confiscated by the occupying Russians, who later returned them. Entire rooms are devoted to nothing but ivory, amber, silver, gold and jewels – including the Dresden Green Diamond (41 carats), the Saxon White Diamond (44 carats) and a spectacular 648-carat sapphire – a gift from Czar Peter I of Russia. The rooms of this museum are themselves jewel boxes to hold all these gems.

Leipzig

Established in the 12th century as a center of trade and commerce, Leipzig, also badly war-damaged, has resurrected many of its stunning buildings, including a city hall that looks like a cathedral.

A bit more bohemian than Dresden, you’ll find absinthe and “goth” bars here along with grand churches.

Don’t miss seeing the Battle of Leipzig monument, the largest single monument in Europe. It marks a historic battle involving 600,000 soldiers and the defeat of Napoleon. Built in 1913 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the battle, it weighs 300,000 tons and is 91 meters (about 300 feet) high.

The Baltic Coast

If you don’t think of Germany as a seaside destination, then you haven’t visited the Baltic Coast. This northern edge of the nation borders the Baltic Sea and has wide, sandy beaches and a faithful following among Germans who vacation here.

In Rostock, one of the most important ports in this region, you’ll find a Hanseatic League city with both medieval and modern architecture, including an unusual brick church and a city hall with seven turrets (mostly rebuilt after Reunification, having been demolished by Allied bombing). Take a short jaunt to Warnemunde on the Warnow River, a popular, quaint resort town.

Next, stop at Zingst, a seaside resort town with a broad beach that invites walking. Early in the morning, don’t be surprised to find a few hearty Germans doffing their robes and diving naked into the surf! Rife with authentic charm, Zingst is a favorite summer getaway for Berliners – who live just a few hours away.

Then head to Stralsund and get a real look at the Baltic up close – at Ozeaneum, a new, modern aquarium that explores the sea life of the Baltic and beyond. It was named European Museum of the Year for 2010.

Finally, take time to visit the island of Usedom and the spa towns that attracted the wealthiest Germans for centuries. Grand mansions and one of Europe’s longest piers make for a great walking tour, or one by horse-drawn wagon.

Berlin

You can’t really visit East Germany without visiting East Berlin. The Wall is gone, except for protected remnants that are now tourist attractions.

Berlin is a big city and, like New York or London, folks there are more brusque than in the small towns. To get oriented, take a city bus tour, which shows the highlights of both East and West, including the Reichstag (the historic German parliament building), which was finally restored after Reunification and the Charlottenburg Schoss, a grand palace built for a Prussian empress.

Especially visit the magnificent 18th century Brandenburg Gate, once the symbol of divided Germany and now a symbol of peace and Reunification. Seriously damaged in the war, it was finally fully restored in 2002.

Checkpoint Charlie is another reminder of the Cold War – today a tourist attraction where faux soldiers pose for photos for a couple of euros.

Take advantage of the proximity to do a day trip to Potsdam. See the church where Hitler assumed power, the headquarters of the KGB, the KGB prison where American pilot Gary Powers spent some time, and visit Sanssouci, an imperial palace so grand even the Soviets maintained it as a tourist attraction.

History echoes through every step you take on the cobblestones of East Germany. Every place you visit harbors reminders of war, like the still-visible writing on the side of a church in Dresden that says: Building checked. No bombs.

Each town, church or castle reminds us of the destruction of war and the ability of the human spirit to overcome it. Given time.

Cover photo courtesy of Dresden Marketing GmbH.

Linda DuVal is a freelance writer and former travel editor for The Gazette  in Colorado Springs, Colo.

Argh: Pirates rule the Caribbean

By Bob Schulman

The music swells, the pirates – the good guys in the movie – let out a great hurrah and Captain Blood (Errol Flynn) gives us a boyishly handsome grin as his guns blast an enemy galleon into toothpicks.

I've seen Michael Curtiz' old movie Captain Blood maybe a dozen times, and if there'd been a pirate recruiting desk anywhere close, I'd have signed on in a heartbeat.

More recently, Johnny Depp stoked me up with his series of widescreen swashbucklers, Pirates of the Caribbean. Ditto for the late Michael Crichton's new page-flipper, Pirate Latitudes, complete with the motliest of motley crews, an Errol Flynn-ish buccaneer captain and his heroic rescue of a fair damsel in distress (the Jamaican governor's daughter).

I almost felt like slipping on an eyepatch and saying “argh.”

Maybe there's a little Captain Blood in all of us, just itching to feel the salt air slapping us in the face as we weigh anchor for yet another adventure on the Spanish Main.

Ironically, the bloody Main runs through some of the most gorgeous islands on the planet. Take the U.S. Virgin Islands – principally St. Thomas, St. Croix and St. John – about 1,000 miles southeast of Miami. They were once a sort of rest and relaxation haven for brigands of the likes of Bluebeard, Blackbeard, Sir Francis Drake, Henry Morgan and Captain Kidd.

The legacy of the scofflaws' heyday of the 1600s and 1700s can be seen around the three islands today at beaches and coves named after their adventures and in the names of hotels, bars and restaurants. For example, you can tee off on a championship golf course at the Buccaneer Resort on St. Croix. You can chow down at “Morgan’s Mango” on St. John. You can take a “Pirate Cruise” around the bay of St. Thomas. And you can finish off the day with a wickedly potent “Swashbuckler” cocktail at bars all over the islands.

Two of the most popular tourist sites on St. Thomas are the stone, tower-like castles of Edward Teach, called Blackbeard, and of a storied rascal known only as Bluebeard. Perched on hilltops overlooking the harbor, both castles have been converted to hotel-restaurants complete with bars and swimming pools.

At Blackbeard’s, you’ll hear tales of how local governors gave him safe harbor in return for a split of his loot. Another yarn tells about the 14 wives he was supposed to have had – all at the same time. Why so many? Because they didn’t last too long. His favorite after-dinner entertainment, it's said, was to encourage the ladies to dance by firing his pistol at their feet. And he had a terrible aim.

Bluebeard – presumably a better shot – settled for a mere eight wives. Stories say his prize catch was island socialite Mary Mercedita, who wasn’t aware that she was sharing his favors. One day, while hubby was off plundering, she opened his trunk and found papers revealing that she had seven co-wives. That would never do, especially for a socialite. So she got rid of the others by inviting them to tea – laced with poison.

Convicted of murder, Mary was sentenced to be burned at the stake. But just in the nick of time, the story goes, Bluebeard showed up and rescued her. They sailed away, never to be seen again on St. Thomas.

Yo ho’s and rum

Legend has it Bluebeard turned up later (without Mary) on an island today called Dead Chest in the nearby British Virgin Islands. Here, after his men buried a big load of treasure, he is supposed to have marooned them with only a sword and some booze. Hence, the song, “Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.”

Back on the U.S. Virgins you'll find a different kind of booty up for grabs these days: duty-free shopping bargains, sought by millions of tourists a year, many from cruise ships regularly seen packing the bays of St. Thomas and St. Croix.

Wall-to-wall shops lining the islands' cobbled lanes offer a breathtaking array of everything from Swiss watches to exotic liquors. Best buys include top-name perfumes, designer clothes and hand bags, cameras, jewelry, china and fine crystal – at prices way below what you’d pay back home.

 

You can bring back $1,600 worth of purchases per person without having to pay U.S. customs taxes.

Staying  there:The U.S. Virgins list some 100 lodging spots with tourist-class accommodations including two dozen large resort hotels. Prices vary by season.

More information: Check out the U.S. Virgin Islands Department of Tourism's site, www.visitusvi.com.

Cover photo by Rich Grant.

Photo of the pirate ship was taken at the exhibition, “Real Pirates: The Untold Story of the Wydah from Slave Ship to Pirate Ship.” It is on display at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science through Aug. 21, 2011.

Beach Bites

By Nancy Clark

A beach pretty much anywhere has always been my ideal of a vacation, particularly coming from a land-locked state like Colorado. The sun calls; I answer.

The lure of the beach doesn’t diminish over a lifetime apparently when you consider the Harris Poll (August 2007) indicating that Hawaii is the one state that boomers prefer if not their home state for retirement. One of the pluses is the monotonously perfect weather: 82 – 86ᵒ F as reported by the daily Maui Time newspaper all throughout May. (The annual average is a sweater-less 75ᵒ.) The downside, according to Topretirements.com is the high cost of living—the average home is typically three times more expensive than on the mainland.

So are the drinks.

Fifteen dollars is the going rate for a Mai Tai’s at your fanciest stops on the island. Yet, the curated view alone is worth the price of admission. The calories are just a temporary inconvenience and the keepsake pastel-colored paper umbrellas not weighty enough to cause a bag to top out over 50 pounds on your return flight home, no matter how many one tips back

From the day Longhi’s opened on Front Street in Lahaina Town in 1976, founder Bob Longhi insisted that the chairs be comfortable. He is reputed to have outspent other restaurateurs on seating, a decision he chalked up to sustaining Longhi’s over the decades while other dining establishments closed their doors. The window shutters on this quaint frame building are thrown wide open—purely decorative in Maui’s mild temperatures—to a fiery setting sun, the perfect complement to the Mussels Marinara. Culinary arts, the trademark of Longhi’s, is evident in  proprietary cookbooks for sale in the lobby including Gabriele Longhi's Recipe Portfolioand Longhi’s: Recipes and Reflections From Maui’s Most Opinionated Restaurateur personally signed by Bob.

Kimo’s on Front Street in Lahaina Town occupies prime real estate on the water. From the lanai overlooking a rocky beach below, waves beat to a regular tempo, every fourth or fifth splashing over the railing to the delight of the younger set in tow. The tiki torches glow in the half-moon night and the biggest decision of the day is whether to opt for a Kimo’s Mai Tai (only $8) or a Pina Colada ($7.75). Better yet, a Gilligan’s Ginger Martini  ($9), ocean vodka made in Hawaii, ginger liqueur and a dash of sugar syrup. The red sky at night portends sailor’s delight the next day, and Maui weather doesn’t disappoint.

Cheeseburger In Paradise on Front Street in Lahaina is what it is. Paradise on a bun served retro wrapped in paper. The menu claims: Serving Aloha every day since 1989, and promotes the five-napkin burgers. At $8.95 - $16.95, these burgers the best bargain on the beach. Tourists return to this two tiered frame structure year after year because of the memories and the flavor. The menu is priced for families and younger people on a comparative budget. Overheard: I like it here because I can order a Bud beer instead of a fancy umbrella drink and not feel guilty that I’m shortchanging the cultural experience.

Head up Hwy. 30 a few minutes toward Ka’anapali, the passenger on this journey gets the catbird seat with a view of Maui volcano Haleakala, an active shield volcano. The volcano’s top is perpetually frosted in high cumulus. You can’t miss the turnoff to Whalers Village (yes, there is no apostrophe) smack in the center of Hotel Row. Whalers is the go-to destination for high-end shopping (Coach and Louis Vuitton) along with the requisite scrimshaw. Women’s and men’s apparel, home furnishings, jewelry—you name it, it’s found in these 65 top shelf boutiques. Whalers Village is also home to Leilani’s On The Beach, where it’s hard to tell if the meal trumps the view or vice versa: both Molokai (to the left) and Lanai (to the right) loom in the water plane ahead. The Beachside Grill features pupus (that’s appetizers, folks) and cocktails plus closer-than-a-concert sightings of the likes of Selena Gomez and Justin Beiber in May.

Fifteen minutes further on Highway 30 is the rather benign turnoff for D.T. Flemming’s Beach on the left. The tight road that curls down to the beach and opens up to an official back parking lot at the hem of The Ritz-Carlton.  High up the hill, the luxury hotel 463 rooms large is carved out of a century-old pineapple plantation and extends down the coastline five bays and three white sand beaches. It’s distinguished by dramatic lava peninsulas and the chips at the resort’s Beach House Restaurant.  Every day until 3 p.m. the Beach House serves the world’s best homemade tortilla chips with a side of guacamole and red salsa distinguished by a hint of sweet chili. This cloth napkin venue is no ordinary beach lunch joint. Cloth napkins and a stone wall separate the venue from the common folk surfing on the horizon.

Hightailing it back to the airport at the close of my Maui stay, a must see is Mama’s fish house off the Hana Highway, voted Top Restaurant in the US Value Awards 2010 and the single recommendation I’ve brought with me to the island. Mama’s is a stone’s throw from Haiku—a community, not the eponymous Japanese poetry. And as the story goes, the young Christenson family put down anchor here when sailing across the South Pacific in the 1950s, opening the restaurant a decade later.

Famous for its Old Polynesia fare, the genuine personal touch of Mama’s is not lost on any guest. Even the night’s menu notes the fisherman of the day’s catch—the Lehi caught by Raymond Otsubo and the deep-water Ahi caught by Amando Baula, among others. The Choppino is irresistible at any price. The menu’s turf items are in high demand and the amuse-bouche at the front end of every dinner service is indicative of the personable quality of this place and the wait staff. Where other restaurants or hotel lobbies might smack of a little too much bamboo, Mama’s is authentic. Collected, not decorated, slow paddle fans overhead and rare oriental rugs underfoot give Mama’s a gracious estate sensibility to match the tab.  

I push away from the table too sated to sign up for dessert. Four days 6 pounds heavier, Maui will be remembered in my Trip Tik as a food destination with a little beach on the side.

SOUND BYTES ON MAUI FAQs

Like most ports worldwide, this one was the centerpiece of life. From 1843 to 1860, at the height of the whaling era, Lahaina Town is reported to have attracted more than 400 ships in a single season. Sailors that stayed on for weeks, not just days, spawning a trifecta of troubles for the town: booze, gambling and prostitution. Some 170 years later, the streets are tame by comparison and the whaling influence is limited to humpback whale watching December through May. 

Overall, what the island of Maui lacks in remarkable architecture Lahaina makes up for—the most impressive being the Lahaina Courthouse, constructed on Lahaina’s waterfront in 1859 using materials recovered from King Kamehameha III's palace that had been destroyed by winds the year prior. The foundation of the palace known as Hale Piula are like scars on the lawn separating the restored Courthouse and the infamous birthing rock, a sacred seat at the water’s edge where Hawaiian women of royal lineage would go to give birth. Kamehameha's descendants reigned until 1872, followed by others including Queen Lilioukalani who was overthrown in 1893. One year later, the Republic of Hawaii was formed. The United States annexed Hawaii in 1898 and pronounced it a territory in 1900. Hawaii became the 50^th U.S. state in 1959.

A trip around the world (thanks to Walt Disney)

A photo essay by Rich Grant

www.walkinganddrinkingbeer.com

Did you know you can walk from Canada to Mexico – the long way around -- in an hour or so? You can, but few people do it. Most stop to shop or just take in the sights along the way at countries like Japan, Germany and Morocco. The flags of all these nations (and many more) fly over colorful pavilions rimming a mile-long walkway around a lagoon at Walt Disney's Epcot Park, near Orlando.

You can eat and drink your way around the world, too. Each country features regional beer, wine and food. From tequila bars to French cafes, British pubs to German beer halls, you can raise a glass and offer a toast in authentic settings. Can't finish that pint of Guinness? No worries. Epcot's liberal drinking policy allows you to take it with you, sipping a stout as you stroll through the back alleys of Tangiers, or sit by a waterfall in Norway.

I should mention that the lagoon walk is just one of dozens of “wow” attractions peppering Epcot's 300-acre site, one of four major theme parks poking up out of a 47-square-mile fantasyland known as Walt Disney World (WDW for short).

To give you an idea of how big this place is, and how much there is to see and do there, some guides to WDW run over 275 pages. For more info on the fun and thrills awaiting – as they say – kids of all ages (including boomers), visit

www.waltdisneyworld.com.

As WDW PR director Rick Sylvain is fond of saying, “It all started with a mouse.”

Todos Santos: A sweet story

By Bob Schulman

The early 1700s were busy times for the Jesuit missionaries bringing Christianity to western Mexico's Baja Peninsula (whether the natives wanted it or not). By 1721, the padres were saving souls at a dozen missions on the lower Baja including a big one at La Paz on the Sea of Cortes.

They built the next one three years later at a sort of mini-Eden called Todos Santos (All Saints) on the Pacific side of the peninsula. The mission of the new mission – the Jesuits named it Santa Rosa de las Palmas – was to supply the one at La Paz.

What the larger mission mainly needed was fresh water. And Todos Santos had plenty of it, having been blessed with two natural springs gushing crystal-clear water from the nearby mountains. La Paz was also short on things to eat, like fruits and vegetables, and on treats such as wine and sugar. Thanks to the two springs, Todos Santos had irrigated farms that could supply all that, too.

Other foreigners soon took notice of the oasis at Todos Santos. For instance, sugar merchants became familiar figures at the mission. Business was booming.

But things weren't going so well at some of the other missions. After centuries of worshiping lots of gods, not all of the natives were eagerly embracing the concept of a single deity. So the padres metered out punishment to help them see the light, which in turn prompted rebellions, mission burnings and even disappearing padres.

Todos Santos lost one of its best customers when – sparked in part by a Jesuit edict banning the local Indians' traditional practice of polygamy – the natives booted out the bringers of Christianity to La Paz.

Still, the springs of Todos Santos kept gushing, and its farms kept producing. Especially sugar cane. Even when more rebellions drove the padres to shift their soul-saving to the northern part of the Baja, the demand for Todos Santos' sugar grew and grew.

Fast forward to the end of the 19th century, and Todos Santos is the sugar cane capital of the entire Baja with no less than eight mills cranking out the sweet stuff.

The good old days lasted until 1950, when – in the midst of dropping prices for sugar after World War II – the largest of the two springs dried up. The mills began closing, and by 1955 the city was out of the sugar business.

A few decades later, when super-resorts started popping up around Mexico, including one at Cabo San Lucas at the tip of the Baja 50 miles south, the unspoiled charm of Todos Santos began luring the likes of artists, sculptors, painters and poets there.

As if to welcome the newcomers, the large freshwater spring came back to life in 1981.

What's the town like today? Think of a sleepy Mexican farming and fishing village with perhaps 5,000 local folks. But look closer, and you'll spot a number of  things that tell you this is no ordinary village. First, rubbing elbows with the locals are 1,000 expats, mostly American and Canadian, many of whom can be seen painting, weaving, making jewelry, spinning pottery wheels and otherwise creating gorgeous objects d'art. Second, the town's cobbled lanes are dotted with modest (but not inexpensive) galleries selling all this.

And who's buying those treasures? Tourists, mainly hopping off dozens of tour buses on day-trips from the huge resort at Cabo San Lucas. Others drive to Todos Santos in rental cars from the resort or all the way from La Paz.

Look even closer, and you'll notice several very un-little-village-like gourmet restaurants around town. One is the famous Cafe Santa Fe, written up in dozens of magazines for its superb Italian dishes. Another is known for its Asian fusion menu.

Also unlike most run-of-the-mill villages,Todos Santos has about a dozen boutique inns and hotels, all told with around 250 rooms. One, the Hotel California, bills its accommodations as “11 sumptuously appointed, wildly imaginable rooms and suites.” Once promoted as the hotel in the Eagles' 1976 hit song, “Hotel California” (lead singer Don Henley is said to have denied it), the property is close to the town's main shopping area and to what passes for the city's nightlife.

All in all, most people who get a chance to sample Todos Santos' old-world charm and its new-world paintings and carvings agree, it's still a sweet little town.

More info: Visit www.todossantos.cc and www.hotelcaliforniabaja.com.

Special report from Jordan, Part 1

Story and photos by Bob Schulman

If you've come to Jordan to see the country's three main showstoppers – Petra, the Dead Sea and the site of Jesus Christ's baptism – there's a big surprise in store for you. Visitors quickly find the whole country is an outdoor history  museum.

The other jaw-droppers start soon after you get off the plane at Queen Alia International Airport at Amman, Jordan's capital. Once named Philadelphia (after an Egyptian conqueror), it's a modern city of 1.5 million people, overlooked by a hill full of temples and shrines dating back to the Bronze Age.

From there, most of the country's major historical sites – places where you can walk in the footsteps of everyone from biblical luminaries such as Abraham, Moses, Aaron, Joshua, Lot, Ruth and Elijah to those of Roman emperors, Persian kings, crusader knights and the Arab army of T.E. Lawrence – are within a 230-mile-long stretch of real estate. It starts a little north of Amman and runs down the western edge of the country to the border with Saudi Arabia.

What's more, many of the tourism hot spots are less than an hour away from the capital. For instance, just 30 miles north of Amman is a jump back in time to Imperial Rome in the sprawling ruins of Jerash. You'll give your camera a workout snapping the city's temples, arches, theaters and colonnaded streets where Roman legions once paraded before 30,000 cheering townsfolk.

The road west of Amman is dotted with buses heading to one of the top Christian religious sites in the world: the place where John the Baptist is believed to have baptized Jesus Christ. Located along the Jordan River on the border with Israel (the two countries have a peace treaty), the complex of churches, baptismal pools, monastic caves and riverside steps is named “Bethany Beyond the Jordan,” from biblical writings.

According to Rustom Mkhjian, assistant director of Jordan's Baptism Site Commission, arrangements can be made for personal or group baptisms on the site for a small fee plus charges for locally available clerics of different denominations. For more information visit www.baptismsite.com.

Charge up your camera battery for a trio of eye-poppers starting 20 miles southwest of Amman. First up is Madaba, a biblical site today best known for its numerous churches from different historical periods. Among photo ops there is the Greek Orthodox Church of St. George, its floor covered by a huge sixth century A.D. mosaic map of the Holy Land.

A short drive away is Mt. Nebo – the spot where Moses first saw The Promised Land. At the top of the mountain, imagine yourself standing in Moses' sandals as he looked out on the panorama of the Jordan River Valley and across the river to the nearby city of Jericho. On clear days, you can see as far as Jerusalem and sometimes even Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean.

Hop back in your car or tour bus for a quick ride to the region's third big attraction, the Dead Sea. The lowest point on earth (1,312 feet below sea level), the sea not only edges spectacular landscapes but also top-rated health and wellness resorts. It's one of the leading contenders in the New Seven Wonders of Nature competition. Winners of the global poll will be announced Nov. 11, 2011.

From there, the highway runs through stretches of flatlands peppered with Bedouin tents, biosphere reserves, moonscape-like deserts and rugged mountain ranges. It ends at the Jordanian seaport of Aqaba a few miles from the border with Saudi Arabia.

All told, it's a drive of only four hours from Amman to Aqaba, but few tourists make the trip in a single day. Many are on week-long guided tours, while others  opt to stay over at hotels or inns near dozens of historical and religious sites, at spas along the Dead Sea and in mountain resorts. Another option: an overnight stay in a Bedouin tent in the desert.

And – about three hours from Amman -- just about everyone spends a day or a couple of days exploring the country's crown tourism jewel at the ancient city of Petra (see Part 2 of this report).

The road continues south from Petra for another 70 miles to Aqaba. Along the way you can take jeep or camel rides across the sands of the Wadi Rum, a long stretch of desert edged by monolithic rockscapes. Bumping over the dunes, it's easy to conjure up a picture of Peter O'Toole leading thousands of Arab tribesmen across this desert to capture the World War I Turkish stronghold of Aqaba in the movie Lawrence of Arabia.

Getting there: Visitors from North America can fly nonstop to Jordan on flights operated by Royal Jordanian Airlines from gateways at Chicago-O'Hare, Montreal and New York-JFK, on the latter route a trip of a little under 12 hours. Delta also flies nonstop from JFK.

Staying there: The country offers a total of some 13,600 tourist-class hotel rooms (rated 3 to 5 stars) including hefty numbers in Amman, Petra, Aqaba and along the Dead Sea. Among popular properties are the Four Seasons in Amman, the Evason Ma'in Hot Springs & Six Senses Spa outside Madaba, the Feynan Eco-Lodge in the mountains north of Petra, Moevenpick hotels in Petra and on the Dead Sea, and the Intercontinental and the Kempinski in Aqaba.

