It was 6:00 a.m. June 1, the first day of winter. The evening rain that had moved in off the South Pacific ceased and the sun dawned. I was sleeping in the rain forest near Byron Bay when a choir rose to meet the day and the new season.

The plaintiff song of the Butcherbirds, the squawking of the red bellied Rosella Parrots and cockatoos in the shedding gum trees, the childlike crying of the Green Catbird, cackling of the Bush Turkeys, melodious tunes of black and white magpies, thrushes, and yellow beaked mynahs as they fed on the nectar of the bottle brush were all disturbed by the lunatic cacophony of the plump and amusing Laughing Kookaburras. I woke to winter with a smile.

The strangely formed menagerie of land-bound hoppers, burrowers, birds, eucalyptus munchers and mixed breed creatures were dumb, satisfied to leave the morning air to the high-flying vocalists and unable or unwilling to join the chorus.

I was in New South Wales in the land down under and flora, fauna, time and season were out of joint. Lying on the southeast coast of Australia, the state enjoys a Mediterranean climate (ranging between 40 and 75 degrees in winter), the country’s largest population (7 million of a total 30 million) and fosters sophisticated and alternative lifestyles.

Its capital is Sydney, the oldest and most beautiful city in the country (although Melbournians will dispute this claim, I don’t think they have an argument). Situated on one of the world’s great harbors, its shore is adorned by a massive bridge that gates and spans the seaway entrance and the revolutionary architecture of the Opera House sails onto the water edge, ringed by pristine city buildings and million dollar homes.

Sydney Opera House sails into the harbor.

It was the country’s first colony, established January 26, 1788 when the fleet commanded by Captain Arthur Phillip landed in Sydney Harbour with about 750 convicts and 250 officials and their families to settle and claim the continent for Great Britain.

Following the Revolutionary War the U.S. had rejected British prisoner settlement in the south, so now it was off to the land that Captain Cook had discovered with its unwanted cargo. As in American history, the indigenous population would suffer deeply from this incursion, but that is always the cost of exploration and settlement. The event is commemorated every year as “Australia Day” and celebrated in the blistering heat of January 26, most heavily in the “convict city” of Sydney.

I arrived in Sydney on the countries signature airline, Qantas, which has non-stop direct flights from Los Angeles and San Francisco that take about fifteen hours. You cross the international dateline and lose a day, reason enough to extend your visit.

I booked my tour through Virtuoso, which specially selects hotels, restaurants and attractions for its clients. They have a working relationship with the Australian Tourism Office and receive special amenities and offers, which they pass along to travelers.

Some Virtuoso hotel recommendations in Sydney include the InterContinental, Four Seasons, Park Hyatt and The Observatory. All have great spas, pools and restaurants, but The Observatory has the top Sommelier in Australia, Christian, who matched and explained some beautiful Australian wines with my dinner. The best meal I had was prepared by the two Michelin star chef Hugh Whitehouse at Darley’s Restaurant in Lilianfels Blue Mountains Resort and Spa.

In Sydney I got a behind-the-scenes tour of the Opera House and dined in the employee restaurant. English artist/musician Brian Eno had just installed his evening light show, which flashed numerous images on the outside sails of the Opera House, and he filmed the event for future use.

I sped around Sydney Harbour on Sea Sydney Cruises 52-foot motor yacht, had lunch in a quiet bay aboard ship, docked at the enormous Taronga Zoo and met koalas, emus, kangaroos, Tasmanian Devils and most of the other odd creatures that inhabit this lost world of the animal phylum. There are more peculiar and lethal animals in Australia than anywhere else.

Left: Munching Koala Bear at lunch; Right: Curious Emu

Red Kangaroos wander freely throughout the country

The day I arrived in Sydney I had breakfast and lunch in Bondi Beach, the great surfing Mecca, and met two young American women who were waitressing at Nick’s and Trio Café on one-year work visas. It’s a government program for 18-30 year old students to take a “Gap” year from college and experience life in Australia and be able to make a little money (very little, Australians usually don’t tip).

Travelers on a shorter timetable should also know that they need to purchase a three-month visa from the Australian government for $25 before entering the country.

Australians love their coffee and drink it more than tea. Some coffee shop terms to know if you want to succeed as an Australian barista on the work visa program: “Long black” is espresso with water, “flat white” espresso with frothy milk.

For Sydneysiders the wine country means Hunter Valley, a two-hour journey to the north. Grab a copy of the Hunter Valley Wine Country Visitor Guide from the Tourist Center to check out some of the 140 vineyards, primarily producing Shiraz and Semillon. Be wary if you are imbibing in wine country. Australians drive on the left side of the road.

Hunter Valley vineyards in the winter month of June

Some I visited were Audrey Wilkinson, Hungerford Hill, Lindemans, which also has vineyards in the Barossa, McGuigan Cellars, Wyndham Estate, which introduced Shiraz to Australia back in the late 1800s, and my favorite Pepper Tree Estate. On the vineyard grounds are Robert’s Restaurant, The Convent guesthouse and Tower Lodge.

For a glass of beer in wine country visit the Bluetongue Brewery and try their tasting. My favorite beer in Australia was Coopers, nice and hoppy. For local cheese sample across the street at Binnoire Dairy. In the Hunter Valley I stayed on the expansive grounds of Peppers Guest House, on which wild kangaroos also resided and Internet usage was free.

On my journey north to the Hunter Valley, I passed through bush country to visit the World Heritage Site of the Blue Mountains. These intriguing formations gain their color from vapors rising off the eucalyptus forest. There are spectacular views from the lookout ledge, but this is not the best place for an acrophobe, the stone platform plunges straight down over 1,000 feet.

Byron Bay, population 9,000, was my favorite area in New South Wales. The most easterly town in Australia, it lies two hours north of Sydney by plane at the edge of a rain forest. It’s a surfer’s paradise and artist colony. Many of the artist’s workplaces are also shops. Make sure to visit the local glassworks and travel into the hills to meditate and renew at the alternative lifestyle Crystal Castle retreat.

In the 60s and 70s the counterculture cultivated high-test “Mullimbimby Madness” in these hills and there’s a little bit of that culture still around. Lots of lively pubs and restaurants in Byron Bay keep the town rocking. The best restaurant is Dish and Paul Hogan opened the town’s largest bar. On occasion you’ll also see a celebrity like Paul, Gweneth Paltrow, Russell Crowe and Olivia Newton John, who own homes in the area.

I stayed at the Byron at Byron Resort and Spa, built inside the coastal rainforest. They offer several spa treatments and have a lovely pool and restaurant, where I had dinner with the town Mayor and proprietors Lyn and John Parche my final night. This is a spectacular property that you must see and hear, especially as I did, at 6 a.m. when the morning choir begins, no matter the season.

For information on travel accommodations, special events, sightseeing, dining options, bargain hunting, etc., www.australia.com, www.sydney.com and www.virtuoso.com.

Originally posted April, 2017.

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It was 2 a.m. my last night in Baja. Standing on the veranda of my hotel room on Rosarito Beach, the full moon illuminated the slate gray ocean and a phosphorescent white glow in the foaming waves as they ebbed and receded from the shore.

Millions of years ago these salt waters covered the peninsula, layering in shell that would become limestone. When the tectonic plates rose and forced the waters back they cracked the granite that lined the earth’s crust into boulders, which later mixed with the illuvial soils of clay, sand, and other minerals to form the land that would so influence the vineyards.