More info: Visit the Jordan Tourism Board at www.visitjordan.com.

Special report from Jordan, Part 2 (Petra)

By Bob Schulman

If you were surprised by the huge number of biblical and historical sites around the country – just a few of which have been named in this story – you're in for a real stunner at Petra. “Many tourists think the cliffside 'Treasury' building they've seen so often on travel posters and in movies such asIndiana Jones and the Last Crusade is the only thing that's there,” says tour guide Mahmoud Iwaissi. “True, there's nothing else quite like (that building) in the world, but it's only the start of the thrills waiting for them at Petra.”

Iwassi notes the historic site is one of the Seven New Wonders of the World and attracts more than 900,000 visitors a year.

Some history:Roughly 2,500 years ago, Nabataean nomads decided to settle down in what's now known as Petra, most likely when they found the place was easy to defend, thanks to a labyrinth of steep canyon walls, and was blessed with  lots of water. Over time, the city became a hub for caravans traveling on trade routes linking China, India and southern Arabia with Egypt, Syria, Greece and Rome.

In exchange for protection, water and a time-out for rest and relaxation, the caravans paid taxes to the Nabataeans, making Petra one of the wealthiest cities of the ancient world. The good times lasted until the first century B.C., when the city fell to Roman legions and later became part of the Roman province of Arabia.

Whatever you've seen or heard about Petra, nothing really prepares you for the immense size of the city – around four square miles, mostly not excavated yet – and the 800 structures there, from rock-cut tombs to churches, temples and baths to a 3,000-seat amphitheater. And if you're up to climbing 900 stairs, a towering monastery awaits you atop the cliffs.

Put on your walking shoes and slip a fresh memory card in your camera before entering the complex for a mile-long trek through the “Siq” walkway to the treasury building. And then another trek of almost a mile to the end of the site.

Visitors who can't handle walks that long can opt for rides on donkeys, camels or horses or in horse-driven carriages – all offered at varying prices depending on your haggling skills.

Perhaps taking a tip from the old-time Nabataean taxes, Jordan today charges 50 dinars (US$70) for a day in Petra for visitors who spent at least a night in the country. If you didn't, you'll need to shell out a whopping 90 dinars (US$127) to get in.

Staying there: Visitors who'd like to stay over in the area have a choice of a half-dozen tourist-class hotels in the modern-day city of Petra adjoining the entrance to old-time Petra. Recommended properties include the upscale, 183-room Moevenpick.

Photos by Bob Schulman unless otherwise noted.

Special report from Jordan, Part 3 (Desert Castles)

Story and photos by Christine Loomis

They aren’t really castles. Nineteenth-century archaeologists dubbed them Desert Castles for lack of a better term. There may be a fortress among the handful of buildings, but most were “country estates,” built in the 700s by caliphs of the powerful Umayyad Dynasty. Here the caliphs could rest from travel, do business, or entertain away from prying (religious) eyes. Yet these ancient structures rising out of Jordan’s stark eastern desert evoke the romance of castles, providing a stone-edged view into the past and historical context that make what they’re called unimportant.

Except as “castles” they may more easily draw tourists to this relatively unvisited region less than 200 miles from Jordan’s northeastern border with Iraq. Three, in particular, are on major roads, close enough to Amman and each other to be easily visited in a day.

Qasr Kharaneh (also Harraneh or Kharana, depending on your source) looks most like a fortress but likely served as a way station on eastern roads connecting Amman with points east. Its maze of cool, dark rooms surrounding a compact courtyard even today offers respite from the searing desert heat. Graceful arches to nowhere and narrow passageways beckon visitors to explore and imagine what life was like here long ago.

A short drive away, Qasr Amra is a visual wonder, its vivid frescoes in stark relief to the relentless monotone of the surrounding landscape. This small bathhouse is what remains of a larger complex where the caliphs apparently sought earthly pleasures. The frescoes, depicting cupids, hunters, animals, and assorted naked women, are so beautifully preserved it’s easy to become lost in the timeless stories they tell.

Qasr Azraq is arguably the least visually appealing. Instead of the reds and golds of sunlit sandstone, Azraq is a ruin of forbidding gray basalt. But its history is colorful. There has been a fort here since Roman times, evolving over centuries until Lawrence of Arabia commandeered it for his headquarters in 1917. Features like somewhat frightening “steps” built into walls and places to climb and wander, along with a lovely garden near the entrance, make Azraq well worth visiting.

The surrounding city, an ancient natural oasis with wetlands currently being restored by the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RSCN), is one of the few places in this region with tourist accommodations. Azraq Lodge, RSCN’s eco hotel, is a top option (www.rscn.org.jo).

The Castles
Closest to Amman :Kharaneh, Amra, Azraq, Hallabat
Off the "Desert Castle Loop" but still accessible: Mushatta
Accessible only via 4-wheel drive and a guide: Tuba, Burqu

Palawan, Philippines primeval

Story and photos by Ted Alan Stedman

Catching my first glimpse of Palawan from the air, I began to understand why the province bills itself the “Last Ecological Frontier” of the Philippines. The long, narrow, jungle-clad island looks verdant and primeval, jutting from the Sulu Sea with a mountainous backbone cloaked in mist and sliced by intermittent waterfalls. Even from 23,000 feet, the main island and its orbiting islet spheres seem enormous. The archipelago stretches 280 miles from the Mindoro Straight south to the tip of Borneo, and as the plane banked on its approach I saw a constellation of emerald isles laced by tourmaline coral reefs sprawling horizon to horizon.

Barely an hour’s flight from the Manila megalopolis, I touched down in hot, humid Puerto Princesa. Located mid-island, this is Palawan’s only sizable town at about 250,000 residents. It’s surprisingly prim considering it’s literally carved from the relentless jungle. The main street bustles with scooters and townsfolk, small stores and markets, a handful of hotels and restaurants. It’s agreeable enough, but this countrified island capital is essentially relegated to a traveler’s gateway to outlying excursions – the diving, boating, nature hiking and idyllic island lounging Palawan is known for.

My first destination was offshore at Dos Palmas Island Resort, reached by a one-hour ferry transit into glassy Hondo Bay. En route I met resort staffer Ivan Lim, who explained what I’d already surmised: “In Palawan, we have a love affair with nature and are very strict about maintaining our ecological values,” he stated proudly.

Case in point is the Palawan Logging ban, passed in 1992 not because plundering was no longer profitable, but to be taken seriously as an eco destination the island had to clean up its act. It’s serious enough that the same eco ethos has taken root in town. Puerto Princesa’s Operation Cleanliness program has won international awards for being the cleanest, greenest city in the country. “Under the city’s anti-litter laws, a third offense carries a $1,000 fine plus two months in prison. That’s one reason why we have such clean streets,” Lim added.

Modern-day sensibilities like this are a far cry from Palawan’s untamed past. With a 1,200-mile coastline bounded by the South China Sea to the west and the Sulu Sea to the east, the island lies on the old Chinese and Spanish trade routes and was a refuge of pirates and the scene of World War II atrocities. It was famous for its old growth hardwood forests of mahogany, narra and amagong, all prized for furniture and recklessly pillaged for decades. These spoils, including incredible fisheries and other natural bounties, drew generations of migrants from throughout Asia, making today’s Palawan a melting pot of 81 ethnic groups.

Several indigenous tribes are still intact, like the Tau’t Bato (“people of rock”) who live in the caves of remote southern Palawan. This no-man’s land has more in common with neighboring Borneo than the distant Philippine mainland, and is so isolated, so rugged that an offshoot tribe of the Bato wasn’t “discovered” until 1997.

My stay at Dos Palmas Resort wasn’t nearly as rugged. The small private island is among 13 others in the bay, and perhaps the most opulent of all with modern cottages and suites (some built over the water) decked with amenities and, thankfully, robust A.C. Being off the grid has spawned some original island ingenuity here. The resort has designated a chunk of the island as the Dos Palmas Eco Zone, where environmental programs, sustainable gardens and facilities that produce power and potable water keep guests content. And content I was, whether strolling through stately coconut palm groves, dipping in the pristine freshwater pool or imbibing at the elegant outdoor bar.

Being a bubble blower, I took advantage of the dive shop and spent a few days exploring shallow reefs not more than a five-minute boat ride from the resort’s pier. Visibility was over 120 feet, so clear it was like swimming through air. Stingrays, seahorses, tuna, a kaleidoscopic collection of reef fish, along with all shapes and colors of coral, amounted to an underwater safari. My favorite site was Helen’s Gardens, named after a local woman who helped educate over-zealous fishermen about preserving the beautiful reefs.

There’s an unmistakable feel to Palawan, and just as the brochures proclaim, you get the sense you’re on the edge of a vast frontier. At 6,575 square miles and with 1,780 islands, it’s the largest of the Philippines’ 80 provinces and has the highest concentration of islands while having the country’s lowest population density, roughly 641,000. Thumb through most any guidebook and the references to Palawan are the same: “Thinly populated,” “hundreds of uninhabited islands,” and “few roads with little to no services.”

Back in Puerto Princesa, I put this last claim to test when I embarked with a private driver on a marathon overland crossing to the famed Bacuit Archipelago and the El Nido Marine Reserve in Palawan’s northern reaches. But first things first. A couple hours from town was Palawan’s signature attraction that any self-respecting traveler couldn’t miss: a guided boat journey into the Puerto Princesa Subterranean River, a UNESCO World Heritage Site eons in the making.

The greatest part of this adventure isn’t cruising inside the subterranean spectacle. No, that would be the 20-minute ocean transit from the village of Sabang on the roily South China Sea. Along with a few South Korean tourists, I hopped a wet seat on an overgrown Philippine banca boat – basically a huge dugout with spindly bamboo outriggers and an oversized lawn mower engine – and we launched from the beach. Remember the wall of waves Tom Hanks crested during his island escape in the movie Castaway? That was practically what we faced during our escape.

The limestone cavern mouth of the Subterranean River looks more like a placid lagoon than a cave-carving river. But once inside you see a rare spectacle that’s taken thousands of years to sculpt. On small electric motorized dugouts, our little flotilla journeyed in about three river miles, listening to our guide point out geologic features resembling natural gargoyles while bats strafed our heads. At the furthest point we turned off our search lights and experienced absolute darkness while dripping water rained over us and the screeches of bats echoed into the void. It’s a creepy place, but at the same time remarkable in a Jules Verne-Journey to the Center of the Earthkind of way.

From Sabang I traveled the rest of the day and through the night to reach the village of El Nido. It’s a rollicking drive negotiating minefields of potholes and deep puddles, ravines and small landslides. The thick rainforest is occasionally interrupted by towering white limestone cliffs sprouting like jagged sentinels above the jungle. What few clearings I saw were transformed into liquified rice paddies with attendant kalabaw, Philippine water buffalo.

When we passed through hamlets I saw bronzed children playing au naturalewhile adults fussed with their daily chores. When night fell, the cooling landscape became an inkwell in which electricity and lights were virtually nonexistent. The only illumination through this rural wilderness was the golden glow of cooking fires and lanterns emanating from thatched bamboo homes perched on poles. It was as if time had stood still here.

Bacuit Bay and the islands of El Nido are arguably the most stunning area in the Philippines, reminiscent of southern Thailand’s Phi Phi area. Perpendicular limestone precipices crown most islands, seducing you with their paper-white sand beaches and lazy coconut palms arching over the bluest of water. The sleepy seaside village of El Nido is the launching pad into the protected marine reserve, where I spent several luxuriant days diving, kayaking, beach combing and fulfilling a near castaway fantasy (with perks) at El Nido Resort on Miniloc Island.

Water is the central theme in El Nido, and I racked up a dozen phenomenal dives  near surrounding islets prowled by fish large and small. But you don’t have to be a diver to appreciate this water world. From the plush resort’s pier, guests snorkeled and tossed morsels of bread while the water erupted in a feeding frenzy of hundreds of colorful, and quite benign, tropical fish. Beach lounging, spa pampering, buffets beyond belief are all on the menu. But in my mind, the best offering was a half-day of sea kayaking on the island’s backside, where Big Lagoon and Small Lagoon awaited. 

These are two of the most iconic, photographed natural sites in all the Philippines – immense turquoise-colored lagoons surrounded by steep cliffs with flowering botanicals, and alive with birds and monkeys. With my guide we paddled over the most gorgeous colored waters I’d ever seen, glowing with every imaginable hue of blue and green. Fish the color of rainbows darted beneath us while long-tailed macaque monkeys and hornbill birds shouted at us from above.

As we reveled in our surroundings, my guide talked about nature and ecology. “You can see why Palawan is often called the ‘Last Ecological Frontier’ of the Philippines,” he said.

Yes, I nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

INFO TO GO

California-based Wilderness Travel (www.wildernesstravel.com) offers 13-day guided snorkeling and kayaking adventures on Palawan. Philippines-based Lakbay Pilipinas (www.lakbaypilipinas.com) offers a three-day Palawan package that includes the Subterranean River National Park and Puerto Princesa. The company also books connecting flights from Manila. For more information on the Philippines, visit  www.experiencephilippines.ph. For detailed information on Palawan, visit www.palawan.ws.

 

 

 

 

 

A visit to Taipei’s ‘Meeting Place of the Gods’

Story and photos by Dawna L. Robertson

Was it my blonde hair or my doe-eyed look of bewilderment that tipped her off?  Regardless, hearing a stranger say "I will help you...follow me," was as sweet to my ears as the sound of the chimes twinkling in the breeze.

A temple newbie, I obediently tagged along attempting to mirror my new mentor's moves as we maneuvered through the smoke-shrouded chambers of Taipei's colorful Lungshan Temple.

Originally constructed in the 18th century as a temple for Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, Lungshan welcomed more than a hundred other deities as new settlers transported their local gods when migrating from Mainland China's Fujian Province. Matsu, the Goddess of the Sea, and Kuan Kung, the God of War, are the most prominent among these.

Often referred to as the "meeting place of the gods," the 272-year-old sacred shrine has seen tough times. Yet, it always bounced back. It was resurrected after being leveled by an earthquake in 1815, and damaged by both an 1865 typhoon and wayward Allied bomb during World War II.

Time has been gentle since the edifice's last restoration in 1957. Kuan Yin survived each devastation, as if to show the world that it is a place where kindness ultimately prevails.

Unloading a riot of ornate decor, the temple's Ching-dynasty style architecture had my head spinning with its ceramic dragons, detailed woodcarvings, exquisite bronze work and stone sculptures. And no doubt the burning incense intensified that condition.

Following my temple tutor from one deity to the next, I was amazed at the calmness in a setting that was buzzing with worshippers chanting, bowing and shuffling about. Lungshan is typically packed with a large crowd offering incense, fruit and spirit money to the multi-denominational deities. And on this particular day at the end of Chinese New Year, the activity was amplified.

As we jousted for position around a huge yellow lantern with our joss sticks in hand, I prayed that the stranger's goodwill was more than a random courtesy. And it proved to be. This was just a taste of the warmth and hospitality I encountered throughout my eight-day sojourn on "Ilha Formosa," the beautiful island of Taiwan.

More info:Visit the Taiwan Tourism Bureau at eng.taiwan.net.tw.

Tune in: Tianguis 2011

By Patricia Alisau

Andre Agassi may be the next ambassador for Mexico tourism, or so it seemed at the country’s annual travel trade show in Acapulco. The world-famous tennis legend gave a presentation on “How to be a Winner” as a prelude to the opening of the 36th edition of the event called Tianguis, an indigenous word for “marketplace.” Later, departing from Tianguis tradition, he was enthusiastically invited to the stage during the official inauguration to sit with Mexican President Felipe Calderon and his state governors.

Surrounded by heavy security in the Acapulco Convention Center, Calderon set the tone for the show, announcing that 2011 has been dubbed, “The Year of Tourism,” and that all stops are being pulled out to reach the goal. Translated, this means record promotion budgets, building and upgrading infrastructure like highways and hotels, and increasing airline flights and the competitiveness of tourist destinations. The far-reaching objective, however, is to position Mexico among the top five travel spots in the world, the president added. (Mexico is currently ranked 10th globally in international tourism arrivals.)

The three-day Tianguis, which took place March 26-29, drew around 6,000 travel professionals broken down into buyers, exhibitors, media and representatives from 22 countries including newcomers Chile, Korea and China. As the list of countries expands so, too, do Mexico’s tourism numbers. So far, according to Secretary of Tourism Gloria Guevara, figures from last year indicate tourism is on the upswing following bumps in the road from the recession. Mexico received 22.4 million foreign visitors last year, up 7 percent from the previous year. The income they generated was $11.9 billion, an increase of 5.3 percent over 2009 but down from 2008 when tourism was booming.

Guevara announced at the close of Tianguis that next year tourism officials will choose a different city from Acapulco as the site of the show. The Pacific port had been hosting it non-stop since its inception in 1975 and Cancun has already expressed interest in being a frontrunner for the event.

What’s new?

Keeping abreast of trends and expectations of travelers, Rodolfo Lopez Negrete, head of the Mexico Tourism Board based in Mexico City, revealed that themes like Romance, Luxury Travel, Adventure and Gastronomy – “where Mexico excels” -- will be strongly promoted in the U.S. in 2011.

Additionally, among a number of new developments and activities announced during the trade show were:

Sol Melia Hotels & Resorts plans to inaugurate two new hotels under its upscale Paradisus brand in Playa del Carmen along the Riviera Maya. Opening in November, both will carry Royal service, described as a “hotel within a hotel.” Guests will also have access to a new 18-hole golf course.

Mazatlan is advertising its cultural festivals, Mardi Gras and Art Walk to visitors apart from a new golf course by David Fleming going up at Marina Mazatlan. An ambitious government development being planned nearby on the Pacific coast is expected to add thousands of deluxe hotel rooms in the future.

San Cristobal de las Casas in the southern state of Chiapas will sponsor the Adventure Travel World Summit conference for the first time Oct. 17-20. The theme will be Prosper with Purpose.

Los Cabos’ latest star is the luxurious Grand Solmar Land’s End Resort & Spa, which opened Phase I earlier this year within reach of the much-photographed Arch at Land’s End. The hotel is part of the Solmar Hotels & Resorts family.

The Tequila and Mezcal Museum, where the entrance fee includes a shot of tequila, and the Soumaya Museum of art built by Carlos Slim, one of the world’s wealthiest men, according to Forbes magazine, are two new cultural venues in Mexico City.

Cozumel has relaunched the $40 million Marina Cozumel project, which will be able to moor 332 small yachts and eventually debut several new hotels.

Huatulco, along the coast of Oaxaca, plans to open a 400-room, adults-only Secrets resort in July on the Bay of Conejos.

The savvy traveler: Tips of the trade

Story and photos by Bob Schulman

Points on getting points: If you collect frequent flyer points, it's helpful to know which airlines belong to which of the three big international marketing alliances (letting you swap points from one airline to another in their alliance). A quick way to find out is on a travel industry site: www.oagtravel.com (click “Airline Alliances” under “Guides” in the banner running across the page). You'll find a whole lot of other useful info on the OAG sites, such as government rules on benefits for involuntarily “bumped” passengers.

Where's the beach?: You probably wouldn't expect there'd be much of a difference between an “ocean front” room and one with an “ocean view.” Ah, but there is. In hotel talk, “front” means your room looks right out on the ocean. “View” means you might have to crane your neck a bit (or a lot) to see the wet stuff.

Where's my flight?: Check out this little gem of a site: www.flightstats.com.
It not only offers real-time flight tracking at airports all over the world but also links to hundreds of travel-related sites. Among tons of other features is an “airline scorecard” that rates the on-time performance of each airline at their 10 top arrival and departure airports.

Rules of the road: The International Air Transport Association, or IATA,  provides country-by-country info on customs rules, currency, airport departure taxes, baggage and ticketing practices, pet regulations and lots of other things you need to know about traveling overseas. Some of the sections are restricted to “VIP members” of IATA, but there's still a wealth of publicly available travel info on the site, www.iatatravelcentre.com.

Rules of the sea: Cruise industry policies on everything from security and sanitation to gambling are listed on the site of the Cruise Lines International Association, www.cruising.org. Click the “regulatory” box.

Here come the super-sites: Booking sites that compare travel info from dozens – some claim hundreds – of other booking sites are popping up all over the place. Some of the most popular super-sites are www.kayak.com,  www.lowfares.com and www.skyscanner.com.

Mix-'n-match fares: Not too long ago, the cheapest fares on most airlines required roundtrip bookings on the same carrier. Now, with mix-and-match one-way fares coming into vogue, if Carrier “A” has a flight leaving at a time that works best for you, and Carrier “B” comes back at the best time, their combined fares might be the same – sometimes even less – than the roundtrip tab on either airline. Let the booking sites do the math for you.
 

The pleasures of Portland

Story and photos by Rich Grant

www.walkinganddrinkingbeer.com

Portland, Oregon, boasts everything a lively city should have: a wide river lined with bike paths; a slew of trendy restaurants and brewpubs in old brick buildings; parks with grand views of distant snowcapped volcanoes; and perhaps the nation’s best fleet of food trucks with dozens of them dishing up everything from Scottish bangers to sushi. 

But the pleasures of Portland are best enjoyed at night – only because there are so many better things to do in the day. Within a drive of an hour or so you can walk along a stunning beach past tidal pools and giant rock formations; visit a reconstruction of a fort where Lewis and Clark spent a winter; hike to a dozen waterfalls; take in sweeping panoramas of the Columbia River Gorge; drive through rich farmlands bursting with pears, peaches, apples and berries; and hike on the ridge of snowcapped Mount Hood.  

Daytripping on the coast

You could spend a month touring the spectacular Oregon coast, but if you just want a taste, head west from Portland on Hwy. 26 to Canon Beach, the most attractive and upscale town in the area. The village is filled with overflowing flower baskets, nice shops on brick courtyards, weathered shingle cottages and a main street of outdoor cafes. Flowers and seagulls are everywhere. 

Dominating the beach is Haystack Rock, a black mountain of a boulder just offshore that juts up 235 feet into the air. At low tide, you can walk to the base to see a rare colony of Tufted Puffins and wander around tidepools filled with crabs, colorful sea stars, snails and coral. Docents explain the creatures above and below the surface.

Nearby, Ecola State Park has a twisting road through an old rainforest of ferns  and moss to one of the most famous coastal views in Oregon – a wild scene of pounding surf and coastal rocks, many forming small islands that are now home to barking sea lions. 

Explorer William Clark and his Indian guide Sacagawea hiked here in January 1806 to investigate reports of a beached whale. Clark was wintering with fellow traveler Meriwether Lewis at a log fort, several miles away. 

Today, the National Park Service has erected a replica of Fort Clatsop. In 1804, President Thomas Jefferson sent Lewis and Clark and 31 explorers to follow rivers across the great American West to the Pacific Ocean. It took them a year and a half and they traveled 4,000 miles before they finally reached their goal.  The explorers built Fort Clatsop as a winter retreat, but of the 112 days they spent here, it rained all but 12. The dampness rotted their clothes and made life miserable for the flea-infested men. 

Today at the national park, it’s pleasant enough out in the woods, but it does seem a far cry from the flower baskets and shingle cottage cafes of Canon Beach.

Into the gorge and around Mount Hood

Another big day trip from Portland is traveling the other direction, east to the Mount Hood National Scenic Byway, a 150-mile loop that takes you up the Columbia River Gorge and to the base of towering 11,239-foot, snowcapped Mount Hood. 

For the best light on the waterfalls, do the loop clockwise, heading east on Interstate 84 to the pretty village of Troutdale (Exit 17), where you pick up what’s left of the Historic Columbia River Highway. 

When it opened in 1916, this highway was the first paved road in the Northwest. The engineering marvel had 18 bridges spanning rivers and canyons, and was built as a scenic tour for Model T’s to allow access to the area's incredible, and previously inaccessible, natural beauty. 

Much of this 1916 road was destroyed or abandoned in the 1940s when I-84 was built, but there is still a 22-mile section open. It is an amazing drive, coming so close to waterfalls that their spray will land on your windshield. There are pull-offs, vistas and plenty of short hikes. One of the first “must” stops is Vista House at Crown Point. Opened in 1917 as a “comfort station,” the house sits at an elevation of 733 feet and offers grand views of the road and gorge. 

From here, the highway spirals down to the river and begins a stretch lined with seven huge waterfalls. First up is Latourell Falls, definitely worth the short hike.  The showpiece, and the most visited natural attraction in Oregon, is Multnomah Falls. There are two falls here, the big one drops 542 feet into a pool crossed by a foot-bridge, with a second drop of 69-feet under it. If you combine them, the 620-foot drop makes this the nation’s third highest year-round falls. 

Back on I-84, it’s 33 miles to Hood River, a pretty town and lunch stop with cafes, brewpubs and antique stores. From here, the loop heads south on Hwy. 35.  Make a detour in a few miles to Panorama Point, a small hill that looks across farm country to towering Mount Hood. This fertile Hood River Valley produces 225,000 annual tons of cherries, pears and apples -- prized fruit that is shipped around the world. There are 30 farms, wineries and specialty stores selling their products in the valley on a route that is amusingly called, “The Fruit Loop.”

Continuing on, the road twists, climbs and circles 44 miles into the Mount Hood range, gaining elevation through deep green forests of pine. Take a turn west at Government Camp and continue climbing to 6,000 feet and the Timberline Lodge. Opened in 1937, this wood and stone hotel was used as the location for the movie The Shining. The actual hotel is a far cry from the creepy one in the movie. Trails lined with wildflowers lead to glaciers at the base of Mount Hood, where the late afternoon turns the snow shades of orange and pink.

But as the sun starts to set, remember, it’s 63 miles back to the pleasures of Portland…and all those waiting food trucks and brewpubs. 

Go Vikings

Story and photos by Ted Alan Stedman

It was lovingly presented to me on a silver tray at the Smyrlabjorg Guesthouse in Hofn, southern Iceland. The inn keeper gleamed like a proud new mother as she lifted the cover to display her culinary creation, fresh from the kitchen. What I saw nearly cracked my cast-iron stomach.

“I hope you enjoy svio. It is one of our most popular traditional Icelandic delicacies,” said a slightly smirking Odin, my dinner companion and taciturn local guide with whom I’d been exploring Iceland the past week.

Svio, as I immediately discovered, is not a dish for the faint of heart. It’s a blackened sheep’s head, singed to remove the wool, then boiled and split length-wise. The halves stare at you with intact, vacant eyes and a toothy sneer. Cheeks, lips, eyes, brains – everything is reputedly edible. To make matters less appetizing, I was in an adjacent barn just 20 minutes earlier coddling a newborn lamb. And then there I was, with what I suspected was the lamb’s relative, reduced to a crispy critter.

While I pondered this distasteful dilemma, Odin showed his true form and became the consummate carnivore as he nonchalantly held the creature’s cranium in both hands and skillfully tore into its opaque flesh with his incisors.

At some woozy point in this spectacle I recalled what French gastronome Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin so famously wrote: “Tell me what you eat; I will tell you what you are.”

Suddenly, the implication of a powerfully built man dispassionately devouring a sheep’s head made perfect sense. It was, in essence, my Eureka moment – one that gradually coalesced since setting foot on this quirky, isolated, spectacular sub-Arctic island.

Here you are still among the Vikings.

Like most adventure seekers, I was lured by the call of the wild to this North Atlantic outpost. But after a week of kayaking, ski touring, volcano hiking and weaving a Zodiac through a maze of icebergs, the greatest adventure proved to be Iceland’s porrablot menu, the country’s traditional food and drink “specialties” that have persisted since apparently famished Vikings first settled this austere island in the 9th century.

Take my first night in the capital of Reykjavik, where I wound up with Odin in the hip Nasa Nightclub. I was approached by two jovial Norsemen named – and I’m quite serious – Merlin and Thor, who correctly pegged me for an “outsider” and challenged me to a drinking game. As in, see if you can drink this.

“It is a tradition in Iceland to drink the Brennivin,” said one of them, thrusting me a shot of the liquor made from fermented potato pulp flavored with caraway seeds. The vile concoction is aptly nicknamed “Black Death,” a drink Vikings once swilled to fortify themselves before pillaging villages. Tossing back a shot of the oily substance burned my esophagus and made me grimace like I’d swallowed, well…Black Death. Of course the amusement at my expense was not wasted. “Ha! That is why we call it the Black Death,” the trio of would-be Vikings said between belly laughs. I don’t recall the exact course of the night other than when we left Nasa, day had already broken and I felt as if I’d consumed industrial cleanser (Note to self: sucker).

Merely several hours later Odin appeared at my tiny, acetic hotel room for our sightseeing drive to the nearby port town of Hafnarfjorour on the Reykjanes Peninsula. The town sits in the otherworldly landscape of the craggy Burfell lava field, one of the essential features of an island forged by fire and ice. That humans claimed and somehow prospered on this tortured piece of volcanic real estate lashed by the Atlantic seems slightly miraculous. Naturally, the town is also known at the “Viking Center” of Iceland. How appropriate.

If you want to revel in the ways of the Vikings, go to the town’s Fjorukrain restaurant near the harbor. The Vikingfest atmosphere, with its lively song, period artifacts and overall ambiance, is as genuine as it gets. It was here that Odin introduced me to blodmor, or blood pudding, a once-Viking staple that I reckoned must be consumed not for flavor but for masochistic tradition.

As I stared at a blackish sausage-shaped object that had the consistency of a pate well beyond its expiration date, memories of my prior evening’s encounter with Black Death percolated in my mind –  and gut. “You don’t look so well,” Odin playfully chided as I opted instead for cold-smoked salmon. I mustered my best phony smile and told him not to worry. “It is alright,” he stoically assured. “You will have more opportunities to sample our traditional foods.”

A couple days later, after visits to the surreal spa waters of the Blue Lagoon and the immense Gullfoss waterfall, we toured farther east from Reykjavik along the Ring Road. Odin seemed intent on providing the full range of Viking-inspired experiences, namely gross foods. And he surreptitiously made sure I had a heaping helping of culinary items off the insidious porrablot menu.

At Vik, a village set along an incredibly dramatic stretch of black sand coastline, we wandered along the cliffs to take in views of the towering Reynisdrangur rock pinnacles jutting from the sea. Along the steepest edges I heard the cries of birds, and looking down saw the distinctive puffins that nest along the cliff bands.

“Cute birds,” I blurted out, taken by their amiable, expressive faces.

“Yes, I suppose. Puffins are the national bird, you know,” said Odin with a certain measured detachment.

An hour later we were seated at a remote country inn ordering lunch. Most Icelanders speak English, but travel away from Reykjavik and the unintelligible Icelandic language becomes the norm. That goes for food menus, where a single word appears as an endless string of consonants punctuated by a handful of letters not known in English. Rather than have the hieroglyphics explained, I asked Odin to simply order something good. His curt recommendation: “Bird.” So bird it was, a rather oily tasting mystery meat that wasn’t half-bad, but gamey and, well…peculiar.

“Is this some type of chicken or quail?” I asked Odin.  

“Oh no. That is puffin.”

I was slightly horrified that the beautiful birds I admired earlier, the country’s national birds that I assumed were protected as eagles are in the United States, could be eaten. “They are a traditional delicacy – very important food to early Vikings,” he affirmed in a matter-of-fact way that I’d come to expect as the standard Icelandic response.

Further testament that the way of the Vikings still lives.

The next day out I ventured into the interior of southeast Iceland, where Europe’s largest ice cap, the sprawling Vatnajokull Glacier, lies. With several other travelers I ski-toured one of the most bizarre, alien landscapes I’d ever seen – one with icy craters and overhanging headwalls, tourmaline-colored crevasses and rocky volcanic pikes protruding through the ice like 100-foot daggers. The day-long tour left me exhausted, and back at the trail hut where Odin was waiting for me I said something about my “I could eat a horse” appetite – an American idiom that apparently doesn’t translate well in Iceland.

Which is how I found myself at the Smyrlabjorg Guesthouse. But before the decapitated ovine, and at Odin’s insistence, I ingested other Viking-inspired porrablot delectables. There was slatur, a sort of sausage made from blood, guts, fat and a dash of meat sewn up in a sheep’s stomach. The pickled, rubbery ram’s testicles known as hrutspungur weren’t as nasty as I envisioned, though I didn’t order seconds. And I won’t easily forget choking down a grayish cube of hakarl, or putrefied shark. It carries a horrendous eye-watering ammonia stench that is the ultimate acid test as to how far humans might go to avoid starvation.

Yet this was all a prelude to svio, a barbaric gastronomic finale if there ever was one. Odin sensed my queasiness, if not my anthropomorphic sensibilities.

“What, you can’t eat the cute little lamb?” he playfully chided before demonstrating the proper dining technique (two hands required, bite and tear as needed…and don’t forget the eyes). I told him I’d had enough. I drew the line with svio. And no, I would not make a very good Viking.

“OK. But now we must have a toast. You will drink the Black Death?”

El Salvador: The 45 minutes country

Story and photos by Diana Rowe

www.dianarowe.com and www.TravelingInHeels.com

Ask how long it takes to get anywhere in El Salvador and the answer is always “about 45 minutes.” That’s the beauty of El Salvador that I experienced last November in a two-day adventure.

Most Boomers recall its 12-year civil war (1979-1992); yet today nearly two decades later, this country is slowly rebuilding its infrastructure to attract more visitors. Everything else is already in place as Mother Nature blessed this land with a tropical paradise sprinkled with pristine forests, active volcanoes, black sand beaches with some of the world’s best surf, archaeological sites and cultural attractions.

The most densely populated Central American country with a population of more than 7.1 million, El Salvador borders the Pacific Ocean between Guatemala and Honduras. Despite its small size, El Salvador has the third largest economy in Central America, and its main currency (since 2001) is the U.S. dollar.

Sprawling across the Valle de las Hamacas in the shadow of Volcán (the local volcano) is the bustling colonial city of San Salvador, a metropolis going through a rebirth. In the heart of the financial district surrounded by trees, I arrive at my accommodations for the next two nights, Crowne Plaza San Salvador, where I’m greeted with my first photo opportunity while breakfasting at the hotel’s restaurant, El Mirador. The patio overlooks the pool, with a tantalizing view of the volcano.

On our San Salvador city tour, we stop at the Parque de Cuscutlan. It’s a typical urban city park, lush with grass and trees. A couple sits on a park bench holding hands. Another family enjoys a picnic. But the focal point is a sobering memorial lining the park, a granite wall, not unlike the Vietnam War Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. The wall is carved with some 30,000 names, divided by year of death and category, either “assassinated” or “disappeared.” Another 50,000 names don’t even appear on the wall, as they have not been identified. One of those names hasn’t been forgotten as I silently bow my head as a mother mourns her lost son.

We move on to the bustling downtown city streets, often strewn with trash, but the colors are vibrant and the mood is always lively. Vendors walk the sometimes crumbling sidewalks, hawking their wares, anything from local handmade crafts such as hammocks, textiles, ceramics and miniatures to fresh fruit carried in hand-woven baskets.

Others simply park their grills near city landmarks such as Catedral Metropolitana and Teatro Nacional to prepare pupusa and other fresh Salvadorian cuisine. This thick corn tortilla is filled with a blend of fillings such as cooked pork, seasoned beans, a mixture of aged and fresh cheese or other fillings, and then placed on a hot griddle until the crust turns golden. 

As the locals promise, a 45-minute drive brings us to Sunzal Beach, a surfing destination considered among the top 10 best beaches of the world for amateurs. Lunch is at Café Sunzal, an open-air local seafood restaurant located on top of a rocky cliff, where we enjoyed an impressive view of the Pacific Ocean and a handful of surfers testing the waves. Travelers wishing to include more days of surfing might consider accommodations at Casa de Mar Hotel & Villas (http://www.casademarhotel.com/v2/), located a few hundred yards below Café Sunzal.

On our return to our hotel, we passed through Zona Rosa, an area of a square mile where the best hotels, restaurants and nightlife are located. Most tourists gravitate here at night as it is the safest area in the city.

A visit to San Salvador wouldn’t be complete without seeing a volcano, so our second day adventure was a 45-minute drive (as promised) to the crater of El Boquerón. The name means “wide mouth” in Spanish, fitting as it measures 1,476 feet deep and 3 miles in diameter.

To get there, we hiked the El Boquerón National Park, trails totaling some 3 miles.  Hiking along the lookout points, if you’re lucky, will result in sightings of the Torogóz (the national bird), foxes, toucans, tepescuintles, agouti paca (a type of rabbit-sized rodent found from Mexico to Paraguay), countless species of butterflies and an abundance of wild flowers including orchids and other topical species. More active hikers can also hike to the bottom of the Boquerón crater.

Although dormant since 1917, the San Salvador volcano’s breathtaking beauty is almost haunting when considering El Salvador’s nickname, the “Pompeii of the Americas.” The moniker comes from the country’s main archaeological discovery, Joya Ceren, a preserved Mayan Village covered by volcanic ash in 600 AD.

Lunch is a must at Las Brumas Grill & Café, located in the volcano at a height of just over a mile. The entrance opens into a courtyard lined with flowers, foliage and fresh air. Hummingbirds fly flower to flower and blue magpies sing in the distance. It’s as if you’ve stepped into paradise, but then you walk through the restaurant onto the patio and wow! It hits you, the amazing view of the valley below you. Sure, the food is good, but the glimpse of the beauty of El Salvador is inspiring.

I was told that El Salvador sneaks up on the traveler, and yes, this country of 45 minutes truly does do just that. The warmth of the Salvadorians from the country of endless smiles and the way the city saturates all your senses will sneak up on you and bring you back for more. 

Getting there: Several major airlines, including TACA Airlines, offer nonstop flights to San Salvador from U.S. gateways such as Miami, Houston, New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles and Dallas/Ft. Worth.

Staying there: Among a number of tourist-class hotels in the capital city is the Crowne Plaza San Salvador (www.ichotelsgroup.com).

More info: Visit El Salvador Tourism at www.elsalvador.travel.

New in Alaska: Cruising the wilds on small ships

Story and photos by Lorry Heverly

www.lorryheverly.com

Alaska is America’s last frontier, a land of pristine beauty and remote wilderness. Here, majestic snowcapped mountains, ancient boreal forests, cascading waterfalls and centuries-old glaciers are highlights of this rugged landscape, and a springboard for adventures in nature.

For many Boomers, exploring Alaska’s Inside Passage tops the “bucket list” of must-see places. But up to now, choices have been mostly limited to glancing at a distant wilderness from the deck of a large cruise ship. And when visiting commercialized ports of call, being herded around in large groups and jockeying for deck space to see distant whale action is not everyone’s cup of tea.

Boomers seeking an active and up-close way to experience the wilds of Alaska now have a choice with the launch of InnerSea Discoveries' new small-ship adventure expeditions. Starting next month, the M/V Wilderness Adventurer and M/V Discoverer, two newly renovated vessels, will begin journeys to remote eastern and western coves of Alaska’s Inside Passage.

What makes these new adventure cruises different is the variety of daily, active activities like kayaking, hiking, paddle boarding or exploring by zodiac, giving guests a chance to explore Alaska’s natural wonders and wildlife and at the same time challenge the spirit and soul.

InnerSea Discoveries understands that guests aren’t all super-fit adrenaline junkies, so the cruises' activities offer a choice of skill levels -- letting everyone enjoy their experience on their own terms. For example, some guests may opt for a day-long hike while others may prefer a healthy jaunt followed by taking time to photograph wildflowers.

A typical day

Launch a kayak from the back deck and perhaps you’ll encounter Humpback whales slapping a tail or breeching from the water on their summer migration through the passage. Or carefully navigate through a bay filled with remarkable floating icebergs at the base of a caving ancient glacier. For a real challenge, try the stand-up paddle board.

Among other activities: Discover the flora and fauna along wilderness trails on a guided naturalist walk or hike to the top of a misty waterfall. Board a small skiff or zodiac and scour the rugged coastline looking for brown bear, eagles, sea otters and whales. Best of all, daily hikes, kayak tours, paddle boarding and zodiac excursions are included in the price of the cruise, and whatever activity you choose you’ll be joined by only a handful of other guests.

Every day is a new adventure where the wonders of the last frontier await discovery. Explore El Capitan cave, the largest in North America. Learn the living history of native Alaskans at the Tlingit village of Klawock. Here, locals captivate guests with tales of their unique customs and traditions. Wander to the woodshed where artisans still practice the ancient art of totem carving. Don a thick wetsuit and snorkel the mineral-rich waters teeming with marine life.

On board

The expedition vessels of InnerSea Discoveries are specially designed to reach remote regions and bays of the Inner Passage, inaccessible to larger ships. Each departure is limited to just 49 guests, offering spaciousness in public areas and on the observation decks. Guest quarters, each with private bathroom and shower, are comfortable with plenty of storage space. After an invigorating day in the outdoors, pamper yourself in the sauna, hot tub on the deck or book a massage.

Once-in-a-lifetime experiences can be found on several optional tours. Get a birds-eye view of a glacier by floatplane. Experience the thrill of hooking a King Salmon or the tranquility of fly fishing an icy stream. Camp overnight in the great outdoors listening to the whales blowing and breaching just offshore.

Cruises on the two newly remodeled ships will operate between Juneau and Ketchikan from May through late August 2011. Prices begin at $1,795 per person, double occupancy.

More info:  www.InnerSeaDiscoveries.com, phone 1-877-901-1009.

Silks for silver: Tales of the Manila Galleons

By Bob Schulman

Imagine it’s the 16th century, and you’re on a 2,500-ton Spanish super-galleon sailing off the Pacific coast of Mexico. You’re on your way back from a long, dangerous voyage to Manila, where traders from New Spain swapped silver coins and ingots – looted from mines across Mexico and Peru – for silks, porcelain, ivory, spices and the other riches of Asia.

Currents on the return portion of the trip took you across the Pacific to Northern California, after which your ship lumbered down the coast to the tip of the Baja Peninsula, then skirted the Sea of Cortes to the Mexican mainland.

On the way to your home port at Acapulco are some of the most gorgeous bays in the world, at places like Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, Manzanillo and Zihuatanejo. But your captain casts a nervous eye on these spots – particularly Zihuatanejo – because they’re known to shelter pirate fleets. And yours is the biggest prize of all.

The story of this ancient, seagoing version of today’s jumbo jets goes back to 1564, forty-three years after the Spanish conquest of Mexico.

East meets west in Manila

In the Far East, silver rules. Emperors, pashas and shahs dream of filling their palaces with the shiny stuff – and hundreds of mines across the Pacific in the New World are loaded with it. Meanwhile, the viceroys, marquises and grandees of Mexico yearn to fill their grand haciendas with silks and porcelain from China and their kitchens with hot stuff from the Spice Islands.

So East and West made a deal to swap their goods. The trading post would be at Manila, a Spanish colony already serving as a commercial link between Europe and Asia. To get there from Mexico, the westerners came up with a new breed of galleons, big enough – some were nearly as long as a football field – to carry hundreds of thousands of silver pesos (coins about the size of a U.S. silver dollar) and as many as 1,000 traders, crewmen, soldiers, settlers and convict laborers traveling to the Far East.

The vessels went down in the Spanish history books as the “Naos de China” (ships of China), in the Chinese books as what translated to “the Silver Argosies,” and in the English books, “the Manila galleons.”

Their eastbound voyages started at Acapulco, Mexico’s chief western seaport, where the galleons were loaded with silver and supplies for Spain’s overseas colonies. They sailed out of the bay under protection of the five gun-studded bastions of Fort San Diego, then latched on to the westerly trade winds to arrive in Manila two to three months later.

It was a lot harder getting back. The ships, now re-loaded with Asian treasures along with returning passengers, sometimes had to sail as far north as Japan and even the Aleutians to find winds and currents heading back across the Pacific. Usually, they ended up off the California coast near Cape Mendocino (170 miles north of modern-day San Francisco); from there, they caught winds blowing off and on down the shorelines of California, Baja California and western Mexico.

The trip from Manila to Acapulco typically took five or six months, and it was fraught with perils. Not only did the sailors have to worry about storms, tricky currents, starvation, dehydration, scurvy, and rocky, fog-shrouded shorelines, but their exotic cargoes were the prize targets of pirates, privateers (legalized pirates) and wartime enemies of Spain.

No wonder of all the galleons’ voyages – they trekked back and forth across the Pacific singly or in pairs for 250 years until Mexico gained its independence from Spain – around one out of five trips ended in some kind of disaster.

Prize prey for the jolly roger

It didn’t take a galleon scientist to figure out when the homeward-bound ships would show up off the coast of Mexico. They usually left Acapulco in January or February to take advantage of the season’s steady winds to the Philippines. They’d arrive in Manila in late spring, and after a few months of trading would start the homeward voyage around July – which would normally put them along the Mexican shoreline heading to Acapulco by mid-winter.

So all the pirates had to do (when they weren’t otherwise picking off coastal commerce) was to find a cozy harbor and sit around for a month or so waiting for the galleons’ enormous sails to pop up on the horizon.

The “pirate gauntlet” began at the tip of the Baja Peninsula, where the galleons stocked up on fresh water, fruits and vegetables at an eden-like estuary at San Jose del Cabo (now part of the huge resort complex of Los Cabos) before crossing the Sea of Cortes. While loading up, they were sitting ducks for the scofflaws of the seas.

Those that made it across the Sea of Cortes faced similar attacks along the Mexican mainland when they stopped to replenish their supplies. First up was the bay of Mazatlan, where three offshore islands provided natural hiding places for the swashbucklers. After that came attacks from hidden coves dotting the 60-mile-long bay of Puerto Vallarta. And a little further down the coast, a good number of galleons were picked off while trying to load up at the two secluded bays at Manzanillo.

At the end of the gauntlet of pirate hideaways was Zihuatanejo. If the galleons could make it past there, the remaining 150 miles to their home port at Acapulco were usually a breeze.

Zihuatanejo’s snug, meandering bay, however, was a formidable hurdle. Often lurking there were ships flying the Jolly Roger under the command of notorious swashbucklers of the likes of Sir Francis Drake, William Draper and Thomas Cavendish. What's more, towns around the bay were home to many of the pirate crews and their families.

Local historians tell the story of one hapless galleon on its way back from Manila that blundered into the bay – right into the cannons of a pirate fleet at anchor in the harbor. Fine Chinese silks from the ship drifted ashore on a beach, from which it got the name still on the maps today, Playa La Ropa (beach of the clothes).

Rough seas to rough roads

The galleons’ grueling trans-Pacific voyages were just part of the silver-for-silk odyssey. It began at mines across Mexico, from which raw silver was smeltered into coins and ingots to be carried overland to Acapulco, and at the mega-veins of Peru, from which the coins went by sea to Acapulco.

When the ships returned from Manila full of porcelain, silks, ivory and spices, they were off-loaded at Acapulco where a large share, the so-called King’s Fifth (equivalent to a 20 percent tax on the cargo), was earmarked for a 6,000-mile trip to the Royal Court of Spain. Another big portion was divided up between merchants who'd financed the trips. Still other goods mysteriously disappeared from the docks to show up for sale elsewhere in Mexico and at Spanish ports all the way down to Peru.

The King’s Fifth was carried by mule trains and on the backs of Indians over crude roads from Acapulco half-way across the country to Mexico City, and then on to eastern Mexico’s main port at Veracruz. From there, treasure fleets took the goods to Spain, starting with a harrowing day or so dodging pirates hiding just outside the bay in the Gulf of Mexico.

A few days later they were in back in pirate-infested waters, this time in the Caribbean for a stop at Spain's outpost in Havana to pick up supplies for the final leg of the trip. After that, there was one last hurdle: staying afloat and on course during horrendous weather across the Atlantic.