I last visited the Baja Peninsula in 1986, about the time that the first modern plantings of vines were occurring in the northern valleys. Now about 70 mostly small family run wineries dot the landscapes in the Valle de Guadalupe, Santo Tomás, Vicente, San Antonio de las Minas and Valle de las Palmas regions, where 90 percent of Mexico’s wine is produced within a 100 mile radius and less than a two hour drive from the American border south of San Diego.

Vineyards in the Valle de Guadalupe

The Spanish were the first to plant grapes in the region during the 16th century, primarily to use as sacramental wine. In the 1860s Russian immigrants escaping Czarist persecution started settling in the Valle de Guadalupe and also planted grapes. To this day you can occasionally see a blond or red head descendant in the valley.

The oldest surviving vineyard is Bodega de Santo Tomas, founded in 1888. Aside from its Reserva Unico, It is best known for having joined California’s Wente Vineyard to produce Duetto, a 50-50 Santo Tomas/Wente blend. They also produce exceptional olive oil and last year shocked the Italians when it won first prize at a blind tasting in Milan.

Best known of the Baja wine areas is Valle de Guadalupe. Situated off the coast in a rising plane between Rosarita and Ensenada, most of the vineyards are planted between 1,000 and 1,300 feet elevation, beginning about twelve miles up the incline from the ocean, the wine growing area stretches about 20 miles. Warning to acrophobes, don’t look down when you’re driving along this wine country road.

The stone and boulder strewn land is a reminder that it once dwelt below the sea, and its austere landscape has a major influence on the quality of the wine. The off-shore flow of cool air in the evenings mitigates the warm days and contributes to the development of the grape in similar ways that California coastal vineyards experience, but harvest begins a bit earlier, in August. Thirty-five varieties of wine grapes are cultivated including Italian and Spanish varietals which do well here, especially Tempranilo and Nebbiolo, which is usually the last grape to be harvested.

Nebbiolo Grapes Days Before Harvest in the La Cetto Vineyards

Other grapes which adapt to the warmer climate and make up the largest plantings include Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel, Merlot, Syrah, Grenache, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and Viognier.

In Tecata, the northeast area of the Valle de Guadalupe, lies the second largest vineyard in Mexico, La Cetto (La Khet-toe), with a volume of 800,000 cases a year selling between $7 and $50 depending on the wine. The tasting room receives about 200,000 visitors a year and the wine has won numerous international gold medals. Next door is the La Casa de Dona Lupe vineyard where you can sample local cheese and olives with your wine.

Monte Xanic vineyards

Other outstanding wineries with tasting rooms include Monte Xanic, founded in 1987 by Hans Backhoff and regarded as one of the top produces in the area. Domecq, which used to be known for its Sherry and Brandy, now concentrates on non-fortified wines. Tres Valles, which as the name implies, features bold reds from the Guadalupe, Santo Tomás and San Vicente valleys. The beautiful Hacienda La Lomita and Pijoan wineries produces some nice whites. Many consider that Viñas de Garza produces the finest wines in the area and his Cabernet reflects that in its price of $54. Also try the wines at Casa de Piedra, Vinisterra and Rincón de Guadalupe vineyards. In Ensenada visit Fernando Martain at Cavas Valmar, one of the pioneers of the modern Baja wine region.

My favorite winemaker, Monica Palafox of Palafox winery, delivers across the board, from whites to reds. Located in Valle de la Grulla, south of Ensenada and abutting the Santo Tomás Valley, you need to make a reservation to taste, www.aldopalafox.com.

Other Vineyards with tasting rooms include Baron Balche, Bibayoff, Sol de Media Noche, Vinas de Liceaga and Vinos Fuentes.

Monica Palafox and my favorite wine in Baja

In August, 2012, Mexican President Felipe Calderón dedicated the new wine museum in the Valle de Guadalupe, built with $5.3 million in state and federal funds, and announced the establishment of a $3.8-million fund aimed at supporting Mexico’s wine industry. Its facilities highlight the history and tradition of wine-making in the region through interactive displays.

Wine museum

Many of those working in the Mexican wine industry have trained in California, Oregon and Washington, especially the field workers, and many of the wine makers have experience in Europe as well as the Western United States. Whether the Mexican wines will ever rival those remains to be seen, but there is a lot of optimism and European and American wineries are sharing in the interest as well.

America laws restrict the amount of alcohol that can be brought across the border to one liter, which is one of the reasons that only about 20 percent of tasting room guests are from outside of Mexico. The other is that Mexicans are developing a taste for wine and an appreciation of the vineyards in Baja.

When You Go:

Glamping

Until recently, Baja wines had little to no commercial presence in the United States because of the small production and low importer interest. However the wines mentioned here can be purchased directly from the vineyards or from the San Diego firm winesfrombaja.com.

Some of the larger vineyards have tasting rooms open daily to the public, but for many others you need to make reservations. Brochures available through the Baja Tourist Office provide contact information. English is spoken at all the tasting rooms.

The peso is worth about 80 cents to the dollar and in Baja you get more for your money if you deal in dollars and don’t convert to pesos.

There are a number of housing and dining options. In wine country I did some “glamping” at Cuarto Cuartos vineyards, elegant cabanas set in the middle of an expansive vineyard with magnificent views of the Pacific Ocean from the hilltops on the property. In Rosarito I stayed at the New Port Beach Hotel, where the water laps against the shore, day and night.

When dinning in Rosarito try the obligatory lobster dinner at Puerto Nuevo restaurant and enjoy a Mexican breakfast at the eccentric El Nido. In the Valle de Guadalupe enjoy the local cuisine at Meson Leonardo and be sure to try the apple pie. In Ensenada, try the upscale oceanside dinning at Belio and Nigori Sushi for a change of pace.

Whenever you’re in Ensenada you must visit the historic watering hole Hussong’s for margaritas and mariachis. Founded in 1892 by German immigrant John Hussong, it is the oldest cantina in Mexico.

Port of Ensenada

For brochures, the Ruta del Vino map, tasting room reservations, housing, restaurant information and lists of events and festivals, contact the Baja Tourist Office.

This article originally published in April 2017.

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Raoul’s 2 Cents, July 24, 2026

Last week I shared how I banged my head when the chair I attempted to step on slipped due to the puddle of water on the floor. People encouraged me to get a head scan to make sure there was no internal bleeding but the pain subsided after a few days and I didn’t think it was necessary. But my aunt reminded me that my great great grandfather fell off his horse and hit his head. He neglected going to the doctor and in a short while he became completely blind. That was the scare I needed so I did go for a checkup. The doctor doesn’t think I need it but I’m scheduled for a CT Head scan (whatever that is) early next month.

I wondered about people I know who were hit in their heads and I realized that every single one of them had one thing in common — they became smarter! I have a theory — a Big Bang Theory … a Big Bang in the HEAD Theory! We are all aware of the untapped mysteries of the brain. We’ve been told that we underutilize the power of the brain. I think if we get hit in just the right spot in the head, we can unleash that power.

CASE 1:
Rodney was one of my best friends in my college years. He was one of the smartest people I know. He wrote poems and plays, composed music with his guitar, indulged in very deep conversations and organized many social activities. He confessed he wasn’t that smart until he was hit by a baseball bat. He said he was a mediocre student watching a game when a batter swung and released his bat which hit him on the head … knocked him out cold. When he woke up, he said that’s when he became smart. I believe he became the valedictorian of his high school. He became a lawyer and defended the poor.