By the time the Asian treasures got to the Royal Court in Spain, much of the goods had traveled two-thirds of the way around the world.

Return to Vietnam

Story and photos by Robert W. Bone

robertbone.com
travelpieces.com

HO CHI MINH CITY, Vietnam -- The last time I visited Vietnam, somebody shot at me – and I was a tourist, for heaven's sake, not a combatant.

More on that in a moment.

Thankfully, lots of things are different today. For one, Saigon is now officially Ho Chi Minh City, except that almost everyone still calls it by its original name.

Once known as the "Paris of the Orient," Saigon might again lay claim to that title. The conflict that Vietnamese schoolchildren know as "the American War" has been over for over three decades. Saigon and its wide, tree-shaded avenues, sidewalk cafes, and smart shops have become an attractive destination for Americans.

Here in the former capital of the former South Vietnam, I checked in at the venerable Caravelle Hotel. It was the second time I had signed the register in 45 years.

In 1966, when my wife and I visited Saigon, the Caravelle was no taller than its 10th-floor rooftop bar. The only accommodation Sara and I could get was a modest room one flight up, overlooking a main intersection.

"No one wants that room," said Malcolm W. Browne. My friend and former newspaper colleague was a war correspondent headquartered in the city. "It's considered within grenade-lobbing distance from the street below," he explained.

My latest room at the Caravelle was a luxuriously appointed chamber on the 16th floor of the new 24-story wing, with a view of ferry boats bustling back and forth across the busy Saigon River.

 

In the 1960s, Mal believed in taking visitors out to show them the war. But because I had my bride with me, we toured several sites around the city. This included the intersection where Mal took the famous photo of the burning Buddhist monk, the tragic suicide that was published around the world.

Mal said he would like us to see the Mekong Delta, and so the four of us, including Sara and Mal's wife, Le Lieu, set off for a two-hour drive in his little white VW to the village of Mytho, where we lunched in a small open-air restaurant suspended over the edge of the Mekong River. It was painted pink.

At that point in time, American troops were just beginning to support South Vietnamese forces, although some of the fiercest battles in the war were yet to come.

That day in the Delta, Mal explained that it was tacitly understood that the opposite bank of the Mekong, which we could clearly see from our table, was considered Viet Cong territory 24/7. However, all the territory on this side of the river was controlled by the U.S.-supported government. Or at least it was during the daytime.

At night, it all belonged to the Viet Cong, Mal said.

On our afternoon drive back to Saigon, while passing some rice paddies, we suddenly heard a loud whizzing sound go by in front of the windshield.

"What the heck was that?" I asked. "You have just been sniped at!" said Mal, gritting his teeth. "Open the glove compartment."

There was a .45-caliber pistol for me to hold while Mal pressed down hard on the accelerator and our wives hunkered down in the back seat. But there was no further incident, and we arrived back in Saigon unharmed.

"I thought you told us this road belonged to the government during the day?" I asked later.

"Well, the VC is just like any other army," Mal replied. "There's always one guy who doesn't get the word!"

As it turned out, Mal did indeed show us the war. That night we dined in the open air at Paprika, an Algerian restaurant atop the Rex Hotel. The entertainment was a night artillery operation just outside the city.

We could see the muzzle flash in one neighborhood and the explosions where the rounds landed in another area. And the whole operation was directed by an F4 “Phantom” jet, with its distinctive spooky sound, as it circled over the city.

Sara and I left the following day as planned. But Mal stayed throughout the war, eventually winning a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage.

Vietnam revisited

My recent Vietnam trip was just as interesting and much more pleasurable. Again, I traveled out of Saigon on an excursion to the Mekong Delta, this time as part of a group conducted by Exotissimo, a company with its headquarters in Ho Chi Minh City and specializing in tours throughout Indochina.

We spent the morning and afternoon cruising the Mekong River on a tourist "junk boat," named the Cai Be Princess. From it we could observe life in the villages and floating markets along the river. Friendly families and workers on boats and along the banks waved at us.

During our weeklong tour we progressed from the tropical south to the cooler north. From Saigon, we flew to Nha Trang, which features luxury beach resorts to rival any I have seen elsewhere, and then continued to Da Nang, landing on the runways of the former American air base there.

We explored China Beach, which once served as a large R&R facility for American servicemen. It was also the title and theme of a hit TV show in the 1980s and 90s. The jewel in this part of the country was the laid-back village of Hoi An, where we stayed at the attractive waterside Life Resort adjoining an outdoor market.

The slow pace of life in Hoi An was not matched by the ubiquitous hard-working tailors in the village. I got overnight delivery on a tailored silk suit from a shop called Thu Thuy full of smiling young women. The cost? $180 -- and that was after choosing one of the better-quality fabrics.

From Hoi An, we bused over the mountains to the ancient imperial capital of Hue. Hue has seen its share of fierce battles over the centuries, not the least of which was the famous "Tet Offensive" between American and Vietnamese forces in 1968.

Our headquarters in Hue was La Residence, the expanded premises of the 1930 art deco home of the former French governors of colonial Vietnam. We visited the tombs and palaces of several former emperors. Also included was a Dragon Boat ride on the Perfume River where we docked at the famous Thien Mu pagoda. A visit to the extensive ruins of the 1808 Imperial Citadel capped the visit to Hue.

From Hue, we flew to Hanoi, the busy capital of the country. A human-powered "cyclo" (pedicab) tour of the city provided a thrilling introduction to its chaotic traffic. Much more sedate were the city's several museums, including the house of Ho Chi Minh and even Hoa Lo Prison, commonly known as the "Hanoi Hilton" during the Vietnam War.

As it turns out, there is now a genuine Hilton in Hanoi. Named the Hilton Opera, it was built alongside the city's opera house, a scaled down replica of the famous l'Opera in Paris.

A pedestrian excursion from the Hilton to dinner at the Hanoi Press Club a block away was a successful experiment in keeping a steady, determined pace while legions of motorcycles zoomed by. The key to safety: Keep walking at a steady pace and NEVER step backward.

The crowning experience in my trip to Vietnam was an overnight excursion on Halong Bay aboard a boat named the Emeraude, a re-creation of a similar vessel owned by a French family in the early 20th century.

Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is peacefully populated by hundreds of steep-sided islands, many of which look like giant green gum drops floating on still waters. Deep within these islands, small groups of fishing families live and work on an informal collection of  boats and rafts in a peaceful floating village.

Here there were no noisy scooters and motorcycles.

In fact there was also no evidence that anything as unpleasant as a war had ever disturbed this tranquil existence or ever could.

Robert W. Bone has written four travel guidebooks and hundreds of travel articles. He lives in Walnut Creek, Calif. His previous contribution to Watchboom was “A Return to Rio” (November 2010).

“We are met on a great battlefield ...”

By Robert N. Jenkins

bobjenkinswrites.com

GETTYSBURG, Pa. -- Every night, tourists in this farming community, site of the bloodiest battle ever fought in North America, stroll city streets on commercial ghost tours.

But visitors don't need to pay to hear about ghosts. They only need to walk the 6,000 acres of battlefields, or simply step inside the brilliant new visitors center. Ghosts are everywhere.

These ghosts are the sad, soulful memories of the more than 34,500 young Americans killed or wounded by other young Americans on the first three hot -- and horrific -- days of July 1863. Anything beyond a casual reading about that bloody to and fro causes you to mourn the victims, almost 150 years later.

More than 1.8 million people come each year to Gettysburg National Military Park, a swath of rolling Pennsylvania countryside, to roam the land. A visitors center opened in 1974, but it could accommodate less than a fourth of the tourists. Its technology in displaying even a fraction of the million artifacts -- diaries in fading ink, soldiers' Bibles, rifles and cannon -- was out of date.

Worse, though, was the realization that an adjacent parking lot and a building housing a deteriorating 1880s wrap-around painting of a famed battle sat atop the land where an estimated 971 soldiers had been killed.

Enduring cause

After years of planning and construction, a $103-million museum and visitors center replaced it in 2008, on land that saw no major combat.

The financing came from an unusual blend of public and private funds, with nearly three-quarters of it from individual and corporate donations.

"We have absorbed all the operating costs of the visitors center and museum," said Dru Anne Neil, director of communications and marketing for the nonprofit Gettysburg Foundation, "freeing the Park Service to spend its dollars to interpret this place to the visitors."

That interpretation includes more than an hour of new films that explain not just the battle but also the history of America, from the Revolution to contemporary times.

A 22-minute film has a few scenes with costumed actors, but largely depends on the filmmaking techniques that Ken Burns made so familiar in his PBS series The Civil War.

In this introduction, narrator Morgan Freeman gently intones, "Freedom, like power, will always be contested."

Deftly, his closing lines repeat one of the phrases from President Lincoln's immortal speech, delivered only a few hundred yards from where the visitors sit: "Now, we are met on a great battlefield of this war . . ."

Beyond twin theaters showing this film are 12 galleries, each using a phrase from the Gettysburg Address as its theme.

But first, a sign tells those entering: "The Civil War was fought over three issues - survival of the Union, the fate of slavery and . . . what it means to be an American.

“The war resolved the first two issues. The nation struggles with the third to this day."

Strokes of lightning

The museum makes strong use of writings from the period. Some of these are audio narrations, most are presented as signs by various displays. Nowhere is

this more effective than at the entrance to the galleries:

        “The South is determined to . . .make all who oppose her smell Southern   

        (gun)powder and taste Southern steel.”  -- Jefferson Davis, in his inaugural 

         speech upon becoming president of the Confederate States of America, in

         February 1861.

         “Every name (of a dead soldier) is a lightning stroke to some heart and it

          breaks like thunder over some home, and it falls a long black shadow upon 

          some hearthstone.” -- The Gettysburg Compiler newspaper, four days after

          the battle.

I found a couple of galleries most distinctive. One features actor Sam Waterston, the museum's voice of Lincoln, reading the Gettysburg Address in a raspy tenor.

Lincoln didn't give that brief speech until more than four months after the two armies had withdrawn. The Confederate wagon train carrying the wounded had stretched an estimated 17 miles.

But left behind in the fields, orchards, rocky clefts and forested hillsides were 7,708 dead or dying soldiers, and thousands of dead horses and mules.

So another memorable gallery describes this unimaginable aftermath thrust upon the 2,400 residents of the simple crossroads town.

See their faces

 

The display of artifacts is imaginative and helps the visitor understand facets of war or a soldier's life:

-- Gen. Lee's camp cot, writing desk and small stove show how simply the Confederate commander lived.

-- A small wooden slat bears the scrawled name of a dead Union soldier. It had been tied with a leather thong to his wrist, identifying him for burial. Around it are letters written to his father by the soldier's colleagues.

Wall displays hold rank upon rank of rifles from among the 28,000 recovered on the battlefield. About 23,000 of them were still loaded -- and had not been fired by their wounded or frightened owners.

One wall is covered with photographs of 1,000 soldiers, 500 from each side. Each of these men was killed, wounded or captured. They represent all who fought here.

It took the park's supervising historian and several interns about two years to create this display. Is that too much effort just to create an effect?

"If people come here and only tour this building and leave (the grounds)," says the Gettysburg Foundation's Neil, "we have failed miserably. We want people to get out and walk the battlefields, experience it and leave wanting to learn more, to come back. This place is so special in our history."

If you go: The Museum and Visitor Center is open daily, except on Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day. Entrance to the museum is free. There is a nominal fee for timed tickets to the 22-minute A New Birth of Freedom.

More info: Visit www.nps.gov/gett/planyourvisit/visitorcenters.htm.

Adventure on the Amazon

Story and photos by Jimm Budd

www.jimmbudd.com

Along the Brazilian Amazon – When I got off our cruise ship for a walk in the jungle I expected to encounter giant sloths hugging towering trees while spider monkeys leapt from branch to branch as colorful toucans gazed down with distain. Anacondas and scorpions I hoped would keep their distance, and I had no intention of swimming in waters where piranhas and 10-foot-long caimans lurk. Yet the first day out, the only sound our tour group heard was the cry of a pia bird. Marco Duila, our guide, responded with calls of his own, hoping to lure the creature into visibility. He failed.

“You have to understand, the animals here survive because of camouflage,” he explained. Duila, born in tropical Peru, has spent more than two decades leading groups into tropical wilderness. “Most animals here are nocturnal. It is not wise to wander along these paths after dark.”

That sent the appropriate tiny shiver up my spine. This is why people board cruise ships to see the Amazon. To be scared while staying safe.

Not one to disappoint his charges, Duila quickly pointed at a hairy black tarantula, its fangs splayed for attack at lethally poisonous bullet ants. With that, I was ready for return to the comforts of our rather luxurious vessel.

We had started out cruising along the Rio Solimoes, a geologically young river, nutrient-rich and, compared to the nearby Rio Negro, teeming with life both on shore and within the water. Where the Solimoes and Negro join close to the port of Manaus, the Amazon is born. Caboclos -- descendents of Portuguese settlers and indigenous women -- live along the shore, fishing with nets or spears, washing clothes on slabs of wood and tending to small gardens. Manaus, where the river is 5 miles across, is as far as ocean-going ships can travel.

Boats are the main way people get around, nice looking boats that resemble the tour boats you might find in Acapulco or Cancun. There being only one road out of Manaus – and it leads to Caracas, 1,250 miles away -- the boats serve as buses. Boat owners – the boat mafia, some people call them – campaign hard to prevent any highways being cut from southern Brazil through the Amazon basin. Ecologists support them.

Aboard our ship, the Iberostar Grand Amazon, quarters were air-conditioned. A swimming pool was available and there seemed to be a bar on all three decks. But constantly we were reminded where we were. After dinner our first night, we were treated to a showing of Al Gore's movie, "An Inconvenient Truth." The Amazon's biodiversity took on a new meaning.

In the morning, we went out see the dense vegetation up close. I might have been happy just gazing over the railing of the ship, but such apathy is frowned upon. Excursions are a daily feature, with passengers given a choice of staying aboard launches that find invisible channels in the undergrowth or actually hiking in through tropical wilderness. Uneasy about the possibility of encountering something slithery or clawed, I was told a bigger worry are mosquitoes and fire ants. Long pants and long-sleeved shirts are proper dress for the jungle, with repellant the lotion of choice.

On one trek we stopped by a rather grubby riverside farm where an extended Caboclo family scrounges out a living grating and roasting cassava, leaching out the cyanide within. What remains is fried into farinha, staple of the Amazon jungle diet. That and fish provide all the family needs. The family might appear poor by our standards, but everyone appeared quite happy. Of course, I doubt that our guide would have taken us to visit a household of malcontents.

Compared to the Solimoes, the Río Negro is solemn, sparsely populated and a trifle eerie. The water, dark as the name implies, is highly acidic as river water goes, so much so that fish from the Solimoes cannot survive in the Negro. And while the shore appeared green and lush, the soil is poor for farming. From an ecological point of view, this is a blessing. Were the soil truly fertile, the rain forest by now might have been slashed, burned and turned into farmland.

A fascination with ecology is almost a requirement for an Amazon cruise. Important, too, is selecting the season you will most enjoy. The months from December through February are humid and rainy, although the rain falls throughout the year. After all, this is a rain forest. September through November is excellent for seeing different species of birds nesting along the shore. The waters are highest in June, July and August.

While the food on board is good and activities are programmed throughout the day, an Amazon cruise is not a journey for the easily bored. We did fish for piranhas, watched small caimans caught and released, had a chance to cuddle a sloth and have an anaconda draped around the neck – I declined – but most of what you see is trees, leaves and sometimes murky water. They had a disco aboard our ship, but I never heard any music playing there.

Whale of a tale

Story and photos by Patricia Alisau

 

“Here comes Juanito,” someone shouted. All eyes turned towards the horizon as a calf swam closer to the boat. Its mother, all tuckered out from giving birth that day, kept him close as she edged him towards the panga. Then in what seemed like a nanosecond, the pair dove smoothly under the small craft, causing nary a ripple in the water. We were in western Mexico's Magdalena Bay, and the immediate kinship we felt with the mom ran to baptizing her babe on the spot with a name. Visiting the whale sanctuary on the Baja Peninsula was one of the most memorable and endearing sights of the trip.   

In between the cities of La Paz and Loreto, the Bay is one of three spots along the Gulf of California side of the Peninsula where the gray whales winter after migrating 5,000 miles from the frigid Arctic.  At any given time from December to April, the female adults are either nursing, calving or mating in its warm, shallow waters. And “honeymooning,” Jose, our boat caption announced, pointing to a couple frolicking in the water in the far distance.

By no means small at birth, the calves measure around 15 feet long and weigh several hundred pounds, eventually reaching several tons at maturity. It’s no wonder mariners of old dubbed them, “sea monsters.”  A classic example is the Herman Melville masterpiece, Moby Dick.  Melville, like the rest, claimed whales were formidable foes when, in truth, they are some of the most gentle and docile creatures of the sea. Curiosity will get the best of them when something like a panga appears in their waters, which draws them closer to investigate. And, on occasion, they have been known to swim up alongside and be petted.

Rustic and with loads of local flavor, the dock of the Bay is surrounded by independent panga guides, who also double as fishing guides, offering one- and two-hour excursions for six passengers at a time. Passengers are fitted with life jackets and the ride is calm. Handcraft stalls line the parking lot selling shark teeth, the famous carvings of seals and whales made of local ironwood, native damiana herbal tea said to be good for the digestion, sea shells and other souvenirs. Afterwards you can drop in for huge platters of fish and seafood at an unpretentious restaurant across the lot operated by the boatmen’s union.

Getting there: Magdalena Bay is located in the sparsely populated community of Lopez Mateos, off the Transpeninsular Highway. The Bay's two closest airports are in La Paz and Loreto, both served by Alaska Airlines from the U.S. Whale-watching excursions can be booked through several hotels in the two towns, from which it's about a two-hour drive from either one to the Bay. From Los Cabos at the tip of the Baja Peninsula it's a drive of around four hours.

History comes alive in New York’s old-time taverns

Story and photos by Rich Grant

London has “public houses” that developed into pubs primarily for the locals, but New York’s fame is the tavern – described as “a clean, well-lighted place where a visitor can feel welcome with a good meal and drink.” Among lots of great taverns around New York that fit that bill, here are four must-see spots.

Fraunces Tavern Museum (54 Pearl St.)

It’s not the best bar in the city for a drink, but it is one of three that claim to be the oldest. Opened in 1719, it was originally called the Queen’s Head. The Sons of Liberty plotted a revolution here and in 1775 the British fired an 18-pound cannon ball into the roof.  But it is most renowned as the place where George Washington bid an emotional farewell to his officers on Dec. 4, 1783. The most famous party of the Revolution was held upstairs in the Long Room, which has been re-created as it appeared on that afternoon. A museum has exhibits on New York’s role in the Revolution, along with one of George’s false teeth and a lock of his hair.

The building was restored in 1904 and how much of it is authentic can be debated, but it is one of a very few structures in New York to survive the Revolution. When the British captured the city in 1776 (backed by the largest armada and invading army the world had known to that point), retreating Americans set fire to the town and much of it was destroyed.

Fraunces Tavern witnessed more violence in 1975 when it was bombed by the Armed Forces of Puerto Rican National Liberation and four people were killed.

Today, the restaurant and bar have a colonial feel with wooden tables and chairs, and there are flags and paintings, and (who knows why?) fake African animal heads in the bar, but you can’t deny the sense of history.

More info: www.frauncestvernmuseum.org

McSorley’s Old Ale House (15 E. 7th St.)

Both Abe Lincoln and John Lennon have bellied up to the bar here (standing room only, please, no bar stools), as have Presidents Franklin and Teddy Roosevelt and John Kennedy. Woody Guthrie played guitar at the front table, and e.e. cummings wrote a poem about the place.

Opened in 1854, McSorley’s is the longest continually operated saloon in New York…and looks it. The floor is still covered with sawdust, there’s a genuine coal- burning stove, and the walls are a museum with everything from the handcuffs used to tie up Houdini to an authentic wanted poster for John Wilkes Booth.

Women weren't admitted in the bar until 1970 (an early 1920s slogan was:  “Good Ale, Raw Onions and No Ladies”). It took a lawsuit and a ruling from the U.S. Supreme Court to change that. The bar’s revenge? They allowed women, but didn’t offer a ladies room.  A real women’s room was not added until 1986.

For its entire history, McSorley’s has served only one beverage – ale. Ordering is simple, you simply say “Light or dark.” In another quirk of the bar, you need to buy two beers at a time, though they are smallish mugs, about 10 ounces each.

As you would expect, the place attracts a large crowd and seems to be a mecca for college students. It’s best enjoyed on a cold afternoon before the rush hour, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows and the coal heat from the stove warming the room. Pet one of the house cats, eat some peanuts and read e.e. cummings’ poem: “I was sitting in mcsorleys. outside it was New York and beautifully snowing. inside snug and evil.”

McSorley’s is a block from St. Mark’s Place, ground zero of the hippie movement in the 60s. The block between Third and Second is where Andy Warhol and Yoko Ono (pre John Lennon) staged hippie happenings, and the nearby Fillmore East was where the Who premiered their rock opera Tommy. From the funky t-shirt shops, costume stores, tattoo parlors, and basement shops, the street still has that same electric, edgy, crazy, punk-goth feel. You won’t be surprised that this was Madonna’s first New York neighborhood.

More info: www.mcsorleysnewyork.com

Pete’s Tavern (129 E. 18th St.)

Pete’s never attracted George Washington or Abe Lincoln, but it has been featured in Seinfeld, Sex in the City and Law and Order, which makes it a New York classic. Opened in 1864, Pete’s claims to be the longest continually opened bar and restaurant in the city. (Pete’s stayed open during prohibition, disguised as a flower shop. McSorley’s was operated as a speakeasy.)

Perhaps the most famous event occurred at Pete’s in 1904 when bar regular O. Henry came in and wrote the classic short story, Gift of the Magi, in one sitting at his favorite booth, the first one in from the front doors. Sit at the 30-foot-long rosewood bar and try their 1864 Original House Ale.

More info: www.geocities.com/petestavern.geo/historyb

The Algonquin Hotel (59 W. 44th St.)

Up for another pint? Tipplers have been coming to the elegant Algonquin for close to 110 years. In the 1920s the hotel was home to the “Algonquin Round Table,” where the city’s greatest wits and writers gathered to tell jokes and trade insults, many of which worked their way into novels, films and plays. Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, Harpo Marx and George S. Kaufman (who wrote the Marx Brothers movies) were just some of the regulars who lunched here. The lobby bar has been maintained in the same style. Waiters will point out the location of the original “Round Table” and there is a historic display case telling the story.

But best of all are the bar’s cocktail napkins, which have one of the great Dorothy Parker lines that originated in this room: "I love a martini -- but two at the most. Three I'm under the table; Four, I'm under the host."

More info: www.algonquinhotel.com.

Coming soon in Costa Rica: Juan Santamaria Day

Story and photos by Bob Schulman

If you're planning a trip to Costa Rica around April 11, you should know that day is a major holiday honoring the country's national hero, Juan Santamaria.

His name shows up on roads, statues, billboards, storefronts and in songs. Even the country's international airport at its capital city of San Jose is named after him.

Who was he? Ask any “tico” (as Costa Ricans call themselves), and they'll tell you the story of how Santamaria – a drummer boy in the Costa Rican militia -- was drawn into a saga that helped shape the history of Central America. Chances are you'll hear different versions of the story, but they typically start by taking you back to the mid-1800s, when a gold rush in northern California was drawing fortune seekers from around the world.

Wannabe miners from the eastern U.S. and Europe gathered in New York, from which they sailed down the Atlantic and Caribbean coasts to Nicaragua, then crossed most of the country on waterways and the last stretch over land by stagecoach. After that, sailing ships took them up the Pacific coast to the Mexican port of Mazatlan for a little R&R, and then on to San Francisco.