CASE 2:
My brother tried to stand on top of a basketball. (Yup! Not very smart yet.) The ball rolled out underneath him. He cracked his skull. He became very introspective. He began to hang out with the smart kids in class. He too became a lawyer and an environmental scientist for the EPA in Washington, DC.. Before his untimely death, he was building a complex ecosystem in Ecuador, at the edge of the Amazon jungle.

CASE 3:
My sister fell down the stairs, hit her head. Guess what? She became smart. She’s very good in math. She’s the one our family runs to for legal paperwork.

I guess cracking one’s head is like being bitten by a radioactive spider. It jars those dormant brain cells into action. I can imagine the hospital room when I go for my CT Head scan next month. The doctors and scientists will gather around me:

“Poor old man cracked his skull … gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s smartest man. Raoul Pascual will be that man! Better than he was before. Better… smarter… intellectually boring … but smarter!”

“Okay, hold him steady while I get my baseball bat …”

TGIF people!

QUOTES OF THE WEEK

“Girls have an unfair advantage over men: if they can’t get what they want by being smart, they can get it by being dumb.”—Yul Brynner

“In grade school, I was smart, but I didn’t have any friends. In high school, I quit being smart and started having friends.” — David Spade

“Never confuse education with intelligence. You can have a bachelor’s degree and still be an idiot!”— Anonymous

“Sometimes you just have to play the role of the fool to fool the fool who thinks they are fooling you.” — Anonymous

“Half of being smart is knowing what you are dumb about.” — Solomon Short

“None of us is as smart as all of us.” —Ken Blachard

“I will give thanks to you, LORD, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” — Psalm 9:1

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” — Proverbs 1:7

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” — James 1:5

Thanks to James, Dan, Barbara and Jonathan for these

MEMES of the Week

I found these:

I collaborated with my friend and jokester,Terry Cassel for these below.

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About Brom Wikstrom: During the summer of 1975, at the age of 21, a diving accident left Brom a quadriplegic. He spent seven weeks in intensive care in a public health hospital, and the following year in Seattle at the University of Washington hospital. MORE.

The invitation came by post. I thought it was junk at first and stacked it with the rest of the mail until my wife Anne came home for lunch from her dental office. A handsome brochure touting the attractions of Peru is included along with a letter describing the dedication of a group sponsoring a conference on art and disability. I cannot determine how my name came to their attention but recognize this invitation as the chance of a lifetime and speculate for a couple days on how we might manage to afford the trip.

It will strain us financially but an adventure of this nature is too good to pass up and we are excited about the prospects of meeting artists and experiencing a completely different culture. A couple weeks of arrangements by phone, fax, e-mails and letters go by and we are booked and registered. Anne’s employer has given us the name of a colleague in Lima where the conference is taking place in case of an emergency.

Anxious weeks go by as we await our departure and research Inca history that we are certain to experience. We won’t require inoculations but are uneasy about encountering Shining Path guerillas or bandits of any sort. As we approach our departure time we feel as prepared as we can be but do have apprehensions about the unknown.

It’s a long flight to Lima and we’re unsure what day it is when we finally touch down but know that it’s late at night and with little effort we get through customs and locate our transportation. It’s apparent as we try to communicate with the cab driver that the language barrier is going to cause difficulty but fortunately we connect with delegates from Tucson who speak the lingo. Frank is blind and an accomplished singer and musician and his companion Marcia operates a theater company and is associated with VSA Arts.

After a few hours sleep, we rise for a quick bite in the hotel café and link with Frank and Marcia and volunteers from the sponsors for a tour of the city. We arrive at Plaza de Mayo, the main city square where the changing of the guard is in progress. It’s a ritual that doesn’t interest us much and we’re satisfied to tour a few shops and listen to the street performers. Frank tries out a flute and joins one group briefly for an impromptu concert.

We load into cabs and drive to the district of Miraflores and a large outdoor market. We are stunned by the vast assortment of items for sale and the high quality of the material. Some serious shopping ensues and I pick up a couple of items to add to my collections including a marvelously etched gourd.

We walk back to the hotel along Arequipa Avenue that is a wide boulevard that shows the flavor of the city well.

The congress is taking place at another hotel that is close enough for us to walk to and we enjoy exploring the neighborhood and getting our bearings while making our way there. The main thrust of the conference is theater arts and I’m thankful to be able to represent a visual component along with a talented artist from Cuba. Delegates gather and we meet many of the participants including Sharon and Laurel who are disabled travel agents from the U.S.

They introduce us to a local guide named Pepe who assures us that it will be possible to take a side trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu! It will further tax our resources but we’re game for the adventure and put our faith in Pepe’s company, Apumayo Tours.

The conference consists of a series of panel discussions that are informative and compelling and describe programs offered locally and internationally for people with disabilities to become involved in the arts. We are pleased to contribute to the proceedings and share our experiences. Our evening is capped by a series of wildly confusing but very dramatic performances by conference artists at a theater in another district. The language barrier is formidable but we enjoy the show nevertheless and continue to meet other delegates including Jose, an artist’s agent who has a special treat for us tomorrow.

First we will again attend conference sessions but soon rendezvous with Jose, Sharon and Laurel at a local restaurant for lunch. There we taste the national drink, Pisco Sours that resembles a margarita with a froth of egg white and sprinkled bitters. Jose is post-polio and gets around on crutches and upon concluding our trip we will ship him a sports wheelchair that I was no longer using.

Our cab follows his car to the Callou District that overlooks the Pacific Ocean and enters a fairgrounds park that is between events. In a secluded area we get out to tour a large studio with an amazing collection of life casts of North and South American Indians. Dozens of the sculptures line a long gallery and a workshop demonstrates their production. Our private tour is also highlighted by a visit to the personal menagerie also maintained by the absent owner who is a friend of Jose’s, a certain Mr. Filipe Lettersten.

After the next day’s congress we make our way to the Lima Museum of Art. It is located in a lush park and I only need a little help up five steps to access the galleries. The permanent collection of paintings and sculpture is nice enough but the abundant archeological treasures blow us away. The age and condition of the ceramics and textiles of the pre-Incan cultures demonstrate a high degree of proficiency and we’re hard-pressed to think of these artisans as primitive in any way.

The Chancay society is featured in a special exhibition that is dominated by a huge unwrapped funeral bundle that must contain many priceless personal effects of the owner. Our afternoon is capped by a return to the market in Miraflores and gift purchases for loved ones at home.

The evening’s performance features a deaf mime from Germany and an incredible piece by a group from Spain whose energy and colorful costumes delight and inspire us all. On our late-night drive back to the hotel young beggars at a red light descend upon our car and thrust their arms into the car for a handout.

The last day’s sessions are short and sweet and we take our time saying farewells and exchanging gifts. The many volunteers have been extremely helpful in making our trip easy and I give out many lapel pins that I have had made with an original design. Our next stop is the National Museum. It is a rather ugly, totalitarian looking building but within are delicate glories that span time and space. The exquisite gold and turquoise carvings are incredible and the variety and richness of the ancient material is truly astounding.

We are obliged to get assistance up several flights of steps to the main galleries since it’s a Sunday and the elevators are inoperative. The trouble is well worth it as the special exhibit on the Lords of Sipan is incomparable and even features real skeletons. The collection now has its own museum near the site of the discovery.

Early the next morning, we rise and load into a cab that takes us to the airport. Our short, first class flight to Cuzco crosses magnificent scenery of deep, jungle ravines and high, mountain plateaus. It is a fabulous scene and we are amazed at our good fortune.