Enter the billionaire

Here's where the plot thickens. The cross-Nicaraguan transit system was operated by Wall Street tycoon Cornelius Vanderbilt, and it made big bucks. What's more, Vanderbilt hoped to create an even bigger cash cow by getting the U.S. Congress to finance the construction of a canal (which Vanderbilt would build) across the country from coast to coast. But all this was threatened by a civil war raging in Nicaragua.

The plot got even thicker when soldier-of-fortune William Walker hopped on the stage. In 1855, he invaded Nicaragua with a mercenary army – reportedly financed by Vanderbilt – and seized control of the country, ending the civil war.

But Walker double-crossed Vanderbilt by handing the transit system over to the mogul's rivals. In retaliation, Vanderbilt prompted neighboring Costa Rica to declare war on Walker, then backed an incursion into Nicaragua by the Costa Rican militia. In the spring of 1856, they took on Walker's forces at Rivas, a key city on the Nicaraguan transit route just north of the Costa Rican border.

The Costa Ricans won, but their victory was short-lived. An outbreak of cholera decimated their ranks, and they went home.

A few months later, Walker won a rigged election and became president of Nicaragua. He ran the country for about a year – during which he re-legalized slavery (it had been banned in 1824) and changed the nation's official language to English – until a coalition of Central American forces backed by Vanderbilt forced his surrender and return to the U.S.

Walker's last hurrah was in 1860, when he tried to stir things up in Honduras and ended up facing a firing squad.

Enter the hero

Historians generally consider Walker's defeat at Rivas as the turning point in his career. It showed he wasn't invincible as some had feared at the time. The battle also showcased the courage of Santamaria, a 24-year-old laborer who'd joined the militia when Costa Rican President Juan Rafael Mora called on the country to take up arms against Walker. His moment of greatness came during the battle of Rivas on April 11, 1856, when his unit was ordered to take a strategically located building held by Walker's mercenaries.

Stepping out from behind cover, Santamaria ran down the street and threw a torch on the building's thatched roof, causing Walker's men to abandon it. Costa Rican forces then captured the town – but not before Santamaria was cut down by an enemy sniper.

Fast forward to modern times, and if you're in Costa Rica on April 11 you'll find yourself in a countrywide Fourth of July-like celebration of fiestas, parades and street dancing – all this to honor the patriotism of a lad who asked only one thing in case of his death: that the government look after his mother. It did.

And what about Vanderbilt's plans to build a canal across Nicaragua? The canal finally got built some 60 years later, but in Panama. And not by Vanderbilt's company.

A risk worth taking: Visit Bogota, Colombia

By Diana Rowe

“The only risk is wanting to stay” is an in-your-face tourism slogan that hails the return of Colombia as a travel destination. When I was invited to visit, all I knew about this South American country was my distant memory of it being a boiling pot of civil conflict, mostly drug related. Even with this image in my mind – and several warnings from friends (What are you thinking?! You’ll be kidnapped!) -- I packed my bags, intrigued by a country with an enticing tagline. 

Located 2.5 hours from Miami, Colombia is ready for discovery. Last year total visitor arrivals grew more than 10 percent, with 23 percent of those from the U.S. Nestled high in the Andes at more than 8,000 feet,  Bogotá, D.C. (Distrito Capital), Colombia’s capital and largest economic center, is a city of contrasts, graceful churches, towering skyscrapers, universities, theaters and shantytowns. The old city is a hodgepodge of  colonial architecture, museums and street vendors, thieves and beggars – but what city isn’t?

Home to nearly 8 million people, Bogotá is on the move, no longer a place to avoid. Colombia’s capital launched a clean-up campaign and improved its security. Its military maintains a strong presence roaming the streets. Entry into public buildings requires a search by uniformed and armed private security officers with sniffing dogs, initially a bit overpowering but a necessity for a people that took their country back . 

The diversity of Colombia was my first surprise when landing in Bogotá, loading my bags into a van and driving to our first stop. Its ethnic influences of Spanish, English and Indian make it a colorful city filled with disorderly traffic. The city streets wind and circle around 20 distinctive yet random districts hugging a square or plaza, the social heart of many Latino neighborhoods, more like villages than neighborhoods. A breath of nature into this urban city is found in its many parks and green areas, refreshingly out of place amongst the bustling traffic and business districts.

Bogotá’s efforts to sell itself as an international destination include carefully named zones: Zona G for gourmet in Rosales, Zona C for Candelaria and Zona T for nightlife district. Most travelers spend their time in or around historic La Candelaria, a pleasant quarter of cafés, churches and museums, but pay attention to how you get there. At every turn, the city exhibits a different and exciting personality, a merging of cultures, yet uniquely its own.

Here a shantytown with brightly colored laundry bravely salutes the Andes Mountains in the distance. There shopping malls, elegant churches, historic museums and soaring skyscrapers dot the view. Down an unassuming street into the up-and-coming bohemian neighborhood of La Macarena, single family homes huddle together, many listed on Colombia’s historic registry. A new hotel, Ibis Bogota Museo, stretches tall next to a cobblestoned sidewalk that leads to a gem of a restaurant, Leo Cocina Y Cava.

Renowned Cartagena native and ground-breaking female proprietor-chef Leonor Espinosa successfully serves Colombian-fusion dishes to her guests in a renovated historic home. Sassy statues of salsa-inspired female statues adorn the wall, and the décor proudly displays bright pinks, yellows and reds in the bar and seating nooks of this renovated home. From sea bass wrapped in banana leaves, to grilled prawns over cilantro risotto, to raw tuna encrusted with Santanderean ants (a Colombian specialty which I couldn’t bring myself to sample) – no wonder I tumbled into my comfortable digs at the Radisson Royal Hotel Bogota.

A visit to Bogota wouldn’t be complete without a road trip to the city of Zipaquirá and the first wonder of Colombia: the Salt Cathedral  (Catedral de Sal de Zipaquirá). It's a day's ride away into the Andean highlands, providing plenty of visual distraction. Still primarily an agricultural area, dairy cattle graze there and greenhouses produce bundles of cut flowers for the international market, roses and carnations in particular. In fact, Colombia is the world's second largest producer of roses and employs more than 250,000 in that business, mostly women. Some 80 percent of the flowers are exported to the U.S.

A popular tourist destination and a religious Mecca to Catholics (although not an “official” cathedral), the Salt Cathedral is an underground Roman Catholic Church, etched inside the tunnels of a working salt mine by working miners built 265 feet underground. The carvings are located in various corridors and sanctuaries and so inspiring that you almost hear the angels sing. (The church welcomes 3,000 visitors on Sunday and thousands on Holy Week, so unless you like the crowds, avoid those dates.)

After a couple of hours wandering the underground salt mines, you’ll work up a hunger. Save it for a stop just outside Bogota in Chia at a Colombian restaurant icon, The Andres Carne de Res Restaurant. Surrounded by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Colombian ornaments and handicrafts, you’ll be seated at wooden tables with benches, where hand-painted mugs dangle from the ceiling over your head. Andres specializes in grilled meats, served to you sizzling on a plate, cooked to order and absolutely scrumptious. But bring your appetite or request a half order. Arrive later and it’s also a vibrant nightclub and locals' hangout.

For a bird’s-eye view of Bogota, take the cable car to the sanctuary of Monserrate and enjoy a panoramic view of the downtown of the city from one side and the Andean mountain range on the other. Then dine at the adjacent Casa San Isidro, a French restaurant that dates back to 1928.

Bogata might not sweep you off your feet at first, but as you wander around this historic city and its captivating foothills, take some time to dine in its cafes, step into its museums and churches, chat with the locals. Before you know it, the city has wrapped its arms around you in a big Colombian welcome.

Getting there: Several major airlines offer nonstop flights to Colombia from U.S. gateways such as Miami, Houston, and New York City.

Staying there: International chains are returning with Radisson, Hilton and Marriott leading the charge. Among popular properties is the JW Marriott Bogota Hotel, located in the city’s financial district, but most importantly steps from the Avenida Chile shopping mall and near the fine restaurants of “Zona G.” 

More info: Visit Colombia Tourism at http://www.colombia.travel/en/

Photo credits: Colombia Tourism.

Disney’s newest ship: Dreams come true for all ages

By Robert N. Jenkins

bobjenkinswrites.com

It’s getting so a cruise passenger can’t even stroll the 1,115-foot-long ship in private without launching interactivity.

Which is exactly what the creative gang at the Walt Disney conglomerate, the Imagineers, has been planning for years.

The venue is the company’s first new ship since 1999, the 4,000-passenger Disney Dream. It began sailing from Port Canaveral, Fla., on Jan. 26. And aboard this vessel, technology rules, in clever and entertaining ways.

For instance, in 22 places along the corridors of the Dream, framed images from classics such as Bambi and Fantasia are actually LCD screens. They change -- thanks to motion detectors -- from a static image to several seconds of the film when passengers approach. Soon, facial recognition software will ensure that individual guests see a different loop the next time they approach the frame.

Passengers can even play detective, solving different mysteries by passing a special card in front of some of those frames, which read a bar code on the card and then display a clue.

Speaking of animation, a starring role aboard the ship goes to Crush, the surfer-dude sea turtle from Finding Nemo. A few years ago, the Imagineers introduced an interactive version of Crush to the theme parks: Youngsters face a huge LED screen, onto which the animated turtle swims. He asks specific kids their names, jokes with them, answers their questions.

On the ship, Crush reprises this act on a 103-inch plasma screen in the Oceaneer’s Club, hangout for the 3- to 10-year-old set. But Crush is also the headliner in the Animator’s Palate, one of three restaurants passengers use on a planned rotation for dinners.

When diners enter, the 696-seat Palate is decorated as a studio where Walt Disney and his colleagues might have worked in the 1930s. Giant pencils and paint brushes stand upright in the room, while wallboards hold notes and character sketches.

But during the meal, the room changes, seemingly submerging into the waters occupied by Crush and his undersea pals. On more than 100 TV monitors of varying sizes, these creatures flit about, and Crush visits with diners in nine sections of the room.

While youngsters pick up on Crush immediately, adults unfamiliar with him are sometimes caught off-guard when he questions them directly: “Yo, dude in the red shirt! How’s it going, man? Where are you from? … Dude? Red-shirt guy?’’

The technological innovations are not all child’s play aboard the Dream:

-- Seven large “windows’’ of the Skyline bar each day show a different cityscape – New York, Rio or Paris, for instance – though the ship sails to none of these places. Light or shadows play out in real time during the day as the sun crosses above that city, and sharp-eyed viewers can see cars moving on the streets. The windows are actually LED screens.

-- Inside cabins, which have no actual window on the world, do have a live view of the what’s happening outside the hull, courtesy of five high-definition TV cameras. The playful Imagineers also have arranged that one of three dozen animated images randomly flashes on to the real picture. You might see Peach, the starfish from Nemo, or characters seeming to trot around the inside frame of the “porthole.’’

Those LED screens were a clever plan by cruise executives: “Ordinarily, inside cabins are those least-desired by passengers,’’ Karl Holz, cruise line president, told reporters onboard in mid-January. But when word spread over the Internet about the “virtual portholes,’’ the inside cabins quickly sold out.

What’s likely to become the Dream’s icon is hard to miss: the 765-foot long, enclosed waterslide named the AquaDuck.

Mounted 150 feet above the waterline and passing down both sides of the ship, the water coaster is a transparent tube, 54 inches in diameter, through which pumps force more than 9,000 gallons of water. Passengers sit on two-person rubber rafts and are immediately thrust into a 360-degree loop that carries them over the side of the ship for about 12 feet, before returning them to the first long, straight part of the ride.

They pass through the forward funnel, then again parallel the hull for another 335 feet, before ending about 46 feet below where they started.

The general design of the Dream avoids the current boxy look of mega ships, with a pronounced prow and an added curve of metal sweeping down several decks of staterooms, near the stern. 

Interiors blend touches of Art Nouveau, Art Deco and of course, Disney whimsy. There’s no chance passengers will forget that the parent company grew from cartoons to beloved, full-length animated films.

There’s plenty to amuse adults, too, such as four themed bars – a sports pub, a champagne bar, etc. -- plus a disco, grouped in the area termed The District, and adults-only fine-dining restaurants, one Italian, one French.

The Italian restaurant is the 118-seat Palo, already a fixture on the Disney Magic and Disney Wonder. This venue alternates rich fabrics on its banquettes, displays its wines in custom-made leather holders, and its private room has a window on the kitchen. Dinner here is a $20 surcharge per person.

More upscale is the French room, Remy, which seats just 65 for once-a-night servings designed to last three hours. It boasts a pair of five-course dinners on a menu designed jointly by a French chef with two Michelin stars and by the American chef responsible for consistently earning five AAA diamonds and five Mobil stars for the Victoria and Albert restaurant, in the Disney parks’ Grand Floridian hotel.

Said V&A chef Scott Hunnel, Remy’s kitchen eschews gas for electricity, because open flame is not allowed on the ship. This changes some cooking times but, Hunnel added, “Some of the apparatus is better than we have in the landside kitchens.’’

Though Remy takes its name and even some deft design elements from a rat who is the leading character in the animated film Ratatouille, there’s no kidding around about the price: $75 per person for just the food, $99 if you also want the wine pairings.

Still, the purposely limited capacity of the gourmet restaurants means relatively few members of the average shipload of passengers is going to leave the Dream happily recalling a meal there. Instead, it is the clever gadgetry, big and small, that they’ll be telling friends about.

Just as the Disney executives planned: “The best part of having designers and Imagineers working at our parks is being able to bring their knowledge to the ships,’’ said Bruce Vaughn, executive vice president of the Imagineers. “We have to pack it differently onboard because of space considerations, but we have the guests with us longer.’’

Added the company’s senior president for creative services, Joe Lanzisero:

“We’re creating the future – things never seen before.’’

More info: http://disneycruise.disney.go.com.

Photo credits: Images by Robert N. Jenkins unless otherwise indicated.

Special report from Bavaro Beach

By Bob Schulman

The Dominican Republic, Island of Hispaniola – Foreigners have been coming to this central Caribbean country for over 500 years, at first on the rickety caravels of Christopher Columbus and today on jets from around the world. Covering the eastern two-thirds of the island (Haiti is on the western third), the Dominican Republic has become the Caribbean's top tourism destination, boasting pristine white beaches, hundreds of lavish resort-hotels and eye-popping historical attractions – including the oldest colonial cities in what the Spanish invaders called “the New World.”

One of the country's big headline-makers these days is an immense development among the 90 or so hotels on Bavaro Beach, a 30-mile-long strip of powdery sands running down the east coast of the Republic. Called the Barcelo Bavaro Beach Resort, the new property occupies a five-square-mile site and has three hotel sections, all told offering close to 2,000 rooms.

Technically, the Barcelo Bavaro is a reborn resort, having been originally opened in 1985 – but as something several notches down from the top-of-the-line property it is today. Completely facelifted over the last year at a cost of $250 million, everything on the property has been dramatically upgraded, from turning its lodging areas into tropical palaces to remodeling its 1,300-seat theater and its 5,000-person convention center, now one of the largest in the Caribbean.

And for many guests, the frosting on the Barcelo cake is a brand new 18-hole P.B. Dye Signature golf course.

The first of the resort's three hotel sections is the Barcelo Bavaro Palace Deluxe – the Palma de Mallorca-based chain's premium lodging product – with 1,366 posh rooms, mostly with two-person Jacuzzis on terraces looking out on a mile and half of beachfront. The other two are the adults-only Barcelo Bavaro Beach and Convention Center with 388 rooms, and the 236-room Barcelo Bavaro Casino section.

Getting hungry? Thirsty? Guests staying in all three sections have a choice of 17 restaurants and 13 bars, all available on on all-inclusive plan -- which means your room tab covers all you can eat and drink until the cows come home. It also gives you comp access to all kinds of land and water sports, and at night free shows in a theater straight out of the big rooms in Vegas. (Don't miss their Broadway-quality production of Cats.)

Several of the restaurants feature international gourmet-class dishes with long names sprinkled with al's, alla's, avec's, con's, de's, di's, e's and the like.

                

Part of the fun of staying at the resort is getting to know fellow guests from  countries around the globe. Listen close, and you'll hear people chatting away in dozens of languages. English and Spanish are heard a lot, but you might be surprised at the numbers of people soaking up the Caribbean sun while speaking in Russian, German, French and Italian.

Right now most Americans get to the resort on nonstop flights to the nearby Punta Cana International Airport from major air hubs in the east and south, such as Chicago, New York, Newark, Philadelphia, Atlanta and Miami, having either begun their trips at those terminals or made enroute flight connections there.

With the recent opening of the Barcelo Bavaro and other new developments there, resort officials are hopeful of getting nonstop air service from western U.S. hubs as well. “Los Angeles would be a real winner,” said one marketing executive.

The Bavaro resort is one of more than 180 Barcelo properties in 17 worldwide countries. The company has four other locations in the Dominican Republic.

More info: Visit Barcelo's home page at www.Barcelo.com and the Dominican Republic Ministry of Tourism at www.godominicanrepublic.com.

Photo credits: Images by Bob Schulman unless otherwise noted.

New in Ocho Rios: A jewel of a resort

Story and photos by Barbara Penny Angelakis

Travel Features Editor, LuxuryWeb Magazine
(www.luxuryweb.com)

There’s a new kid on the block and its name is The Jewel Dunn’s River Beach Resort & Spa. This gem of a resort is an adults-only, all-inclusive, luxury property situated on the white sandy beach in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, and just a few minutes from its namesake, the fabulous Dunn’s River Falls.

Ocho Rios means eight rivers – although in reality there are only four – and Dunn’s River Falls is a natural cataract located where the Dunn’s River meets the Caribbean Sea. You can climb up the rock-strewn falls for a truly unique adventure, or walk up the steps from a relatively dry perspective while watching a human chain slipping and sliding on the rocks as they wind their way to the top; either way it’s a rare treat.

But location to the falls is an incidental plus to the brilliance of The Jewel. Besides its beach attractions, the resort sports a beautifully designed pool complex with meandering waterways and clustered seating areas – to cater to different tastes for quiet or partying – swim-up bars, and its own mini-version of the Dunn’s River Falls, which when lit at night makes a gorgeous setting for a romantic dinner for two at the gazebo situated on top.

The Jewel offers several different types of accommodations and levels of service. There are the Emerald Lanai garden units on two levels located near the spa, the exercise open-air pavilion, the tennis courts and of course the lovely, verdant garden paths. Then there is the Sapphire six-story wing which is connected to the main building that also houses the lobby, bars and restaurants, and the five-story Diamond stand-alone building with upgraded butler and concierge service available.

All the rooms have recently undergone, or are in the process of being refurbished, with bright jewel-colored fabrics and lush comfortable bedding. All rooms and suites have balconies or patios facing the water or the mountains and are large enough to enjoy meals in privacy. Each room has elegant amenities such as a four-poster king-sized bed (with welcoming pineapple carvings on the posts), individually controlled air-conditioning, in-suite safe, daily stocked mini-bar and nightly turn-down service, along with all the other conveniences that you would expect from a luxury hotel.

There are six restaurants and five bars giving you the option of fine dining in air-conditioned comfort, or al fresco if you prefer balmy Jamaican breezes…your choice. The Coral Café serves breakfast, lunch and dinner while the Platinum serves gourmet International fare with white-gloved service for dinner. The Moonstone offers Italian food, while the Jade Samurai entertains with Japanese style, cooked-to-order at table, festive dinners. And for those special occasions, dinner can be served under the stars on the boardwalk or the aforementioned gazebo, both for an extra fee.

At anytime during the day the Aquamarine Grill is open for burgers and salads, while the Court Jester serves pizza and snacks. Bars start serving drinks at 10 a.m. and continue until 2:30 a.m. During the day you can avail yourself of friendly camaraderie at the swim-up bar poolside, or on the beach, and for those honeymooners or romantics who prefer privacy, room service is always available. Regardless of your preference you will be accommodated by smiling, friendly staff, eager to make your stay as enjoyable as possible.

The moment you arrive at The Jewel you are warmly greeted by a smiling attendant offering you a refreshing cool towel and your choice of the “Gem of the Day” cocktail or a flute of champagne. The day I arrived they were serving “Golden Lady,” a delicious concoction of coconut rum, creme de banana, pineapple juice and ginger… yum! And while I settled into a comfortable chair to cool off, another attendant painlessly registered me and handed the keys to a bell hop to accompany me to my luxurious room in the Diamond wing.

The Jewel is an all-inclusive resort with food and drink available at any time day or evening and fun activities and games to participate in – or not...again, your

choice. I really appreciate the offer without pressure to join in so that if all you want to do is luxuriate around the pool, or read a book while sipping a rum punch…indulge yourself and do just that! But for those looking for excitement and adventure, there are tours outside the hotel to delight, such as swimming with the dolphins at Dolphin Cove where you can interact with the patient, intelligent, magnificent animals, at your level of comfort.

Or you can visit Mystic Mountain and ride a chairlift to the peak, soaring 700 feet above the sparkling Caribbean Sea. From there, hop into a dizzying, 1,000-meter gravity-driven bobsled to zoom through the treetops (you control the speed of descent) or fly through the tropical rainforest canopy on a zipline…or do it all, day or night!

Or simply indulge yourself at the Radiant Spa and surrender to the soothing strokes of a well-trained therapist while your body is treated to one of their three signature essential aromatic oils blended specially for your treatment: lemongrass, ginger or peppermint. I enjoyed a Jewel Signature Massage with Lonia, using my aromatic oil of preference, lemongrass. The relaxing treatment rebalanced my aching muscles and the scent of the lemongrass lingered on my skin leaving me feeling refreshed and renewed.

Wanting more after such a lovely experience, I returned to Radiant Spa for an individualized facial, based on my skin type and age, with Kadene. It left me looking and feeling years younger and wishing I had time to luxuriate in the large indoor hot-tub room with its alternating multi-colored lights and handsomely painted walls.

Jacque Giscombe, the Radiant Spa manager, treated a group of us to a “Sparty” on the Spa terrace, where she plied us with martinis made from some of the treatment options available, such as a Brown Sugar Martini (used to exfoliate) Lemongrass Martini (signature scent mixed to order) and my favorite, Coffee Martini (used for body wrap and bath). Jacque shared her dream of enlarging and enhancing the spa as part of the ongoing refurbishing the hotel is undergoing, and I look forward to seeing the fulfillment of her desire to make the Radiant Spa the best on the island.

More info: Visit www.jeweldunnsriverresort.com.

New in Cancun: A gem of a spa

By Bob Schulman

They make you look classy, but did you know that precious gems like diamonds, jade, amethyst and amber have natural healing powers, too? So say the folks at the new Fiesta Americana Grand Coral Beach Gem Spa in Cancun, who've anted up $6 million to debut what they call “the first gem-inspired spa in Latin America.” 

Your journey to sheer bliss starts off with a 10-step Hydrotherapy Ritual aimed at loosening you up for the main event later on. The hot-cold-hot-cold conditioning circuit, which lasts for a couple of hours, goes like this:

First comes a sit-down in a steam room where “your tensions melt away as you breath in the soothing scents of eucalyptus.” From there you cool off in a multi-jet “invigoration shower” before getting all steamed up again, this time in mists of burning clay, clay said to be a natural detoxifier that stimulates your skin.

After that you chill out in an “ice room,” and then pop into a sauna to get your temps back up. Next comes – you guessed it – a cool-down under a “rain shower,” after which there's some bubbly time in a hot Jacuzzi. From there you take a dip in a “polar pool” where “fresh and warm waters combine to create a sensory-driven experience.” After that comes a walk on pebbles amid water cascades to put the final loosening touches on your legs and feet.

At last, you're ready for the main event: massage treatments using the healing elements of gem stones from three regions of the world (eastern Mexico's Riviera Maya, the South Pacific and Asia, and the Baltic area).

The 40,000-square-foot spa's crown jewel comes in one of 26 treatment rooms, where for the next 50 to 80 minutes magic fingers work you over, kneading, sliding, rubbing, swirling, patting, stroking and probing, all in worlds of different gem stones, aromas, oils and lotions.

Perhaps you opted for the “Mayan Jade” four-hand massage, or the “Taino Sacred Obsidian” hot-stone massage, or the “Oriental Express” exfoliation experience, or the “Diamond Perfection” luxury facial, or maybe a traditional Russian massage with malachite stones. There's even a Mayan “Na-Yaah” maternity massage among the spa's dozens of treatments.

By the time your treatment ends, your body is something like a limp noodle and there's not a care in the world on your mind.

But the Gem Spa isn't done with you yet. Your state of bliss continues on an overstuffed couch in a relaxation lounge where you can nod off to a piped-in symphony of soothing flutes, wind chimes and whispers of elevator tunes.

Paying the piper: You'll walk away from the spa feeling light enough to float up to Cloud Nine. Your pocketbook will be a couple of hundred bucks lighter, too. 

About the hotel:  The Fiesta Americana Grand Coral Beach is an AAA Five Diamond luxury resort edging the Caribbean sands about midway along eastern Mexico's Cancun Island. Guests stay in 602 suites with private terraces overlooking the ocean and can dine in six restaurants at the resort.

More info: Visit the hotel at www.fiestaamericanagrand.com and the Gem Spa at www.gemspacancun.com.

Photo credits: Images courtesy of the Fiesta Americana Grand Coral Beach Gem Spa unless otherwise noted.

Italy’s waterworld

Story and photos by Susan McKee

Water is the reason for Venice. In prehistoric times, fishermen first settled on its islands to take advantage of easy access to the sea’s bounty. Then, in about the 5th century, barbarians from the north invaded the Italian peninsula. Anxious to avoid the marauders, mainlanders took refuge on the islands in the lagoon, protected somewhat from warriors on horseback.

Venice became a boom town as merchants and businessmen from the mainland joined the locals. Soon, the city-state about two miles off the coast was trading its wares up and down the Adriatic Sea and further into the Mediterranean, bringing exotic cargo from around the world back home. 

It’s the centuries of trading success of Venice that makes it a “must see” for tourists. Under the unique governmental style of the Doge, the city-state prospered for more than a thousand years.

Its sailors brought back priceless artifacts from across the known world. The bones of St. Mark were acquired in Alexandria in the 9th century. The famed four horses of San Marco were brought back from Constantinople about 1200. The wealth of its citizens attracted artists, sculptors, musicians, architects. Its population at one time exceeded that of London and Paris combined. As its citizens developed an eclectic culture, tourists arrived in droves – and still do.

 

Venice is known for its canals, but these aren’t the straight-shot transportation routes of man-made waterways in the United States. They’re organic routes, snaking between the islands and forcing pedestrian paths into unusual trajectories as they follow the contours of the ancient islands.

For the American tourist, used to the grid arrangements of towns and cities in the New World, it’s hard to keep track. Did I just walk east, or west, or? What seems like a straight shot across from, say, Piazza San Marco to the Rialto Bridge becomes an exercise in meandering. Fortunately, there are directional arrows on the sides of buildings at most crossroads.

It’s often recommended that tourists begin their walks at the Piazza San Marco. This is, of course, the most famous spot in Venice – where you'll find the basilica of St. Mark, the campanile and the Doge’s Palace. In the warmer months, you’ll find the “dueling” orchestras of Caffè Florian (which opened in 1720) and Caffè Quadri (dating to 1638) facing off across the square as tourists and locals sit and sip their coffee at the outside tables and listen to the music.

In addition to the ubiquitous pigeons and souvenir vendors, the Piazza includes a series of raised wooden walkways; when the tide is high, water bubbles up through the paving stones of the plaza, and washes over the walkway along the Grand Canal. The “temporary” walkways keep pedestrians out of the water.

 

Although I hit some of the high spots when I was in Venice, my favorite time in the city was spent just wandering. The shops offer everything from exquisite Murano glass to mass-produced masks. Carnevale, of course, is Venice’s signature holiday. For the fortnight leading up to Ash Wednesday, the partying is nonstop – this year's dates are February 26 through March 8.

The rest of the year, it’s evident that a mask is the signature souvenir of Venice. There are hundreds of vendors hawking the most awful imported versions. Find a shop selling the plain, white papier-mâché version – purists buy these and fashion their own disguises.

Artisans create unique masks, such as the one I bought at La Bottega dei Mascareri, near the northern (market) end of the Rialto Bridge. In this tiny studio/shop brothers Sergio and Massimo Boldrin, working in traditional papier-mâché, fashion the most amazing masks. Mine, in the shape of a mottled gold leaf, now hangs on my wall -- it's more art than mask.

Resist the impulse to stay on the mainland: Venice changes character in the evening, when all the day-trippers have left. I stayed at the elegant Hotel Danieli, just steps from the Piazza San Marco.

More info: A truly helpful website is Venice for Visitors: http://europeforvisitors.com/venice/, but you should also check the Tourist Board of Venice: http://www.turismovenezia.it/eng/

“A Soothing Salve”

By Mark McIntosh

I was driving toward my darling girlfriend's place when thoughts steered toward my teenage daughter. An amazing eighth-grader full of so much: potential, beauty, intelligence, hormones and, most scary, a fascination with boys. Ugh.

Since I'm such an annoyance these days - what father of a teenage girl isn't? - the call goes unanswered. I wonder, is the talented volleyball player staring at her phone pondering, "Nah, I have no desire to talk with my old man."

I listen to her maturing voice inform me to leave a message. I oblige with the following: "Sweetie, this is your old man. I know things have been a bit rough of late with the 'boy' thing, but please don't get caught up in the drama. It's just not worth it."

For whatever reason my mind jumps to an old song I remember singing years ago on the elementary school playground. It was a goofy song boys would sing about girls and then, girls would sing right back at us:

"Boys are made of goofy, goofy gopher guts, mutilated monkey butts; chopped up parakeets, french fried eyeballs swimming in a pool of blood, that's what boys are made of."

I'm sure, thank goodness, that song is rarely, if ever, uttered today on school playgrounds. It came back to my vividly when thinking of my daughter's introduction to the wild and wacky world of relationships: a roller coaster ride with unexpected and unwanted twists and turns along the way. I finished singing that silly song, included "Love ya Sweetie" and one final thought: "I know it's real easy for me to say 'don't get involved in the drama' but also know, easier said than done."

I parked the car and, for a brief moment, sat in stillness contemplating what I had just said to one of two - her older brother the other - people I think about constantly hoping and praying for their well being, Parents do that concerning kids, right?

We want to protect them from pain, of any kind - even middle school crushes. At the same time we know it's all part of the journey and rarely can be avoided. I hope she realizes she's not alone. We've all been there. If then hits me, a reminder of one of life's most important truths: When crappy stuff happens, we often feel isolated, regardless of our age.

In moments of "Why me?" when forced to confront life's lemons, reaching out to other like-minded folks takes courage, do it. Be vulnerable, bold and encouraging. Give hope and confidence to, and draw strength from, others who share similar experiences. It's a soothing salve - home, work and elsewhere - for what ails us. Someday I hope darling daughter embraces that truth.

“Honor Be Our Clothing”

By Mark McIntosh

I was standing in the back of the jammed-packed auditorium the day the Denver Broncos announced Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway was returning to the team, 12 years after his playing days ended, as its director of football operations.

But my eyes were more transfixed on owner Pat Bowlen than Elway. The two of them, along with team president Joe Ellis, sat before the horde of media, organization personnel and others gathered. The press conference was to formally introduce the legendary icon as the guy in charge of turning around the once-proud franchise's sad state of affairs when it comes to winning football games.

Bowlen, who had not spoken in public for more than a year ended his brief comments, in introducing Elway, with: "Many years ago, after the first Super Bowl win, I said, 'This one's for John.' Maybe now with John in charge, someday he will say, 'This one's for Pat'."

It was a powerful statement from the Broncos long-time owner who, at 67 years old, is battling health issues most believe result from dementia or Alzheimer's. The Broncos have publicly stated Bowlen has "memory issues" but have not been more specific. As Elway walked toward Bowlen and gave him a warm embrace, it stirred my soul.

Something in that big hug from the most-famous player in franchise history to the owner who built one of the most respected organizations in professional sports, tugged at my heartstrings. It resonated with Elway's "can do" spirit and seemed to say the 50-year-old father of four will do everything in his power to grant Bowlen's wish of seeing another Broncos' Super Bowl victory in his lifetime.

When we are inspired to achieve great things in a way that honors others and self. Man, does it get any better than that? To possess a burning desire, in every fabric of our being, to accomplish something, healthy and productive, that means so much to so many, that's playing like a champion.

Ya know, that type of passion is not reserved solely for a former quarterback trying to resurrect a sagging football franchise and ensure the legacy of a fantastic owner. We can tap into that type of passion to become superior to our former selves at home, work or elsewhere. The venues change, but - my opinion here - the strategies for success are the same.

It starts with realizing the value of chasing dreams and goals that, while good for us, more important, honor others. This week, try and remember this: "If honor be your clothing, the suit will last a lifetime."

“A Prevailing Breeze”

By Mark McIntosh

It's the day of Christmas Eve 2010 and like Santa, I have just emerged from an afternoon nap, my good buddy's down having a beer before his darling wife, Kerry, and this knucklehead from Pueblo, Colorado, host Kerry's Christmas gathering for her side of the family.

It was actually a Friday, but felt like a Saturday, which is usually when the business consultant and I have a beer, watch some sports, catch up and exchange ideas. It's a moment I cherish each week. Connecting with my buddy. It's a good thing, connecting with others. I highly recommend it.

Anyway, we're talking about a conversation I had earlier in the day. The conversation, with my older sister, revolved around a family challenge we share with many: aging parents. Fiercely independent in spirit, but let's be honest, in need of close monitoring

As I'm driving on a beautiful Colorado morning, after just retrieving my computer from its caretaker, Sister Sue says, "Would you be willing to come back home (Kansas City) and help with this?" For the record, the beautiful singer and long-time boyfriend Eldon, offered frequent flier miles as a promotion I accepted without hesitation.

But it wasn't until later in the day, when relaxing with my buddy, that the enormity of the opportunity became crystal clear. Do you remember the 1989 Academy Award winning film, Driving Miss Daisy? Well, I want to go back to my hometown of Kansas City and drive my aging mother around the city and help her. It's been tough being 600 miles away in the Mile High City, incredibly busy and feeling something tugging at you, saying, "You need to help."

Man, for me, when feeling what Emerson called the "vibration of the iron string within" and then choosing to ignore? I just don't know how smart an idea that is. But, hey, I'm just a simple dude from Missouri. I've been called a lot of things in life. Smart has rarely been one of them.

An eternal force, I can choose to ignore, is calling me to take some weekends, fly back to Kansas City and drive someone, who supported all my childhood dreams, to appointed rounds. Where can I sign up for a gig like that? My mother. As she would say, "they threw away the mold" when she entered this world June 28, 1935. Patsy Sue Perry at birth and Pat McIntosh when I was born and raised is a piece of work. "Born the same day as John Elway" is what she'll frequently remind me during our weekend calls.

Since my parents divorce, during my high school years, the smart and feisty woman has gone by Patsy Perry, her maiden name. I'm going back to my hometown and driving Miss Patsy. I have no idea if it might encourage progress in resolving our family challenges, but shame on me for not trying.

Whenever blessed to have somebody who will listen, I have always talked about "putting fear aside and allowing wonderment to win." Can I ask a favor? Wish me luck on this adventure, will ya? Mac's heading home to walk his talk and knows having, as a prevailing breeze, your encouragement - hope and confidence - will help.

A prevailing breeze, encouragement from others, is rarely a bad thing, costs little and sure means a lot for the recipients. Try it this week. I promise, you'll like it.

Resort Report: Barcelo Maya Beach

By Bob Schulman

Wandering around the thatched-roof walkways of this sprawling resort on the Mexican Caribbean you get an idea of what it must have been like in the Mayan cities that once flourished in the jungles here. Only instead of pyramids scattered around the two-mile-long site there are hotels – five of them, with over 2,700 rooms – and instead of a ceremonial center there's a convention center. And a disco.

Also sprinkled along the resort's powdery white beaches are 24 restaurants, 19 bars, five swimming pools, three theaters and a state-of-the-art spa.

Welcome to the Barcelo Maya Beach Resort, the Barcelo hotel chain's Mayan-inspired masterpiece on the Riviera Maya.

An immense tile painting of the great Mayan god Kukulcan greets guests checking in at the most luxurious of the resort's five hotels, the 756-suite Maya Palace Deluxe. Next in descending opulence comes a pairing of the Maya Tropical and the Maya Colonial, and then another pairing, the Maya Beach and the Maya Caribe. All five properties are all-inclusive (which means you can eat and drink as much as you can hold during your stay, and it's all included in a flat rate for your room).

The Barcelo's restaurants – including a good number of gourmet quality – range from large buffet rooms to more intimate dining spots where the cuisine comes from Mexico, Asia, France, Italy, Brazil and the Caribbean. Yes, you can also get a cheeseburger or a hot dog with fries if that's your pleasure.

Some parts of the resort cater to youngsters, including special clubs and game rooms, while others are adult-friendly. In other sections, couples who come here to tie the knot – some 500 a year – can say their I do's along the beach or in the romantic setting of a gazebo surrounded by blue lights.

Guests needing a workout or a rubdown after a long day of soaking up the rays can drop by the resort's 16,000-square-foot spa and wellness center. In the spa area, you're invited to sample an innovative concept in treatments called “U Spa” in which guests receive specialized treatments based on their specific needs.

The Maya Beach Resort is one of more than 180 Barcelo hotels in 17 countries around the world.

More info: Visit www.barcelo.com.

Finding France in St. Louis

Story and photos by Susan McKee

www.SusanMcKee.com

St. Louis isn't only Judy Garland, Scott Joplin and Chuck Berry. There are layers upon layers of forgotten United States history hidden in this gentle bend of the Mississippi River just below the confluence with the Missouri.

Look at the name of the city. You know who St. Louis was, don't you? No? Born in 1214, he was Louis IX, king of France, from 1226 until his death in 1290. Yes, this very Midwestern city was named for one of the most revered French monarchs.

The French influence has been felt in this pocket of North America ever since the city's founding in 1764 by Pierre Laclède, a fur trader from France, and his illegitimate son, René Auguste Chouteau. They're the guys who laid out the town and named it for the Crusader king – the only member of the French monarchy ever to be declared a saint.

Although the area became part of the Spanish Empire in 1763 (after the French were defeated in the Seven Years' War), in 1800 the land was secretly transferred back to France. That's how Napoleon Bonaparte came to have title to the Louisiana Territory and could sell it to the United States in 1803.

Fast forward a couple of centuries, and the French influence on St. Louis remains apparent, even if not one structure from its origins remains standing (frequent fires and urban renewal both laid waste to the buildings dating to that early settlement).

Take the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis, for example. Named after guess-who, it recounts the life of the Crusader king in its vestibule. Although consecrated in 1926, its lavish mosaic interior wasn't completed until 1988. An earlier church, the Basilica of St. Louis, King of France, also celebrates the city's namesake. The first cathedral west of the Mississippi, it was dedicated in 1834 – the

third church building on the downtown site just west of where Laclède's house originally stood.

A group of St. Louis area volunteers, Les Amis, is hard at work at codifying a Creole Corridor that encompasses both sides of the river – a driving trail connecting settlements and fortification sites from this early French era in middle America.

On the Illinois side of the river, the trail includes the Church of the Holy Family outside Cahokia. Founded in 1699, it's the oldest continuously operating Roman Catholic parish in the U.S., and the oldest church west of the Allegheny Mountains. Although the original structure burned in 1783, the current vertical-log church has been in use since 1799 (a Tridentine mass is celebrated at 9 a.m. each Sunday).

Back in Missouri, check out the lobby of Powell Symphony Hall. The grand foyer and lobbies, replete with mirrors and crystal chandeliers, are modeled after Versailles. St. Louis' City Hall, built in 1873, is styled after the city hall in Paris. St. Louis Union Station (1894), was designed to look like a French fortress.

A sculpture of Saint Louis greets visitors outside the main entrance to the St. Louis Art Museum (it was commissioned for the 1904 World's Fair, the subject of "Meet Me in St. Louis" starring Judy Garland). Bissinger's French Confections, in St. Louis since 1927, got its start in Paris in the 1600s.

Descendants of French settlers created Soulard, one of St. Louis' oldest neighborhoods. Known for its brick row houses, music clubs, corner taverns and farmers market, it's also the birthplace of the city's Mardi Gras celebrations – one that rivals that in New Orleans.

The festivities, which start as tradition dictates on 12th Night (the twelfth day after Christmas, or January 6), include a "snow softball" tournament, Cajun cook-off and dachshund derby as well as a Mardi Gras parade on the Friday evening before Ash Wednesday.

Right now, a special exhibition in the Missouri History Museum (www.mohistory.org/ ) spotlights the "Treasures of Napoléon." Although the emperor was not, personally, in St. Louis, he did sell it to the U.S. as part of the Louisiana Territory. Running through April 3, this display features more than 300 objects from the First Empire, including personal effects, weaponry, clothing and jewelry belonging to Napoléon Bonaparte. It's just part of the personal collection of Pierre-Jean Chalençon, a Parisian who's been searching out items connected to the emperor since he was 17 years old.

And, then there's the food. It's still possible to find French cuisine in St. Louis. Popular bistros and cafés I've sampled include Herbie's Vintage '72 (www.herbies.com), Café Provencal (www.cafeprovencal.com/), Brasserie by Niche (www.brasseriebyniche.com), Chez Leon (www.chezleon.com), Franco (www.eatatfranco.com), Vin de Set (www.vindeset.com) and Cyrano's Café (www.cyranos.com).

More info: Visit the St. Louis Convention & Visitors Bureau (www.explorestlouis.com/).

A visit to Tlaquepaque

Story and photos by Patricia Alisau

Now that the December rush of gift giving is becoming a distant memory, why not zap crowded malls and long lines from your agenda and plan for stress-free holiday shopping on foreign shores? For next winter’s festive season, that is, when you can snuggle up in front of a fire with an eggnog instead of blitzing the stores in your pajamas for midnight specials. 

Pick any time of year for jetting down to Tlaquepaque (Tlah-kay-PAH-kay), one of Mexico’s famed shopping Meccas no more than a few hours away by plane from most U.S. gateways.  Foreigners are drawn to Tlaquepaque by what’s Mexican. Mexicans come here for what’s cutting edge and international.

At first sight, few visions are as arresting as this quaint colonial village nestled within the urban sprawl of Guadalajara. Tlalquepaque may look like something you’d find in the countryside outside Madrid or Barcelona but this enclave of artisans is as much at home in the State of Jalisco as its tequila and Mariachis.

An arts and crafts center, it’s known for stylish hand-decorated ceramics (it’s considered the leading center of pottery production in the country) and hand-blown glass, especially red water glasses, dishes and decorative figures of animals in contemporary design. Metalworkers use bronze, tin and brass to create lamps, candelabra, picture frames and other home accessories as well as imposing sculptures. Exquisite jewelry, silver and copperware, hand-carved wooden furniture and hand-woven clothing are other offerings. Several hundred shops – many of which are run by families with centuries-old traditions of craftsmanship – line charming pedestrian streets and plazas.                             

The artisan heritage of this town began around the 16th century when native Tonaltecan Indians began making decorated pottery from local claybeds. In 1821, the treaty ending the War of Independence between Mexico and Spain was signed here and the town gained national prominence. Afterwards, wealthy families from Guadalajara began building summer mansions, many of which have been turned into shops, galleries and restaurants. More jewelers, glass blowers and weavers arrived to set up workshops.

In the 1880s, a self-taught artist named Pantaleon Panduro exhibited his sculptures at the Paris Exposition, which jettisoned Tlaquepaque to international fame. Today, the plastic arts have grown way beyond Panduro in such names as Sergio Bustamante, one of the town’s celebrity artisans, who sealed his reputation with his whimsical, surreal sculptures, which are sold worldwide. His local gallery explodes with color, showcasing, in addition, engaging silver and gold jewelry and elegant custom-designed furniture.

Another local favorite is Agustin Parra who relies heavily on the unique Baroque style of 17th century Mexico in his carved wooden pieces and ceramic figurines. Specializing in sacred art, Parra fashioned a chair for Pope John Paul II during his visit to the country a few years back and has been commissioned by the Vatican to design nativity scenes.                              

Among sightseeing musts is the Panduro Pantaleon Museum, honoring the father of modern ceramics in Jalisco. Each June, the museum displays winning pieces from Tlaquepaque’s national ceramics contest, which fill several salons and some of which become permanent acquisitions. For a quick rundown on what’s what in the world of  local pottery, drop into the Regional Ceramics Museum, which exhibits different-colored clays and techniques used by area artists through the ages including the labor-intensive stoneware developed by the American ceramist Ken Edwards.

A colorful bit of history says that one owner of this old colonial house was known around town as Burro de Oro (Gold Donkey) because of his wealth from a gold mine and because he was practically illiterate. He supposedly used his wealth to attract 50 wives, which he dressed all alike. Apart from this eccentricity, he was a supporter of Maximillian, Mexico’s ill-fated French emperor of the 19th century. Inviting him to his home, he prepared for the visit by hiring 100 seamstresses to sew a canopy several miles long to shade the path of His Highness to the door. But, alas, the emperor never showed up.

Once a military barracks during the War of Independence, the 250-year-old Casa Historico (Historic House) is a typical palatial home of the period with 28 rooms and almost as many patios, where part has been sectioned off as a gallery with beautifully detailed miniatures of nativity scenes and Mariachi bands. You’ll be met by Salvador Martinez, who runs the gallery and who looks much younger than his 88 years. Attributing his good health to the ancient trees on the grounds, each day, he said, he wraps his arms around them, absorbing what he called their positive energy. Visitors are welcome to try it.

When you’re ready for a break from shopping and sight seeing, head to the famous El Parian for a margarita or meal served around a charming gazebo in an airy courtyard.  Mariachi musicians play continuously and the management claims it has the biggest bar in Mexico.

Staying there: Although there are a couple bed-and-breakfasts in Tlaquepaque, nearby Guadalajara – about a half-hour's drive away --  has more options for hotels.

More info:  The tourist information stand on the main square has brochures and guides to the area.

Free bi-lingual tours can usually be arranged by calling the Tlaquepaque Tourist Office at least a day in advance at 35-62-70-50, ext. 2320, 2321 or 2318. The tours last two to three hours. Tlaquepaque can be reached by taxi from downtown Guadalajara.

Slow boat between the continents

By Robert N. Jenkins

bobjenkinswrites.com

COLON, Panama – The horizon of this port on the Caribbean Sea is interrupted again and again by the hulls of immense freighters, a cruise ship or two, military vessels, a scattering of sailboats.

There is no horizon on the landside. Instead it is a series of giant walls built of cargo containers, interrupted here and there by immense cranes moving the containers to or from docked ships.

And everything you see, on land or water, is here for one reason: This is the north entrance to the Panama Canal, perhaps the greatest construction project ever.

It is at once a masterpiece of engineering and a blend of tragedy, scheming and an unimaginable amount of human effort. Numbers tell part of the story:

• - Cubic yards excavated: 268-million
• - Length of canal: 50 miles, plus its approach channels
• - Dimensions of each of 6 chambers that form 3 locks: 110’ wide by 1,000’ long
• - Average number of ships per year: 14,000
• - And finally, number of laborers’ deaths: more than 27,600, from accidents, landslides, malaria and yellow fever.

About 22,000 of those fatalities occurred in less than eight years, as a French company tried to construct a canal in the 1880s. Theirs was the first effort to create a shortcut between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

The French effort in Panama, at the time a territory of neighboring Colombia, was headed by Ferdinand de Lesseps, a former diplomat who had been successful years earlier heading the effort to build the Suez Canal. But that canal was built at sea level – no significant elevation to overcome, so it needed no locks to raise or lower ships.