We touchdown in the Inca capital and immediately are ushered to a nurse’s station in order to check my blood pressure for signs of altitude sickness. No problems are detected and we meet with Pepe who introduces us to our porters and tour guide. Edgar is a full-blooded Quechua Indian and relates many facts about his proud heritage.

I am loaded into a van and begin with a tour of the city. Flute music issues from shops on the Plaza de Armas where we stop and have our first taste of coca tea. This beverage will aid in our adjustment to the altitude and the required ritual lends a spiritual aspect to its consumption. Blowing the vapors to the winds and sprinkling a few drops will appease the ancestors and we begin to realize the depth of faith exercised by the Christianized Incas.

Anne explores some markets and I chew on coca leaves and admire the Inca stonework that serves as the foundation for Spanish style architecture. The number three figures prominently in the ancient culture and is evident in the steps and recessed doors of the buildings. It is also reflected in the tenets of proper living as described by Edgar; Don’t be a liar, Don’t be lazy, Don’t be a thief.

We drive out of town and stop briefly at the enormous, stone fortress of Sacsahuman and Tambo Machay with its cascading waters that only the nobility could use. Edgar points out the terraced mountain fields that the Inca had constructed into the shape of a condor on our way to the small but historic town of Pisac. We purchase some modest souvenirs and continue our drive into the Sacred Valley to our hotel, the Posada del Inca.

The altitude is getting to me a bit and I am pleased to lie down for a nap before a light chicken and rice meal. We are pleased to visit a small chapel on the grounds and later are treated to a fireworks display ignited in celebration of tomorrow’s Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

Later that evening, we visit a ceramic studio and meet the English-speaking owner. The work is wonderful but a little pricey and we really don’t have room in our bags so only purchase a small plaque. We are too excited about tomorrow’s adventure to get much sleep and will have to rely on adrenalin to get us by.

I enjoy a hearty breakfast and feel prepared for the day. It is a glorious, sunny day and we load and begin our drive towards the train station that will transport us to the Machu Picchu station. Along the way, Edgar points out the way Inca women rouged their lips with crushed cactus mites that generated a red substance. He also shows us a whole mountain that had been converted into the form of a frog with more stone terraces.

Folk artists offer us their products while waiting for the train that will carry us along the banks of the Urabamba River. Farmland gives way to ever-increasing jungle growth the further we go and the gentle river becomes a torrent as we descend deeper into the gorge. Edgar points out evidence of Inca civilization along the way and describes the rail line as a previous Inca trail. Several passengers get off at the halfway point to walk the rest of the way to the citadel.

The first of several obstacles greet us as we exit the train at Machu Picchu station. Steep steps lead to the buses that will take us to the park so we are obliged to traverse a long rocky trail instead. My porters take turns and team up for the hard parts and manage to get me aboard the bus that takes us up a harrowing twelve-kilometer drive to the site. Edgar is clear in his correction that these are not “Ruins”, and that Hiram Bingham was the Re-discoverer of the city.

He also makes a dramatic declaration about the mountain that overlooks the city after we have entered the sacred confines. The shape of the Puma Mountain becomes apparent and certain mysteries are revealed as we delve deeper into the extinct civilization. The manicured stonework is extremely impressive and our eyes take in the wonders with majesty.

A long flight of steps leads to the most sacred place, the Temple of the Sun. While my helpers take a well deserved break, we listen to Edgar’s description of the edifice. I decide to place one of my pins beneath a stone and Edgar makes the gift worthy by raising his arms and begging acceptance of the Inca. We ascend another long flight of stone steps to the Sacred Plaza and take in the awesome view through the Temple of the Three Windows.

This courtyard is the site of many ceremonial rituals that I cannot begin to imagine and I express my sincere gratitude to Pepe and the others who have made this remarkable experience possible. The weather is hot and I begin appreciate why the sun and the shadows it casts were of such significance to the Inca.

Anne is able to access other parts of the site while I find a shady spot and let my imagination carry me aloft, above these massive, unspoiled stones and into the cloud jungle. The large, ceremonial plaza below is easier to traverse and Anne and I get a few moments alone to reflect on the meaning for both of us. Too soon though, we rendezvous and after some group photos, we begin our descent.

A mild shower cools our sunburned brows and gives a shine to the rocks and cliffs as we move along the terraces that lead towards the exit. We pass under an enormous stone outcropping that serves as an effective barrier to this Shangri La. The bus-ride back gives me a lingering view of the palaces and we feel as if waking from a dream. We have a 3/4 of a mile trek along the rail line to the helicopter port and eventually get hoisted aboard the twelve-seat helicopter for the half-hour flight back to Cuzco.

The other fellows will take the train back and meet with us over a congratulatory dinner at a restaurant off the Plaza de Armas. We check into the Hotel Libertador, a luxurious place but not very accessible and relax over a late lunch with Pepe and some Coca tea. That evening on the plaza, we treat to a well-earned meal and express our thanks for the crew’s hard work on our behalf. We stay up late and review the experience over champagne in our room and say our farewells. It has been an extraordinary day that we will never forget and we’re sorry to see it come to an end.

Anne has a raging headache upon rising and even inhales oxygen once we’re aboard our flight back to Lima. Our familiar cab driver is happy to see us and takes us back to the Invertur Hotel where I am pleased to rest in bed while Anne visits the shopping market one last time and acquires several musical instruments.

That evening, Dr. Haro, a colleague of Anne’s boss, treats us to a fantastic meal. He is interested in the work I’ve recently had done on my teeth and gives me a cursory exam in the middle of the dining room to the amusement of the waiter.

The long flight back to reality is mercifully uneventful and we are delighted to return safely. We share our memories with our loved ones and present them with gifts that have much more meaning for us and begin to re-assimilate back into the twentieth century.

• Original article written in December ’98.

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Since my visit to Asturias, Spain, last October, I’ve been dreaming about a rustic chicken dish I was served there. I was visiting for the natural paradise that is Asturias, with hiking, climbing, horseback riding, kayaking, even coal mining on my itinerary. But all that exercise led me to explore the fantastic kitchens of the region too.

Since that Asturian trip I’ve researched recipes for Pitu Caleya only to learn that, as is so typical of true rustic dishes, each household has its own way of making it! The version I was served was a rice-centric dish with all the flavors of chicken but no big pieces. The recipes I found online were more formal, featuring chicken pieces and rice ranging from a risotto consistency to a crusted paella style. Below I combined the best recipes to deliver the great chicken flavor I remembered with a rice somewhere between the two. I’ve made it several times now and really like the fragrance, texture, and taste. I even included a shortcut so the dish can be made in one day if you are short on time.

A note about the spelling: Pitu caleya is the Spanish version. Pitu Calella is the Asturian version, with the double “ll”s pronounced as “l”, not as a “y” in Spanish.