The first Panama project was doomed to failure: The route chosen was saturated by rainwater – never a problem in the Suez – which caused repeated landslides. Plus, medical science had no realistic ideas about the prevention or cure of malaria and yellow fever.

The landslides, other accidents and disease killed about 22,000 of the West Indian laborers imported because they were more used to the tropical climate. The project did not stop in 1889 because of those deaths. Rather, the French company ran out of money.

About a decade later, the Frenchman who was the company’s chief engineer hired an American lawyer, to influence the U.S. Congress in choosing a path on Panama land owned by the company, rather than through adjacent Nicaragua.

The lawyer ultimately used a lie about volcanoes in Nicaragua to get Congress to vote for a Panama route. When Colombia rejected the U.S. plan, President Theodore Roosevelt dispatched warships that blocked Colombia from putting down a Panamanian rebellion. Panama quickly granted America the right to build and operate a canal.

In May 1904, work began, with the chief engineer selecting a different route – one not at sea level. Medical advances helped eliminate the diseases, and superior heavy equipment was utilized.

The first passage came in August 1914. The 1-millionth occurred in October 2010. And in 2014, construction should be complete on a third set of locks, on each end of the canal, to allow much larger vessels passage.

The 185-foot Pacific Explorer sailed for years under charter to Seattle-based Cruise West, which ceased operations last fall. I was onboard the 100- passenger ship last January on its usual excursion to the rainforests and islands of the Pacific Coast of Panama and Costa Rica.

Cruisin' the canal

 

In advance of my trip, the cruise company has paid $38,000 to the Panama Canal Authority, the operator, for passage.

On this trip, Capt. Hernan Lara receives a radio message to get in position at Colon in the afternoon. Shortly before 3 p.m., Eric Hendricks, one of 290 canal pilots, comes aboard Pacific Explorer.

With him are six workers who fasten thick cables to posts at the bow and stern, on both sides of the ship. In turn, these cables run to special locomotives, called mules. While transiting ships propel themselves, the 55-ton mules provide enough tension to keep the ship straight within the lock chambers.

Hendricks, a 22-year veteran, will be on the bridge the entire transit, talking alternately to the captain and, by walkie-talkie, to the mule drivers, who play out or tighten their cables and match Pacific Explorer’s speed of 2.1 miles per hour in the locks.

By 3:54, after a Japanese fishing vessel has come up behind the Pacific Explorer, the rear gates of the first chamber of the Gatun Locks’ three chambers begin to close. Matched by Canal Authority computers, these two ships will enter and exit each of the Canal’s six chambers in its locks.

Onshore, operators press buttons to move the 85-ton doors that open or close a chamber, front and back. Now, 3-million gallons of water per minute rush in to the chamber.

By 4:04, the cables on the deck posts are level with the cable-intake slots on the mules. Sensors alert the chamber operators that water pressure is equal on either side of the massive doors. At 4:05, the doors in front of the Pacific Explorer slowly swing open, fitting into the sides of the chamber.

The ship glides forward, and pilot Hendricks swivels his head from side to side, checking the ship’s position vs. the walls. Occasionally he lifts the walkie-talkie to issue instructions.

Once through the third and last chamber of Gatun Lock, the cables are removed from the posts. Capt. Lara increases the Pacific Explorer’s speed to begin the 23.4-mile passage through manmade Gatun Lake, to the next lock.

Hendricks now switches his attention to the screen of the laptop he brought aboard in a scuffed, yellow plastic case. The computer is programmed with an animated look-down view of the route.

At 9:20 p.m., the forward doors in the Miraflores Locks’ southernmost chamber swing open to the Pacific Ocean. Hendricks presses the button of his walkie-talkie: “Ones and twos, everybody cast off. Thank you.’’

More info: Go to www.pancanal.com, or send e-mail to info@pancanal.com. David McCullough’s Pulitzer Prize-winning The Path Between the Seas is a highly readable history.

Photo credit: All images courtesy of the Panama Canal Museum.

New England in a clamshell

Story and photos by Rich Grant

www.walkinganddrinkingbeer.com

No place epitomizes the New England of popular imagination better than the islands of Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard.

Located 20 miles off the south shore of Cape Cod in Massachusetts, Nantucket is a step back in time – a New England “theme park” filled with stately white sea captain houses, cobblestone streets, lighthouses, weather-beaten shingle cottages, flower boxes of pink geraniums, lobster pots and flying above it all, squawking sea gulls.

There are no fast food outlets, no neon signs and not a single stoplight on the 14- by 3.5-mile-long island. But there are bicycles – thousands of them. Bicycling is one of the easiest and best ways to get around, especially to the 100 miles of sandy beaches that ring the island, all of them open to the public.

At 9- by 23-miles-long, Martha’s Vineyard is slighter larger than Nantucket, but it’s also closer to the main shore, just 45 minutes by ferry from the mainland. There are two good-sized towns on the island, linked by bicycle paths. Edgartown, made famous by its Kennedy associations, is the quintessential New England seaport with shady streets of big white mansions, many with their own boat dock in the backyard. It offers a pleasant town center of brick sidewalks, bookstores and outdoor cafes.

Oak Bluffs is the island’s principal town. The main drag has a seashore honky-tonk atmosphere with electronic game rooms, ice cream parlors and t-shirt shops, but the back streets have a relaxing charm and are known for their brightly painted Victorian gingerbread cottages.

Although both islands have dozens of bed and breakfasts, cottages and wonderful old inns, staying there in the summer (when Nantucket’s population swells from 10,000 to 40,000) can be pricey and rooms hard to find.

An alternative is to stay in one of the many hotels on Cape Cod and visit Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard on day trips by ferry. From Hyannis Port, ferries sail the 20 miles of open water to Nantucket in two hours, adding a pleasant ocean cruise to the day. In summer, ferries depart as early as 7:30 a.m. and return as late at 9 p.m., so it’s possible to have a full day on the island.

For variety, another day can be spent on Martha’s Vineyard. Ferries go to Oak Bluffs or Edgartown. There are bike rentals in either town, so it’s easy to bicycle ride between them and much of the route is along pretty beaches.

From the mid-1700s to the late 1830s, Nantucket was the whaling capital of the world with as many as 150 whale ships based here. Voyages in search of sperm whales could last three years, taking Nantucket sailors to Africa, the Pacific and as far north as the Arctic Circle. Nantucket town (both the island and the main town are called Nantucket) became the third largest city in Massachusetts and the wharf was filled with warehouses storing whale oil. It was said that approaching from sea, you could smell Nantucket before you could see it.

The Whaling Museum on the harbor has hundreds of exhibits from the town’s whaling days. Inside, you learn that to catch a whale, a half dozen men would row a 25-foot boat for miles, creeping up on the 60-foot-long mammal until they could pierce its side with a harpoon attached to a rope. Then would begin what was called “the Nantucket Sleigh Ride” as the enraged beast pulled the whaleboat bucking and bouncing over the waves for miles, at speeds up to 20 knots.

The first harpoon wouldn’t kill the whale, but would tire it out. The whalers would pull the rope in until they could get close to the exhausted beast, then plunge a second harpoon into its heart. Cutting up the whale to boil its blubber for oil was backbreaking work. A foot square, eight-inch piece of blubber could weigh 400 pounds.

Herman Melville based his novel Moby Dick on the 1820 ramming of the ship Essex, which sailed out of Nantucket. Today, everything in Nantucket from seafood restaurants to shops still has a whaling theme. Icons of sperm whales, identified by their large, flat head, decorate Nantucket, from door knobs to weather vanes. The head of a sperm whale could contain up to 500 gallons of spermaceti, an oil that made fine candles. At its height, Nantucket had 36 candle factories, and the town is still filled with candle gift shops.

The upscale village attracts some of the world’s wealthiest visitors and shoppers, who stroll the brick sidewalks poking in the town’s many art galleries, antique stores and restaurants. But you don’t have to spend a fortune. There are many casual restaurants and pubs, or you can visit the Straight Wharf Fish Market, where they’ll cook up freshly caught fish for you to eat on a patio overlooking the water.

Several of Nantucket’s main streets are covered in cobblestones that originally served as ballast in sailing ships. They’re pretty to look at, but make for difficult biking downtown. However, the backstreets of the village are flat, lined with gorgeous houses and gardens, and easy pedaling.

Many of these historic, white ship captain’s houses have what is called a “walk” along the roof. The flat platform on the roof allowed occupants to pour sand down the chimney, but more important, they were used by wives to stare out to sea searching for returning whale ships. But Nantucket wives didn’t seem to pine too much for their husbands. An island song called the “Nantucket’s Girl’s Song” went:

Then I’ll haste to wed a sailor, and send him off to sea,

For a life of independence, is the pleasant life for me…

But when he says “Goodbye my love, I’m off across the sea,”

First I cry for his departure, then laugh because I’m free.

In Nantucket, you are also never far from a garden or flowers. The combination of sea air, sunshine and sandy soil make Nantucket a gardener’s dream. Seemingly every weather-beaten cottage has a flower box, and the streets are lined with flower baskets and public gardens.

Martha’s Vineyard is best known for the brightly decorated gingerbread cottages of Oak Bluffs. This area of town started as a Methodist campground retreat in 1835, but slowly the tents were replaced with tightly packed cottages.

Many famous people of the 19th century would “summer” in the cottages here, including Ulysses S. Grant. Despite its religious history, Oak Bluffs and Edgartown are the only two places on Martha’s Vineyard where you can purchase liquor – the other communities are dry. If you’re thirsty after a bike ride, try the Offshore Ale Company in Oak Bluffs, which has a wonderful IPA and a fine selection of beers.

Edgartown is where you can catch the three-car ferry to Chappaquiddick Island. The flat island has miles of bike trails. Edgartown’s lovely upscale town center has restaurants, nautical shops, clothing stores and a bookshop. It’s easy to picture the Kennedy family walking and shopping in town, and sailboats glide by in the distance.

More info: Nantucket: www.NatucketChamber.org; Martha’s Vineyard: www.MVTimes.com and www.mvy.com; ferries: www.islandferry.com/ssa/

The world’s top 10 train rides

By Bob Schulman

 

Whether it's the view of rugged canyons in the Rockies or just the fun of reliving the way people traveled in yesteryear, train rides on railways around the world are becoming more and more popular with vacationing boomers.

Ah, but where to go for the best rides? The answer comes from the Society of American Travel Writers, which polled its 1,150 globe-trotting members to come up with the 10 most memorable train rides.

Here's their picks along with some sample comments from the travel pros:

First-place honors went to The Rocky Mountaineer for its spectacular two-day journeys through the Canadian Rockies from Vancouver to Banff or Jasper. Says freelance travel writer Betsa Marsh:  "The Rocky Mountaineer is humbling...both for the monumental landscapes it slices through and the appreciation of the workers who risked – and sometimes gave - their lives to build it."  More info: www.rockymountaineer.com.

Runners-up, in descending order, were:

2.  The Glacier Express is a Swiss mountain railway famous for its awesome views of Alpine glaciers. The 7.5-hour ride from St. Moritz to Zermatt crosses 291 bridges and burrows through 91 tunnels. More info:  www.glacierexpress.ch.

3. The Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad winds through rugged canyons in the remote wilderness of Colorado's two-million-acre San Juan National Forest. The train is pulled by a coal-fired, steam-powered locomotive on the same narrow-gauge tracks traveled over a century ago by miners, cowboys and settlers of the Old West. More info: www.durangotrain.com.

4. The Bernina Express runs from Chur, Switzerland, to Tirano, Italy, passing from icy glaciers to palm-shaded piazzas in just a few hours. The highest rail crossing of the Alps, the line takes you over 196 bridges and through 55 tunnels.   "The Bernina Express takes your breath away before dropping you off in the marvelous little Italian village of Tirano," reports writer Stan Wawer. More info: www.rhb.ch.

5. PeruRail whisks through the Andes from Cusco to Machu Picchu. The train starts off in the foothills, then runs along along the Urubamba River before climbing up to Machu Picchu. You can choose from three types of trains: the mdestly priced Backpacker, the more expensive Vistadome and the luxurious blue and gold Hiram Bingham (named after the explorer who discovered the Inca citadel in 1911). More info: www.perurail.com.

6.  Alaska Railroad Corp.'s Coastal Classic Train winds through the wilderness between Anchorage and Seward. Massive glaciers can be seen as the train climbs into the Kenai Mountains and travels to the shores of Resurrection Bay for a convenient connection to Kenai Fjords National Park. More info: www.akrr.com.

7.  The Royal Scotsman rolls through the Scottish highlands' sweeping glens, towering peaks and mirror-calm lochs on two- to seven-night trips. Travel writer Steve Winston recalls memories of “Ancient castles. Misty moors. Stark cliffs, covered in black shadows from the clouds. Lochs. Chimneys sticking out of thatched roofs. And Rob Roy and Braveheart waiting beyond every turn." More info: www.royalscotsman.com.

8.  The Whistler Mountaineer in Canada is a three-hour ride along the magnificent coast of British Columbia from Vancouver to Whistler. Highlights of the trip include views of cities, old-growth forests, deep valleys, snowcapped peaks and seascapes. More info: www.whistlermountaineer.com.

9.  Mexico's El Chepe ventures into the imposing landscapes of the Sierra Tarahumara and into the famed Copper Canyon (four times the size of the Grand Canyon, and deeper). "(The ride) has it all: tall bridges crossing rivers, dozens of tunnels, a winding track that climbs high out of the canyon and, waiting for you at the end, the fascinating indigenous Tarahumara people," says Eric Lindberg, freelance travel writer/photographer. More info: www.chepe.com.mx.

10.  The Flam Railway is one of the highlights of FjordTours' "Norway in a Nutshell" tour. On the 12-mile trip from the mountain station of Myrdal down to the fjord at Flam you can enjoy incredible scenery ranging from a panorama of tall mountains to cascading waterfalls. The train moves slowly and stops at the best viewpoints to allow passengers to take picture. More info: www.norwaynutshell.com.

The Society of American Travel Writers is a professional association whose purpose is to promote responsible travel journalism, to provide professional support for its members and to encourage the conservation and preservation of travel resources worldwide. Its members include travel journalists and public relations representatives from the travel industry. More info on the society: www.satw.org.

Photo credits: Rocky Mountaineer, Durango & Silverton Railway, Alaska Railroad Corp. and the Royal Scotsman.

“Revvin’ for 2011”

At the holiday season we are reminded via television, radio, print and our souls, there are many less fortunate individuals in our world. For whatever reason, this year, when I watched, heard, read or thought about the less fortunate, my mind kept wandering back to a family of eight that lived in a cardboard shack in the Rio Grande Valley along America's border with Mexico.

I started my television sportscasting career at KGBT-TV, the CBS station in Harlingen, Texas, one of the three major cities - Brownsville and McAllen the others - of the Valley. 25 years ago, and I doubt it's changed much since, the four counties along the border were considered among the poorest in the United States. Each year, our station profiled families during "Christmas for the Needy" stories. As the weekend sports anchor assigned to document this family's plight, eight amazing people entered my life. I can't remember their names but I'll never forget them.

Their cardboard shack had no running water, electricity and little room. It was basically big enough for two king-sized beds and a couch. The parents didn't speak English and the young kids, six of them, struggled with it. After finishing, along with a bilingual photojournalist, interviewing and shooting some video of the family, we began the drive back to the television station. Thoughts of how to write this family's story raced through my head: desperately poor, uneducated, but, from what I saw in the two-hour visit, rich with something very important - love for one another.

We all know the facts. Children born into poverty face a steep uphill battle in gaining the education necessary to compete in today's global marketplace. For whatever reason, I then think of my kids. They were not born into poverty but were raised in another challenging situation: they're children of divorce.

As we turn the calendar, the challenges of children born into poverty and raised in divorce, continue to hamper our country from becoming superior to its former self. When are we going to, collectively with a united voice, address these issues, neither of which benefits kids, 25% of our population, 100% of our future.

There's an old saying: "There is always room for improvement." Amen to that. As a nation, we have many areas where America can improve, reducing poverty and divorce just two of them. What about us personally? Where might it be time for the excuses to stop about underachieving in terms of relationships, health, career or volunteering? A new year is upon us and with it, a chance to improve in ways that honor us, nurture those dependent upon us and add value to the communities we serve.

Let's get our motors revvin' for  2011. We've got a fresh 365 on the clock. Let's strive for improvement and play like champions - home, work and elsewhere!

“Our Life Stocking”

By Mark Mcintosh

It was a rare Saturday in December when there wasn't a holiday party to attend. There was one scheduled for the evening, at my darling girlfriend's house, but I wasn't invited. No, this was her annual "girls only" gathering and I was told to stay away.

The day was spent holiday shopping, writing, working out, running errands before heading to Longmont, Colorado, 25 miles north of Denver, to check in on an old buddy of mine. We first met years ago when his company sponsored a hole at a golf tournament where I was also a participant. By random chance I ended up being their "celebrity" member of the group. We had a blast that day and have been good buddies ever since.

The Peoria, Illinois native has always been a dreamer. I like that a lot about him. He's built several successful companies and always seems to have another idea waiting in the wings. He does a nice job of, as I like to say in Pep Talks, "putting fear aside and allowing wonderment to win."

But like all of us, the entrepreneur is not perfect. He has talked for the past year about writing his first book. Finally, after twelve months, we're seeing some action. It's my pleasure to occasionally make the short trip north and encourage the process. "Just start dumping" is what I usually tell him in trying to get his life story out of his brain and into, at least initially, a computer.

Evening was descending upon the day as we sat in the back of his retail shop and talked about jumpstarting his dream. In uncharacteristic fashion for this energetic father and husband, he's allowed fear and self-doubt to dominate courage and wonderment. He's been reluctant to start something healthy and productive that consumes a lot of his thoughts. Ever been there? I sure have.

So often in life we battle ourselves when it comes to chasing dreams and goals. We think constantly about something but do little, or nothing, about it. I believe two culprits hold us back: self doubt and ridicule. Our brains tell us, "you might fail" and our brain also tells us, if we share the idea, for validation, with someone else they might have a wide-eyed look of, "Are you crazy?" We trapped in this vice, created by our brain, between self-doubt and potential ridicule. It's a lousy location when your spirit inside is saying, "go for it!"

It's the holiday season of 2010, time to think of meaningful gifts for others. What about giving a gift to self this year? How about the gift of courage winning the, almost daily, battle against self-doubt and potential ridicule?

Courage. Self doubt. Ridicule. This holiday season may you unwrap the blessings of the first choice: courage. It's a gift. The other two are limiting beliefs we must try our best to keep from slipping into our life stockings.

 

Single? How To Survive the Holidays

Donna Marie Thompson, PhD.

It's hard to believe – but here we are. It's holiday time again - already.

It should be a joyous season – everyone around you seems to be so happy.   But if you are single and unattached at the holidays, is there a sense of dread beginning to set in?  Believe me, you are not alone.

How Did This Happen?

With families scattered all across the country, work and service commitments pulling us apart, the unfortunately high divorce rate, relationships increasingly on the rocks, many people are going  into the holidays single. But being single does not need to mean being alone.

Maybe this is your first time to be by yourself at the holidays. Or perhaps it is not and you vowed that things would be different this year. But the time has passed so quickly and – without warning – the holidays are here again in full force.

So What Can You Do to Make the Best of the Holiday Season?

It all depends on you. You could wait for your friends to invite you over.  Or you could get cracking on some exciting and innovative plans of you own.  Approaching  the holidays with a positive attitude and expectations of having  fun with others is the key.  You can take part in the joy of the season if you set your mind to it.  Because many others find themselves alone at the holidays too, you can use that your advantage.

Here are a few ideas for you to consider over the three major weeks of celebrations – go on and do several of them or come up with a few of your own:

1)     Go to office parties – many work parties are low-risk events where you can take in the cheer without any couple expectations. Many people might be there alone simply due to the timing and logistics of the party after work, so just go, chat, and have fun.

2)     Make plans to go out with your friends – single or otherwise . Plan a dinner, concert, or clubbing night out. The bigger the crowd the less visible you are as a single.

3)     Plan a night in with your single friends.  Make some snacks, trim you tree, play some holiday music, watch a movie, and chat away. It creates a new event as part of the season and provides a fun memory for you and your friends.

4)     Connect with family – if they are positive people.  Make some calls and share the joy while you catch up.  Avoid calling when you know they'll be at services, eating, or opening gifts.

5)     Find a party.  Inquire of your married friends as to whether they are having a party. You could even help out the hosts while being part of the cheer.  It's good to be around happy people – let their joy rub off on you.

6)     Follow your faith. If you are part of a faith community, check to see if there are any interesting activities scheduled. If not, perhaps suggest one such as a video and a discussion along with snacks. Or maybe a service activity for the local community could be organized.

7)     Focus on kids. Collect toys for needy kids. Ask everyone you know for a toy, collect them, and drop them off at a collection point near you.

8)     Volunteer at a shelter or a soup kitchen – before or after the holiday.  They are usually swamped  on the actual holiday so call first. Then go when they need your help and do what they need you to do.

9)     Find special singles events.  Some hotels and local dance clubs plan holiday events for singles. Look in the paper and on the web. Go with the idea of having fun, enjoy them music, take in the festive energy.

10)  Make positive plans. If there is a particular time when you might be sad – such as Christmas night -- then plan well in advance.  Make arrangements with a friend, go out, or go big and plan a ski trip.  It is important not to be home in a funk. Put a plan in place well ahead of time and go do it with flair.

If you help others you will certainly feel better about yourself.  After all, giving is the true meaning of the holidays. That is the best way to get into the holiday spirit. So enjoy the holidays whether you are dating or not.  Make it a personal development goal to step out of your comfort zone. Do more than one thing on the list. Get up, get moving, and have fun.

And while you are at it, make a  plan for 2011 to change your routine, add some new activities, widen your circle, and expand your network.  If you do this you never know where you'll be next holiday season.

Just Say No to the Status Quo TM

 

Check out Donna Marie's new book at http://www.BouncingBackFromLoss.com.
You may respond to Donna  at dthompson@boomer-living.com or visit her online at www.BouncingBackNow.com.

To read additional articles relating to Boomers, visit Boomer-Living.com at http://www.boomer-living.com.

The Best Gift Boomers Can Give Their Children This Holiday: Peace of Mind

Gary Altman. Esq., CFP

With the holiday season underway, many of us are considering what to give our children and grandchildren this year (assuming they made the “nice” list, of course).  As Boomer-Living’s resident estate planning expert, I’ve got a great idea for you:  Gift your children peace of mind this holiday.

I’ve been writing this column for a couple years now and you’ve heard me make my case for proper estate planning time and time again.  This time, I thought I would share the perspective of one of my clients – a 32 year old daughter of Boomer parents – who wants nothing more this year than peace of mind knowing that her parents have planned accordingly.

Holiday Blues

For the majority of life, holidays and other special occasions have meant separate “celebrations” with my mother and father who separated before my brother and I started elementary school.  As an adult, now married, we do what I call “the holiday circuit” – making the rounds between one family gathering and another – i.e. Thanksgiving appetizers with my dad and his new wife, then dinner with my mom and my father-in-law.  I often coordinate separate birthday celebrations for our three children – one that is dad-friendly and one that is mom-friendly. Unfortunately, I know I’m not alone and many of you may have children who do the same.

When my father remarried a few years back, I inherited what I call “insta-family”.  You see, my step-mother, who had just recently gotten divorced, has four children of her own – 3 adults (younger than me) and 1 minor.  We’re finally starting to get through that initial awkwardness of knowing that at least 3 out of 4 of them hated my father.  I can’t blame them for that – their parents had been married for 20 or 30 years before he came along.  There was/is bound to be some resentment.  And, with that resentment, comes fear, jealousy, paranoia and a whole host of other treats.  Ah, the joys of blended families…

All I Want for Christmas Is…Peace of Mind?  Yep.

A few events have taken place over the last few years that have served as my wake-up call as to critical importance of estate planning.