Pitu Caleya – Asturian Chicken “Paella”

Ingredients – serves four (with the best leftovers!) to eight

• 4 each chicken drumsticks and thighs, (eight pieces) bone-in, skin-on
• Marinade:
  • 3 tbsp salt
  • 1 ½ tbsp sugar
  • freshly ground pepper to taste
  • 4 tbsp vegetable oil – more as needed
• Braise:
  • 10 sprigs thyme
  • 1 garlic head, cut in half
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 2 cups whole apple cider
  • 2 cups Sidra (Spanish cider) Preferably Trabanco, but in the US Angry Orchard would do.
  • 2 cups chicken stock or broth as needed in braise or paella
• Paella:
  • 5 tbsp butter (or more as needed)
  • ½ cup flour
  • extra chicken stock or broth
  • 1 medium onion diced
  • 1 medium carrot diced
  • 1 medium red pepper diced
  • ¾ cup Calasparra rice
  • ¼ tsp crushed red pepper
  • 1 tsp salt
  • mixed chopped fresh herbs (parsley, chervil, chives) to garnish

Instructions

• Stir the salt, black pepper, and sugar in the oil until sugar dissolves, then drizzle over the chicken legs and thighs in a zipper plastic bag and rub chicken through sides of the bag to fully moisten and refrigerate from six hours to overnight. (Alternately, rub the marinade on the chicken and proceed to the next step.)
• Remove chicken from the refrigerator. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the chicken skin side up in a 9×12 baking pan, add thyme, garlic, and bay leaves, pour in the cider and sidra, (the liquid should be halfway up the chicken – if not, add enough chicken stock to get there) and braise in the oven uncovered for about 1 -1 ½ hours. The chicken should be tender, golden and caramelized on top and the liquid should have reduced by about half. Allow to cool enough to handle. 
• Remove the meat (skin attached) from the chicken drumsticks in pieces while keeping the thigh intact as you remove the bone.Set aside the thighs and garlic, strain and defat the liquid, mashing the roasted garlic back into the strained braising liquid. Reserve liquid and set aside the bones for your next stock.
• In a large sauté pan or paella pan brown the butter. Toss the pieces of chicken leg meat and skin (not the intact thighs) in a plastic bag with the flour and the remaining salt and add to the brown butter. Cook until the chicken becomes golden brown and crispy. Remove to a plate and keep warm.
• Then add the chopped onion, carrot, and both diced and dried red peppers and saute’ until soft, 3-4 minutes, adding more butter as needed. Return the chicken legs to the pan. Add the rice, stirring to moisten, followed in a minute by the remaining braising liquid from the chicken and, if needed, enough extra stock to make 4 cups.
• Cook over medium heat until the rice absorbs most of the liquid, stir, trying not to disturb the bottom layer of rice as it begins to stick to the pan – about 30 minutes. Taste the rice and adjust for seasoning, especially salt. Preheat the oven to 350.
• Arrange the reserved chicken thighs (halved if serving eight) on top of the cooked rice in the pan and finish cooking in the oven for ten minutes. Garnish with chopped herbs and set on the table. Serve on warm plates each with a thigh on top of the rice. Pass a salad.

Unfortunately, I was unable to get chef Noé Alvarez’s recipe for pitu caleya, of Castillo Del Alba Hotel, but this slightly fancier substitute will still deliver the delicious flavor while being true to the traditional regional specialty. I hope you enjoy it!

Note on accommodations: In the old quarter of Aviles, my hotel, the Palacio de Aviles, is a converted palace with centuries of history and beautiful, formal gardens to relax in. From there it was an easy walk or short drive for the culinary adventures described above. All but Pitu Caleya. I stayed at the Castillo Del Alba Hotel for that meal.

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Story and Photo by Corinna Lothar

January is heavenly in Greece. According to Greek mythology, Alcyone, the daughter of the king of the winds, married Ceyx, the son of the Morning Star. When Ceyx drowned in a storm at sea, Alcyone was so distraught that she threw herself into the sea in grief. Out of compassion for the loving couple, the gods changed them into kingfishers. In order for Alcyone to be able to make her nest and lay her eggs on the beach in peace, her father restrained the winds and calmed the waves for a short period each January . A lovely story; a lovely time of the year; a lovely place.

The place is Athens during the Halcyon days (named for Alcyone) in mid-January, the warm, sunny weather seems more like spring than winter. A perfect time to visit the land of the ancient gods: tourists are scarce and restaurants and museums are not crowded. The cool weather can be delightful, never too hot and occasionally refreshed by rain showers. The mountains are dusted with snow – — Greece has ski resorts — but Athens and the surrounding area profit from the kindness of the god of the winds.

Athens

Athens, the capital only since 1834, is lively, interesting and modern, ringed by pleasant suburbs with lovely villas along streets lined with orange trees. The narrow streets and houses in the old Plaka and Monastiraki districts in central Athens recall what the city once was like. Shops stocked with stylish clothing and jewelry, and flea markets crowd the narrow streets. A visitor comes unexpectedly on a Greek or Roman ruin, a tiny Byzantine church or an Ottoman mosque, remnants of Greece’s multiple rulers.

There’s no shortage of restaurants. Some specialize in Greek cuisine with Turkish influences, the heritage of the exchange of population which took place between Greece and Turkey just after World War I. Informal cafes are everywhere. Fish restaurants abound in Piraeus, Athens’ port, which can be reached by bus, tram or the underground. Athenian women wear the latest elegant European fashions and are friendly and helpful to a stranger unfamiliar with the language and the alphabet.

Syntagma Square lies at the center of the city, with the Parliament on the square. Every hour there’s a changing of the costumed guards. It’s like a stylized dance, wonderful to watch.

The elegant old Grande Bretagne Hotel, recently renovated, stands on the square, too, with a fine bar for a drink. The Syntagma metro station is worth a visit, even if you aren’t going anywhere. It’s decorated with stunning antiquities unearthed when the station was built.

From the square it’s only a short walk to the oldest parts of the city, to the shops, both elegant and trendy, to the municipal buildings and to the Benaki and Cycladic Museums. The Benaki is a private museum with a superb collection of everything Greek, from antiquties to modern paintings, to ikons and folk art and costumes. A delightful café — popular with Athenians — atop the building is a particularly pleasant aerie in good weather.

The glory of the city, and its symbol, remains the sacred rock, the Acropolis, connecting the ancient with the present. It rises magnificently above the city from a nest of scaffolding and cranes. Repair of the Parthenon has been going on since the mid-1980s. Since its creation in the 5th century B.C., during the golden age of Pericles, it has served not only as the temple to Athena, but as a Greek Orthodox Church dedicated to the Virgin Mary; a Roman Catholic Church during Frankish rule in the 13th century, and a mosque under the Turkish occupation in the 15th century. It remained intact for two thousand years until it was left in ruins by a Venetian bombardment during the siege of 1687.

The Erechtheion — named for one of the mythical kings of Athens — was built in the 5th century on the northern side of the Acropolis. On the Erechtheion’s south side, the figures of the Caryatids support the roof of a balcony.

The Caryatids.

The statues on view today are copies; the original five sculptures of the beautiful maidens are in the Acropolis Museum located below the Acropolis where the original sculptures, reliefs and other art works from the Acropolis buildings are on view. A sixth, along with the Elgin marbles, is in the British Museum in London.

Inside the temple was the 40 foot high statue of Athena made of wood, ivory and gold, the work of the sculptor Pheidias. The statue was lost during the Byzantine era, but a smaller Roman copy survives in the ever-fascinating National Archaeological Museum, which offers visitors not only a wealth of art from Greece’s classical period, but a magnificent collection of cycladic art.
From the Acropolis, there’s a splendid view of Athens below and of the hills surrounding the city. St. Paul stood on the rock just to the west to preach to the Athenians.

On the southern slope below the Acropolis lie the ruins of the Odeon of Herodes, built in 161 A.D., and the Theatre of Dionysius, where Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Euripides and Sophocles saw premiere performances of their plays in the 5th century B.C. In the summer, the theatre is used for plays, and concerts are performed in the Odeon.