First was the passing of my great-uncle, “Bud”.  Bud was in his early 80s, had never been married and had no children.  He lived modestly, but had done well through saving and investing, leaving a healthy estate behind.  This estate could have gone towards caring for his only sibling (my grandmother).  It could have gone to a worth-while charity.  It could have even helped to pay for college for his grand-niece and nephews.  It could have done a lot of things…had he planned properly.  Instead, because the most recent version of his will hadn’t been signed prior to his death, New York law determined that the estate would be distributed according to an old will – one which named his ex-fiancée as the sole beneficiary of pretty much everything – his home, his car, his bank account and his investments.  Adding insult to injury, a 529 college plan that Bud had specifically set up for my oldest son, would also become the property of this woman, who hadn’t been in Bud’s life for the last 10 to 15 years.  Because my son is a minor, and because I hadn’t been assigned as his custodian on the account, the account became the property of the estate.  Lesson #1:  Having an estate plan that has been carefully reviewed (right down to naming beneficiaries on financial accounts) and kept up-to-date by an experienced estate planner is the only way to ensure that your estate will be distributed according to your wishes.

The next wake-up call came after my amazing mother-in-law died from breast cancer at the young age of 60.  She had worked her whole life as an occupational therapist in the public schools to build a nest egg with my father-in-law, yet she never got to live those “Golden Years”.  Her illness crept up quickly and, unfortunately, while she did have a will, she hadn’t taken the time to specify wishes on how she might like her estate to be divided, leaving her two sons in the awkward position of having to negotiate with their father for anything they may want – something neither of them are likely to do.  Lesson #2:  We never know how long we have.  If you have children, talk to them and your spouse about what your wishes are and have them incorporated into your estate plan before its too late.

Around the time that we lost my mother-in-law, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  When it rains, it pours, right?  It occurred to me then that I had no idea if my dad had done any kind of estate planning.  What if this surgery didn’t work?  What if he became really ill and medical decisions needed to be made?  What would happen if he passed away?  Who would handle his estate?  Had he planned on leaving anything to his me and my brother or would everything go to his new wife and her four children?  How on earth do I even talk to him about this?!?  Lesson #3:  Remarriage and blended families complicate an already sensitive and complex matter.  Relieve your children of the stress and burden and take care of your estate plan.

It wasn’t easy, but I started making subtle pleas to my dad to take care of his estate planning.  My approach was two-fold:  #1 My husband and I had already taken care of our estate planning, so there’s no reason why a 60 year old, remarried father and step-father who was just treated for prostate cancer shouldn’t have his done.  #2, I reassured him that my ONLY motive, and this is true, was to avoid any conflict later.  I let him know that I didn’t care what he ultimately decided, I just wanted it spelled out so that, if and when the unfortunate happens, there will be no questions about his wishes.  The last thing I want is to be fighting with my step-mom or her kids or even my own brother about things like life support or who gets what assets, etc.

Hallelujah!

My dad, in true Boomer-era fashion, avoided the issue for as long as possible.  If you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist, right?  Ultimately, it took losing his mom, who passed away at the beginning of this year, to get him to meet with an estate planner (Gary Altman).  Perhaps then he realized that it wasn’t going to be as painful as he thought it would be.  Maybe he finally realized that it was really important to me, as his daughter, that he get it done.  Whatever it was, I can honestly say that it was the best gift he’s ever given me – peace of mind.

I’m still working on my mom…

Copyright © 2010 by Gary Altman, Esq.  All Rights Reserved.

You may reply to Gary  at galtman@boomer-living.com and to learn more, visit his website at www.altmanassociates.net.

To read additional articles on financial matters for Boomers, visit Boomer-Living's Financial Center at www.boomer-living.com.

Tags: birthday celebrations, grandchildren, holiday blues, mother and father, peace of mind

“The Best We Possess”

By Mark McIntosh

It's that time of year again, the holiday season and its tsunami of greeting cards arriving daily. I do love the yearly chronicles many friends send at this time. I must admit to being terrible about making the time and taking the effort to send holiday greeting cards. I can't remember the last time - probably when I was a married man a decade ago - that I've sent anything to anybody. I promise though, I'm not a Scrooge.

Recently I was opening various cards that had arrived during the week. I rip open one from a buddy who is veteran of the human resource world. An entrepreneur, he's built a fine career and always sends cards, not just at Christmas, but many other holidays.

This year's card did not recite events of the past twelve months. Instead it listed eight thoughts about life. You have probably heard them before but it never hurts to be reminded occasionally, right? Each on its own, and certainly all collectively, help us play like champions - home, work and elsewhere. Allegedly they come from a sign hung on the wall of a children's home in Calcutta, India. They are excerpted from Mother Teresa's book, A Simple Path:

·    People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered - Love them anyway
·    If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives - Do good anyway.
·    If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies - Succeed anyway.
·    The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow - Do good anyway.
·    Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable - Be honest and frank anyway.
·    What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight - Build anyway.
·    People really need help but may attack you if you help them - Help people anyway.
·    Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth - Give the world the best you've got anyway.

What a great list! But, let's be honest. It's easy for me to read it, easy for you to affirm it, but when times get tough and we have to LIVE that list?  Easier said than done.

To love unconditionally; to never grow weary of doing good; to strive constantly for success; to be unfazed when good deeds go unnoticed; to be honest and frank; to realize "stuff" happens that can wipe out all the hard work; to realize some fear help and reject it. Living with a mindset where wonderment defeats fear does leave us susceptible to bumps and bruises to the mind, body and spirit. Hey, it's life.

The simple act of opening a holiday greeting card reminds me of the importance of being a student, not victim, of life's experiences. It's not easy, we get kicked in the teeth more often than we'd like but let's always encourage - give hope and confidence to - each other to keep on offering the world no less than the best we possess anyway!

“Do Your Best”

It was one of those Saturday afternoons in the Mile High City that makes you give thanks for living in the Centennial State: late November but the sun is warm, the breeze cool and the sky a blazing blue - it's beautiful.

I have removed more leaves from the gutters, winterized the sprinkler system and swept the garage. It's time for a beer so I wander, with cold beverages in hand, down the street to my neighbor's to provide hydration while he takes respite from a project of his own. Teamwork, it's the key to success.

The conversation centers on Denver Broncos' head coach Josh McDaniels. The young coach, after starting undefeated through six games a year ago, was now the subject of much criticism and ultimately, would be fired for winning just five and losing 17 since the great start. As a sports talk show host in the Mile High City, trust me, many were grumbling the Ohio native, a Bill Belichek protégée in New England, was not the right guy for the beloved Broncos.

My buddy, between swigs of brew, states, "There are certain horses for certain courses." I had never heard that phrase before and it just about knocked my socks off. Ain't that the truth? So often in life we make decisions that initially appear to be quite good. But over time, it becomes apparent that we've got the wrong horse for the course; or vice versa, we've got the wrong course for the horse.

We're left wondering, "What the heck is going on around here!" These thoughts might revolve around a deteriorating or destroyed marriage, job, health or whatever. We have that sudden, or perhaps gradual, realization, "this isn't working." It's a lousy spot to be.

Then the question becomes, "What to do about this predicament?" My goodness, when we're talking about making decisions dramatically affecting relationships, professions and health, a lot of soul searching, with its inherent battle between fear and wonderment, comes along for the ride. I want to say, "Choose wonderment" but realize that's too vague.

Perhaps this is better. When it comes to answering the question about "horse and course" or "course and horse" let's try, when thinking about making a change, to remember the three-way test: Does what I'm contemplating honor me? Nurture those dependent upon me? Add value to the communities I serve? If you hit the "yes" trifecta on that test - go for it. While there's no guarantee of success, you run this race against adversity without blinders, with little need for a corrective whip and a sense of accomplishment at the finish line of something very important: The satisfaction of knowing you did your best.

“Worth the Effort”

By Mark McIntosh

Recently my son and I were driving home from a "watch party" for the Colorado/Nebraska football game. We were listening to post-game comments of the Huskers' convincing win over the Buffs in their final Big 12 battle before each departs, respectively, for the Big Ten and Pac 12 conferences.

Over the radio, CU's interim head coach Brian Cabral, who had led the Buffs to impressive wins over Iowa State and Kansas State since replacing Dan Hawkins, was talking about his chances of earning the job permanently. He mentioned that yes, he wants the job, but, "It is really out of my control at this point."

As we drove quietly toward home, with the sun disappearing along the Centennial State's purple mountain majesty known as the Front Range, Cabral's "it's really out of my control" statement permeated my marrow. It made me think of the Serenity Prayer that starts with: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference."

I first heard the prayer years ago while attending Alcoholic Anonymous meetings in support of a family member struggling with alcohol abuse. It's one of those, at least in my opinion, "simple to say and affirm, but not easy to execute" kind of statements. The prayer is attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr, an American theologian of the early-to-mid 20th century, who admits, "It may have been spooking around for years, even centuries, but I honestly believe I wrote it myself."

The serenity to accept things we cannot change. Wow, two painful divorces, I fought hard to avoid, immediately come to mind. Each marriage produced an amazing child. Each divorce rocked their world. But with time as the great healer, this unwanted and unexpected journey has become a blessing in bringing a wonderful woman into my life. Son and daughter, now almost 21 and 14, adore her too. Along with my kids' respective mothers and their new families we joke, "We put the fun in dysfunction."

All joking aside, I do struggle with how divorce may affect the kids' thoughts of relationships. I hope and pray my behavior in dealing with life's disappointments - home, work and elsewhere - will always be an example to them of, as I wrote about in my third book, "turning lemons - heck with lemonade - into sweet and savory margaritas."

Learning to accept the things we cannot change. Brian Cabral cannot change the disappointing outcome of a game where victory probably would have guaranteed him the job as CU's next football coach. I can't change two divorces, you can't change - fill in the blank.

What we can change is perspective concerning life's challenges. Let's vow to encourage one another to never grow weary of being students, not victims, of our experiences. It takes courage and wisdom but is so worth the effort.

Old is new again in Mazatlan

By Bob Schulman

Mazatlan, the grande dame of Mexico's beach resorts, has been hosting tourists since 1920 – when today's hot spots at Cancun, Puerto Vallarta, Los Cabos and the like, even star-studded Old Acapulco, were mostly just barren stretches of sand. “She (the town) may show a wrinkle here and there,” a spokesman for the western Mexico resort says, “but her charms are still drawing millions of visitors.”

How does Mazatlan rank among the country's other resorts? How about walking away with the title, “Best Family Beach Destination” in the prestigious travel site Travelocity's 2010 ratings of 14 major Mexican getaways! Some 2.3 million people cast online ballots in the competition, of which 73 percent gave the nod to Mazatlan.

Like the other resorts, Mazatlan has miles of beaches lined with luxury hotels. But unlike the others, the nearby town isn't a throwback to its Spanish colonial days. Instead, Mazatlan looks more like a jump back in time to the Old World trappings of Germany or France rather than the porticoed walkways of Andalusia.

The city's crown jewel – and a huge plus in the Travelocity competition – is a 180-block area in downtown Mazatlan called the Historic District. Originally built by Central European transplants in the 1840s, the area was once the city's commercial and entertainment center.

It gained international prominence as a rest and relaxation stop for the “49ers” heading to the gold fields of Northern California. By the time they arrived in Mazatlan, the wanna-be miners had taken long, arduous trips on sailing ships down the east coast of the U.S., Mexico and Central America, after which they hopped on boats to cross the steaming rivers of Nicaragua or pre-canal Panama, then boarded larger ships for the final leg of the trip up the western shores to San Francisco.

Mazatlan was “discovered” in the 1920s by fun-loving Hollywood stars and their friends when alcohol prohibition was enacted up north. “There were speakeasies (illegal bars) all over America, but the law was a great excuse to come down here to get a drink,” reporters were told by Gilberto Limon, Mazatlan's legendary public relations man.

Prohibition was tossed out in 1933, but even with the Great Depression raging up north, visitors kept coming to Mazatlan. “Word had spread,” Limon explained, “that our waters are packed with big gamers like marlin, swordfish, tuna and sailfish, and they'll bite at just about anything with a hook on it.”

Mazatlan's early resort hotels were built along several blocks on the Olas Altas waterfront edging the Historic District. Several are still there. One, the La Siesta, offers 57 small but pleasant rooms lining a colonial-style courtyard. The 77-year-old hotel also offers an unexpected treat: Its restaurant, El Shrimp Bucket, is the flagship of the wildly popular Carlos' n Charlie's chain.

Limon loved to tell the story of how a young Carlos Anderson and his pal Chuey Juarez came to La Siesta in 1962 to open their first restaurant. “I guess you could describe the place as something like the Rolling Stones meet Pancho Villa,” he said. “Guests sat at beat-up tables along walls decorated by photos from the Mexican revolution while rock music blared from tinny speakers. Sometimes the waiters sang along. It was fun for everyone.”

From El Shrimp Bucket came Senor Frog's, Carlos O'Brien's, El Squid Roe and others in what's now a worldwide chain of dozens of restaurants.

Also still standing (but a lot less preserved) is the nearby Belmar, opened in 1920. Its then-opulent guest rooms, lush gardens and elegant ballrooms were once filled with Hollywood superstars of the likes of John Wayne, Tyrone Power, John Barrymore, Gregory Peck and Rock Hudson.

Still another, the Freeman, debuted in 1944 as the first high-rise hotel in town. It's now the Best Western Posada Freeman Express, having been totally renovated a few years ago. A tip to visitors: Don't miss the stunning view of Mazatlan from the 12-floor hotel's rooftop bar.

The Historic District, also called Old Mazatlan, has been enjoying a rebirth over the last few years, thanks to a multi-million-dollar facelifting. A few blocks inland from Olas Altas, tourists now wander around block after block of art galleries, sidewalk cafes, museums, jazz clubs, boutique hotels, restored mansions and even a restored neo-classical opera house.

Lined by trees and stone benches and on three sides by al fresco restaurants, the block-long Plaza Machado takes center stage in the Historic District. At one restaurant, Pedro & Lola, diners look out at a building across the street, now a dance studio but once a grand hotel, where in 1883 Mexico's famous opera singer Angela Peralta stepped out on a balcony and wowed the crowds with her theme song, La Paloma. She'd come to Mazatlan to sing at the nearby Teatro Rubio opera house but died before the performance of yellow fever, along with thousands of Mazatlecos.

Sixty years later, the opera house was renamed the Teatro Angela Peralta in her honor. Restored to its original splendor, it's still open. Besides operas, it hosts  theatrical and dance performances, art exhibits and jazz and pop concerts.

On a recent night, diners around the Machado were entertained by an Afro-Cuban group. The plaza, which in the old days was a gathering spot for classical music lovers, this night was jammed with hip-shaking salsa dancers.

Also part of the restoration project was the construction of a colorful,

seven-mile-long tiled promenade edging the beaches between Olas Altas and the city's modern-day resort strip, the Zona Dorada (Golden Zone). According to Ernie Sanchez, public relations manager for the Mazatlan Hotel Association, the historic attractions are “a huge draw to the downtown area” for guests staying in the 10,800 rooms of the tropical palaces in the resort zone.

Getting there: Several major airlines offer nonstop flights to Mazatlan from U.S. gateways such as Los Angeles, Denver, Phoenix and Houston, among others.

Staying there: Dozens of tourist-class hotels line the beaches of the Zona Dorado while others dot the resort's new marina and convention areas and another new development north of the resort strip called New Mazatlan. Among popular properties is the 400-room Playa Mazatlan (hotelplayamazatlan.com), one of the first two hotels in the Zona Dorada.

More info: Visit the Mazatlan Hotel Association at www.gomazatlan.com or the Mexico Tourism Board at www.visitmexico.com.

Photo credit: Mazatlan Hotel Association unless otherwise noted.

New Book Taps into Hundreds of Boomers’ Heads

Revised and expanded second edition of How to Love Your Retirement is the most comprehensive collection of wisdom from real people on meeting the challenges and maximizing the opportunities, of this life stage

By Rosa Mangiardi

Just released, How to Love Your Retirement, specially edited by Barbara Waxman, a nationally recognized coach for adults, midlife and better, is the most comprehensive collection of advice from real people about dealing with retirement and getting the most out of it.

According to Waxman, the conventional notion of retirement itself should be retired, as the large wave of more than 70+ million Baby Boomers redefines its meaning. Boomers are approaching this life stage with the same zeal as they did their youth and are making retirement an opportunity to begin a new and exciting phase. Over the course of the next couple of decades, retirement will be viewed as some of the best, most productive and rewarding years of life.

But the opportunities this time offers also brings with it the challenges and anxieties of answering the questions of this modern retirement. The book How to Love Your Retirement serves to answer those questions, ranging in subjects from financial to interpersonal relationships to health, such as:

• Knowing if and when you are ready to retire
• Planning for financial independence (even if you are starting late)
• Traveling and relocating
• Learning to refocus on your spouse (and adjusting to an empty nest)
• Identifying new passions/hobbies
• Focusing on health as you age.

Dubbed ‘America’s favorite coach for adults, midlife and better’, special editor Barbara Waxman explains her inspiration for researching and editing the book: “My passion is working with people for whom the primary tasks of middle adulthood have been completed. Children may have, or almost, been raised, relationships have stayed the course, dissolved, or are on the horizon and career goals have been achieved, have been a disappointment or are still being set. The question we face is, ‘what’s next?’”

As is the premise of the Hundreds of Heads’ Survival Guide series, the best way to answer these questions and many more is to mine the hundreds of heads of real people’s hard-earned wisdom and advice. Barbara and her team conducted hundreds of interviews with boomers and older adults, collecting the best advice from them on a range of topics relating to aging and retirement. In addition to the hundreds of regular people interviewed, contributors include experts in the areas of finance, health, career, psychology, education and business.

The book also includes coaching exercises readers can complete to gain further insight into how to apply lessons to their own lives. This ensures readers are asking themselves the right questions and taking all the steps to achieve their retirement-based goals. The book serves both as a quick reference guide and as a workbook.

How to Love Your Retirement is published by Hundreds of Heads and is available at major books stores, and online through Amazon (www.amazon.com), for $16.95. For information about Barbara Waxman, visit: http://www.theodysseygroup.net/.

High on the Hinsdale

Story and photos by Ted Alan Stedman

Up here on the rounded shoulders of the Continental Divide, the only sounds are the hiss of February's blowing snow, the crunchy squeak of backcountry skis, and the laboring pants from two sets of oxygen deprived lungs.

We take turns breaking trail through 2 feet of drifting snow. At almost 12,300 energy-sapping feet, the point skier only has enough wind for about 100 yards of trail-busting effort before passing the lead. Fidgeting with our 45-pound backpacks and climbing skins, we slowly crest the Continental Divide and drink in a magnificent view that seems even more amazing to air-addled brains.

This is our prize, the most elevated snowy summit we’ll reach during a 4-day hut-to-hut ski tour along the Hinsdale Haute Route, the highest hut-to-hut ski route in Colorado. But as we reconnoiter our position on the map and scan the jagged horizon, our elevation celebration takes a serious nose-dive.

Turns out hard-won patch of mountain top we’ve just climbed is nothing more than an unremarkable ridge dwarfed by four surrounding 14,000-foot peaks and scores of 13,000-foot summits perforating the skyline. The scale is humbling, and almost enough to cause a case of vertigo for two skiers with shaky legs.

In Colorado, there are longer backcountry hut tours. There are tougher ones with no shortages of adrenaline pumping, white-knuckle Telemark descents. And with 12 different hut systems and about 60 cabins and huts in all, there are dozens of ski tours with more lavish hut amenities.

But as one of the more wild, rustic and remote hut-to-hut systems in Colorado, the Hinsdale is in a class of its own. Ironically, it rates as one of Colorado's safest ski tours, probably among the best for first-timers. At the same time it delivers a strapping dose of adventure, spectacular scenery and solitude – exactly what a good ski tour should deliver.

What makes the Hinsdale unique is its four “organic” backcountry shelters, which aren't traditional wooden huts at all. The structures are tent-like yurts, modeled after the portable Mongolian shelters used by herdsman across the vast Asian Steppe. Yes, the funky looking yurts are austere compared to the more palatial cabins of Colorado’s premier 10^th Mountain Hut System. But after a hard day's skiing, the yurts are as cozy a sanctuary as you could ask for.

Except for personal bring-alongs like clothing, food and sleeping bags, each yurt furnishes everything skiers need to stay comfortable in the frozen backcountry: a wood burning stove, propane lantern, stove and oven, basic kitchen cookware, bunk beds that sleep eight – even a scaled down "yurt" outhouse.

Another aspect that puts the haute (French for “high route”) in the Hinsdale is the route itself, which carries an average elevation of 11,000 feet. Beginning south of Lake City between between Slumgullion Pass and Spring Creek Pass on CO 149, skiers can safely travel along 30 miles of the Continental Divide. The network of ski routes heads west, more or less tracing the old La Garita stock trail once used by cowboys herding cattle.

What's also unusual, at least by Colorado standards, is that most of the terrain involves gently rolling hills, broad ridges and expansive meadows. The undulating Rambouillet Park and the mild eastern inclines of the Continental Divide give the route a friendly disposition, making the Hinsdale a relatively safe haven from avalanches. This is remarkable considering the area lies in the San Juan Mountains, an area notorious for avalanches.

The Hinsdale Haute Route owes its existence to Jerry Gray, director and founder of the non-profit association that essentially got its start from a loose-knit group of self-described backcountry ski bums.

"Back in the early '80s, a bunch of us skied the backcountry off Slumgullion Pass. We'd always thought it was a great area for a hut system," Gray says. "We started researching the 10^th Mountain Division Hut Association, which was really getting popular. They helped us understand the application process, and we basically followed in their tracks."

In 1988, the newly formed Hinsdale Haute Route Association filed a special use application through the Rio Grande National Forest Service. After a somewhat lengthy review period, Gray decided to take a low-impact approach by using portable yurts, an idea spawned from his earlier hippie days.

"When we first moved to Lake City in 1976, we had four boys and were pretty broke," he recounts. "I formed a teepee company to get wholesale access to canvas and materials. We moved outdoors, didn't pay rent and pretty much lived the hippie dream."

Gray eventually shifted his skills to building yurts. After earning the required federal blessing in 1992, he and his volunteers built the first yurt in the system, the Jon Wilson Memorial Yurt honoring a popular college student who spent summers in Lake City and died in a 1991 auto accident.

Jon Wilson's namesake yurt lies less than 2 miles in from CO 149, making it the preferred eastern launch point for skiers to link up with the Hinsdale's other yurts. Since the terrain is fairly genteel, Jon Wilson is the best yurt destination for beginning skiers.

An important link is the system came on line in 1995 with the completion of the Colorado Trail Friends Memorial Yurt. The Colorado Trail Foundation and founder Gudy Gaskill were instrumental in donating funds to establish the yurt, which sits in the most spectacular location of all the system's yurts.

From the Colorado Trail yurt, skiers can see three Colorado Fourteeners: the side-by side profiles of Sunshine and Redcloud peak to the southwest, and the imposing Uncompahgre Peak to the northwest. From a nearby ridge, skiers can also take in the view of Handies Peak further to the southwest.

The two other yurts -- Rambouillet and Fawn Lakes -- now complete a system that gives skiers several touring options and about 40 miles of routes to explore.

Depending on points of entry and routes taken, skiers can climb more than 2,500 feet or as little as 500 feet to reach a yurt destination. Most descents aren't particularly steep and are gradual along the prescribed routes. But experienced Telemark skiers with a penchant for powder can scout off-route for more vertical terrain as long as conditions are safe.

"Hinsdale Haute Route progresses in difficulty from beginner to intermediate, to terrain that requires advanced backcountry skills," reminds Gray. "There are several bail-out points and easier alternative routes that make the system fairly user-friendly. As long as you’ve got good lungs, this ski route is at or near the top of Colorado’s best uncrowded and spectacular ski tours.

More info: Visit www.hinsdalehauteroute.org.