Farther down the hill to the southeast stands Hadrian’s Arch, the entrance to the huge Olympian Temple of Zeus. Only 15 of the original 104 Corinthian columns of the temple remain. It was dedicated by the Roman emperor Hadrian in 132 A.D. He erected a gold and ivory inlaid statue of Zeus in the temple, and next to it he placed a huge statue of himself. Neither survives. The Arch marks the boundary between the ancient city and the new. On the side facing the Acropolis is inscribed “This is Athens, the city of Theseus.” On the side facing the Temple of Zeus, it states, “This is Athens, the city of Hadrian.”

At the foot of the Acropolis to the north lie the ancient Greek agora, the well preserved Temple of Hephaestos, the curious Tower of the Winds (a first century B.C. octagonal hydraulic clock with a bas relief of one of the eight winds sculpted on each face of the clock) in the Roman agora, and the oldest sections of Athens – the Plaka and the Monastiraki.

Every Sunday all of Athens seems to wander through the flea market of Monastiraki. The small shops lining the narrow streets are open every day, and on Sunday, the sidewalks are crowded with vendors of all sorts of goods old and new. Restaurants seat Sunday crowds at tables on the narrow sidewalks.

Nearby, on Aghias Theklas Street, is the shop of Athens’ famous poet and sandalmaker, Stavros Melissinos. Stavros retired in 2004, and his son, Pantelis, a poet and playwright, now makes the sandals and runs the shop. Lord Byron lived in a house on this street when he visited Athens in the 19th century.

Athens’ large, busy Central Market bustles in the Psyrri quarter adjacent to Monastiraki. Fruit, vegetables, meat and fish are colorfully displayed and vendors shout their wares from booths. Dozens of different fish are often displayed with miniature boats and shells, with whole lamb carcasses hanging above the butchers’ wares.

Day trips from the city offer a visitor the opportunity to admire beautiful countryside and to visit the ancient sights or some of the islands. Regularly scheduled bus and boat tours with knowledgeable guides, fluent in English, make the visits easily accessible. Rental cars are available but finding a way in and out of Athens can be difficult.

Several of the trips are available only during the summer season between April and October; others run all year. One such year-round trip goes from Athens into the Peloponnese, reached by crossing the narrow Isthmus of Corinth via the bridge high across the Corinth canal. The canal was begun by the emperor Nero but not completed until 1893.

Corinth

Ancient Corinth was the first city in Greece to mint coins. Because of its location near the trade route across the Isthmus, it was rich and powerful. Destroyed by the Romans in 146 B.C. (in the same year as the destruction of Carthage), it was rebuilt by Julius Caesar a century later.

Ancient Corinth was dedicated to Aphrodite, the goddess of fertility. A thousand women served the goddess as sacred prostitutes for rich visitors, earning money for the temple. Corinth earned a licentious reputation, and St. Paul preached in the city against its wickedness; his letters to the first Christian congregation became the books of the Bible called I and II Corinthians.

Corinth’s acropolis, Agrocorinth, lies 1500 feet above sea level and 1000 feet above the ancient city. The ruins are reached through three gates, each dating from a different century. It has served as a fortress for each conqueror of Corinth.

Mycenae & Epidaurus

The road to the ruins of Mycenae passes through the modern village of Mycenae, where the names of the cafes and restaurants along the road suggest the popularity of the ancient ruins: Elektra Bar, Orestes Café, Iphegenia Restaurant, Belle Helene Hotel.

The important Mycenaean civilization existed from about 1600 to 1100 B.C., when Mycenae was abandoned. The ruins of the fortified palace are grandiose. This was the home of the house of Atreus, from whence Agamemnon set forth in 1250 to Troy to avenge the theft of his brother’s wife. It’s a climb from the parking lot up the hill and through the fabled Lion Gate, the first example of European monumental sculpture.

Grave circles within the walls hold the tomb of Clytemnestra. At the top, all that is left are the outlines of the chambers of what was a mighty palace. The view, like the ruins, is unique. The hilltop palace was inhabited by the ruling class, while the merchants and artisans lived and were buried below, outside the walls.

Nearby is the treasury, or beehive tomb, of Atreus, an extraordinary circular burial chamber with a high dome and a single straight entry passage lined with stones. The entrance itself is surmounted with a 120 ton lintel stone; the dome is entirely covered by earth. Unlike their contemporaries, the Mycenaeans did not cremate their dead, but buried their kings with weapons and food for the journey to the other world. The tomb is also called Agamemnon’s, whose golden death mask is on exhibit in the Archaeological Museum in Athens.

Nafplio

To the south, lies the lovely Venetian seaside city of Nafplio. The first capital of Greece from 1829 to 1834 after the country’s independence, this charming town scrambles up a hillside to an imposing Venetian citadel. Just outside the harbor lies the fortified island of Bourtzi, another Venetian fortress, once the home of the local executioner.

Palm trees, water gently lapping against the harbor promenade, small shops and restaurants, a large central piazza with outdoor cafes, and flowers blooming in the winter sunshine give the town a Mediterranean air. The town’s Catholic churches were built originally as mosques by the Turks. A genuine Italian gelateria adds the perfect conclusion to a delicious lunch of mezze, washed down with a glass of good Greek wine and later a tiny cup of strong, sweet Greek coffee.

Athenians come to Nafplio for a weekend of sun and relaxation. The town’s proximity to Epidaurus and its summer drama festival makes it particularly attractive as a place to overnight.

Epidaurus

The great amphitheatre at Epidaurus in a remote grove of trees retains all its magic, including perfect accoustics. On warm summer evenings, with the hills outlined in the fading light behind the proscenium, ancient dramas come swiftly to life. The plays are performed in the only circular orchestra to have survived from 2,500 years ago.

Epidaurus was famed not only for its theatre, but as a healing center. The ruins of the sanctuary, which included a spring, a dormitory for the patients, a pit for the sacred (and harmless) snakes used in certain cures, are being restored and aren’t currently open to the public.

Delphi

The road to Delphi on the Greek mainland runs through an area once covered with cotton fields. Today, with the textile industry having moved to the Balkans, it’s a lovely drive through farmland at the foot of snow-capped mountains. A short coffee break in the pretty mountain village of Arachova, famous for the brightly colored carpets, is a jump into something like a Swiss mountain village. Shops selling carpets, embroideries and clothing line the main street. Houses tumble down the hill and the hotels and restaurants cater to skiers.

Delphi, the navel or center of the world in Greek mythology, is magnificent. There, the sibyl in her laurel smoke enduced trance would mumble prophecies from her tripod atop the sacred rock. A crack in the rock emitted the fumes surrounding the Pythia, as she was called. The priests would ask a question and interpret her answers in writing, but written without punctuation so that the prophecy, believed to have come from Apollo, could be read in several ways. The oracle was never wrong.

The site — when devoid of school groups and tourists — is both spiritual and sensual in its peace and beauty, the ruins ringed by mountains that come together like an upside down triangle. Apollo’s temple amidst fragrant trees and bushes, overlooks a valley planted with four million olive trees, which even in ancient times produced olives for cooking and oil for lighting. Beyond sparkles the sea.

The Sacred Way, climbing from the entrance of the sanctuary to Apollo’s Temple, was once lined with 300 statues and treasuries. On the way is the navel stone, representing the center of the earth where two eagles met, released by Zeus one from each end of the world.

On the hill above the temple of Apollo is the theatre which could seat 5,000 people. Beyond, is the well preserved stadium where the Pythian Games were held every four years. 7,000 spectators could watch the track and field events and listen to poetry and musical performances. On the hill below the sanctuary is the tholos, a 4th century circular construction, purpose unknown, which was once surrounded by 20 columns. Three columns have been erected to give visitors a sense of what the tholos looked like in ancient times.

Outside the sanctuary, on the side of the modern road, is the icy cold Castalian Spring, where anyone visiting Delphi was required to purify himself. The sybil would wash here before making her pronouncements, as did Lord Byron in the hope of divine inspiration for his poetry. Delphi’s museum is a treasure trove of sculptures, friezes and architectural remnants from the sanctuary, including the famous bronze sculpture, the Charioteer.

There are many other places that can be visited in a day trip from Athens, such as the temple of Poseidon on a rock at Cape Sounian overlooking the Aegean Sea, or a boat trip to one of the islands. The trip to Meteora and the monasteries built on rocky formations requires a second day.
Athens and the “the glory that was Greece” entices, excites and seduces still.

WHEN YOU GO

Accomodations:
The Athens Intercontinental is convenient and very comfortable with two excellent restaurants. The hotel has large, attractively furnished rooms. Both the public spaces and the rooms are decorated with unusual, interesting, and sometimes whimsical works of art. The rooms on the upper floors of the north side of the hotel face the Acropolis, offering spectacular views of the Parthenon shining in the sunlight and glowing in the nighttime illumination.

Athenaeum Intercontinenal Hotel
89-93 Syngrou Ave.
117 45 Athens
Tel. 30 210 920 6000
Fax. 30 210 920 5500

Sightseeing:
Chat Tours
www.chatours.gr

General Information:
Greek National Tourism Organization
www.gnto.gr

* Originally published April 2017

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As recently as 1990 there was virtually no tourism to the Arctic archipelago of Svalbard, Norway. Located in the Arctic Ocean between the Norwegian mainland and the North Pole, Svalbard (“cold edge”) was believed to be discovered by the Vikings in the 12th century. It became a base for many Arctic expeditions, then home to whalers and coal miners. Thanks to companies like Hurtigruten, it is now on the map for the world to see.

My adventure began with a flight from Oslo to Longyearbyen, Spitsbergen – the largest island in the archipelago. With a population of 1700, Longyearbyen has the distinction of being the most northern city in the world. Once a mining community, it is now a center for science and tourism. Only four land mammals can survive on this barren tundra: the Svalbard reindeer, the Svalbard mouse, the Arctic fox and the polar bear—which has become the symbol of Svalbard. Encounters with this species are rare, but their presence is felt everywhere. They are known to hunt humans on occasion, so people cannot leave settlements without a weapon or armed guide. Accommodations were at the Spitsbergen Hotel, where, like all the area’s hotels and restaurants, you must follow the tradition of removing your shoes before entering. Longyearbyen also offers shopping, galleries and the Svalbard Museum, an essential stop in preparation for the voyage.

The next day we boarded the 115 passenger MS Nordstjernen. The oldest ship in the Coastal fleet, it maintains the authenticity of a real Arctic expedition vessel. The ship has 54 cruise cabins, all with upper/lower berths. Creature comforts include café, lounge and dining room. Most of the adventure, though, was spent on the wooden deck – where no one wants to miss any of the attractions, clearly in view with 24 hours of sunlight in July.

Heading northwest on the coast of Spitsbergen, I experienced breathtaking fjords, calving glaciers, unique animal and plant life, and a midnight sun that refused to set. More than 60 percent of the archipelago consists of national parks, nature reserves, and bird or plant sanctuaries.

A large number of aquatic mammals inhabit the islands, including whales, seals and walruses. It is also a breeding ground for numerous seabirds. I found a remarkable variety of small flowering plants, which use the 24-hour daylight to produce colorful blossoms.

Landings on tenders were conducted by the highly-skilled Spitsbegen Travel guides – a passionate group and walking encyclopedias on all things Svalbard. They also carried rifles and acted as our protectors.

Highlights included a landing at Barentsburg (pop. 500), a Russian mining town and relic from the Soviet era. The group was treated to a Russian and Ukrainian folkloric show, and stopped for a taste of vodka at the settlement’s one hotel.

Magadalenefjorden is where Dutch whalers came to bury their dead in the 17th century. Stone gatherings and wooden coffins still remain, as well as blubber ovens. Ivory Gulls made nosedives on the group’s colorful hats when we got too close to their feeding area. Words of caution: don’t look up!.

Moffen is a flat island and protected reserve, located north of the 80th parallel. Known for its walrus colony, we spotted fifty of the creatures, many larger than two tons. Enroute we saw two polar bears on an iceberg, who seemed as curious to see us as we were to see them.

Calving glaciers was one of the many marvels of a stop at the Monaco Glacier. We did a tender cruise in front of the glacier and witnessed beluga whales swimming before us. Next was a tour of the former mining community of Ny-Alesund (pop 30), now an important research station.

On the voyage back to Longyearbyen, we assembled on the deck for the presentation of certificates for crossing the 80th parallel. There were also certificates for those crazy enough to go ice swimming in the fjords. Yes, I was one of them. If you are a lover of nature and history, this is an adventure of a lifetime with a landscape that is dramatically changing –so my advice is to book your trip now.

• Original article published April, 2017

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Snowmobile Ride in Kirkenes

One of the best “travel thrills” for me, was relishing the ultimate excitement (!) of a Snowmobile ride in Kirkenes, Norway. Just the name of the company was intriguing – “Arctic Adventures” – and they offered up a gleaming, glistening, brand new (it costs well over two thousand dollars) sleek looking piece of machinery called a Snowmobile. Once seated, and fitted out in suitable gear, and yes, a crash helmet too, I pressed the little lever on the handle and was amazed that I zoomed away faster than a jet at takeoff. When our group of travel media got back to Base, we were treated to Ice fishing! Our host donned a wet suit, cut a hole in the thick ice over which we’d all just been snowmobiling, and jumped into the freezing, blackness of water below. 10 minutes later he surfaced with some gorgeous looking crabs. After cooking, we all knew how delicious fresh caught crabs could be. THIS is a unique travel experience, in a special location, that I know you’ll love.

Germany on a Trabant car

When you’re in Germany, give yourself a taste of what life was like under the Communists, and take a ride – or, if you have the courage, drive it yourself! – in a Trabant. What, you might ask is that? Well, as hard as this is to believe, that’s what East Germans’ (back in the day) paid thousands and thousands of their hard earned money, for a so called car that had a lawn mower type engine. Buyers waited up to – are you ready for this – 15 years to get one, and in E. Germany over a 30 year period, some 3 million plastic bodied automobiles, were somehow stuck together with a two cycle, air cooled engine that generated more smoke than acceleration. I was too chicken when I was in Dresden and Munich to rent and drive one myself, but I wanted to see what it was like. So I had the rental car folks take me. It was total fun. Google German Trabants. If you do ride in one – and when you return Stateside – send me an email with your comments. jd******@*ox.net

If you fly into London Heathrow Airport, and want to get into London Central real fast, do what I do every time I fly to London. Take the Heathrow Express. It goes from Heathrow Central, and gives you a fast 15 minute train trip to Paddington Station in the heart of London. It’s far better than a taxi, bus or even the Underground, and gets you there more comfortably – and faster – than you can say “I can’t wait to see the new Royal baby.” Here’s a money saving tip. Get your tickets online, as they cost LESS, and buy a RT. Your questions answered at www.heathrowexpress.com

If you were traveling around Europe by night, you could have done what I did a before 2016, and sleep in the lap of luxury. Here’s how. Take the Swiss based City Night Line. They specialize in providing sleeping cars for many of Europe’s best trains, and the accommodations are superlative – I thoroughly enjoyed taking a shower!!! The carriages, food, beds and all that includes, are so good you’ll want to stay in your cabin long after you’ve arrived at your destination. Sadly, at the end of 2016, CityNightLine stopped operating and carriages were sold to the Austrian Railways which extended their night train network under the brand Nightjet. Nightjet trains still connect Munich, Vienna, Zurich, Hamburg, Cologne, Berlin, Milan, Rome and other cities.

For breathtaking mountain scenery that DOES take your breath away, try this. A trip to the Swiss mountains of the Jungfrau and Eiger. Best bet is to stay in the charming postcard town (it’s more like a village) of Grindlewald. The cog wheel drive train takes about an hour to get to the top of the Jungfrau, and the views are absolutely awesome. Just over half a million tourists take this unique trip every year, and I’d do it again right now if I could.

TRIVIA that might surprise you – especially as it concerns the journalist for this travel column:
When Edgar Rice Burroughs’s originally described Tarzan as a British aristocrat, what do YOU think he called him?

ANSWER: He gave him the name of — (ahem!) John Clayton. (see below)

Tarzan is his ape name; his real English name is John Clayton, Viscount Greystoke (according to Burroughs in Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle; Earl of Greystoke in… Tarzan (1999 film) – Tarzan (disambiguation) – Jane Porter – Tarzan of the Apes.

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Story by Fyllis Hockman. Photos by Victor Block. Originally published on May 2013.

The endangered white rhino. The elusive silverback mountain gorilla. The rare tree-climbing lion. Hippos, elephants, crocodiles. The massive shoebill? Yup, him, too. These are just a few of the multitude of wildlife we cavorted with during our ElderTreks’s safari and trekking journey to southwestern Uganda. But the visit to the Kibale Chimpanzee National Forest to see the ever-playful chimps in the wild was one of the more delightful surprises.

A quick briefing introduced us to the chimps said to share 98.7% of their DNA with us humans. 98.7! Already feeling an affinity, we split into smaller groups with an assigned guide carrying her assigned rifle. Were our relatives in danger? It seems elephants and buffalo also roam these grounds and are more aggressive than those seen on game drives where the animals are more accustomed to people in vehicles. The guides, we were assured, shoot the rifles only if necessary to scare them away

Also armed, so to speak, with a number of rules governing our outing, we were told to stay 25′ away, if lucky enough to find them on low-lying branches, to be quiet so that the guides can listen to the calls and not to mimic the sounds of the chimps – as if that were even possible – because you don’t know what you might be saying. I couldn’t help but think the chimp would probably turn down a date if I made the mistake of coming on to him.

Finally we took off through very dense forest. Lots of tweets and trills, whistles and warbles, cries and caws produced a symphony of sound which accompanied our walk. I knew our guide recognized every note and was thankful she didn’t feel compelled to share all that information with us. I’m pretty sure the resident bird watcher in our group would have preferred otherwise.

Our tracker did point out a variety of monkeys in the trees above but they were so high as to be indistinguishable from the leaves unless the branch was moving – and then, of course, it was already too late. Clearly, I would not make a good tracker – or birder.

The troop of chimpanzees we were tracking numbered 120 but because it was the end of September, our guide lamented that the chimps were harder to find because much of their nearby food supply had been exhausted. You might want to check ahead of time to see when the fig trees are bearing the most fruit – that apparently determines how many chimps you’re likely to see.

Due to this added challenge, we were diverging from the more standard trails and were pretty much blazing new paths. It had been over an hour and we were no closer to finding chimps. I, on the other hand, was more worried we’d never find our way back.

The guide, unfazed, claimed to have found our sought-after prey though those of us less technically proficient in chimp tracking could not yet see any. Still, ten pairs of eyes looked eagerly toward the tree tops, seeming miles away, to catch some movement, any movement, to justify our presence. Suddenly a cry of “There he is” erupted, quickly followed by a disappointed sigh of “Maybe not.”

And then an ear-splitting onslaught of a barking/howling/screeching shriek indicated that yes, in fact, they were around. This gave us all hope but still, without any precise sightings. However, the periodic wailings breaking out in every direction were so loud and disconcerting as to be sufficiently exciting in themselves. When all of a sudden two chimps scrambled past within several feet of our group, we knew we had arrived. “Now that’s more like it,” someone declared!

We literally followed in their footsteps through the bush to find what our guide later insisted was a rare occurrence: an 18-year-old adolescent lying upon the ground in apparent repose, head resting on hand, taking time out to occasionally scratch and snort, totally ignoring our large semi-circle of astonished gawkers. We all forgot how frustrated we had been just moments before. Watching this young lad – whom the guide identified as Enfunzi – so close up did make me question a bit that 98.7 DNA statistic. Not that we don’t scratch…

Although our overall excursion took three hours, a number of very satisfied “wows” punctuated its end. And I was wrong about the tracker – she did indeed know the way back!

And if seeing the chimps in the wild only whetted your appetite for a little more chimp exposure, an hour-long boat ride to the Ngamba Island Chimpanzee Sanctuary near Entebbe just might do the trick. Home to 48 chimps rescued from a multitude of adverse conditions, whether as orphans, victims of illegal activities, or needy of medical attention, these guys roam free on 95% of the 95-acre forest. The other 5% is devoted to feeding the chimps and keeping them safe at night.

Our approach to view their 2 p.m. feeding was vociferously announced by loud guttural screeches, either as a chimp welcoming committee or an entreaty to leave – it was hard to tell. As it turns out, the greeting wasn’t for us at all but for the large alpha male approaching from the opposite direction. I was relieved we had not been the ones to elicit such a thunderous response.

Okay, you’re not seeing them in the wild exactly but you’re seeing a lot more a lot more openly – and they are indeed fun to watch. In between eagerly devouring their lunch of carrots, oranges and pineapples, they scratched themselves and each other, chased each other around, fought over food and generally entertained their human luncheon guests.

Another rowdy fracas erupted when a larger chimp stole food from a smaller companion who loudly called out to his friends for reinforcement – and they rapidly responded forcing the perpetrator to relent and give back the food. Hey, they’re just like people.

As soon as the guys had ingested a sufficient amount of munchables, they headed back to the forest to play, gambol about, climb the branches or rest free of human intrusion. And we got to leave with new respect for our closely aligned cousins with whom we share so much DNA – except, of course, for all that scratching… For more information, visit eldertreks.com which promotes “Exotic Adventures for Travelers 50 and Over.”

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The Wall was not only intended as a defensive structure, protecting the civilized Roman world from the unconquered barbarians in the north, but stood as a testament of Rome’s will and might. It was a propaganda statement, but also served as a census bureau, for the Romans were meticulous record keepers, and wanted to know who was in and who was out. It was the equivalent of a modern-day protection racket, for each person who would pass through the wall was taxed; you were protected, but you would have to pay for it. And tax and trade were among the many things that defined the Roman Empire.

But now, my real education, an oral one, of the history of Hadrian’s Wall would begin by booking a personalized tour with the passionate tour guide extraordinaire, Mr. Peter Carney. My day commenced with Mr. Carney driving us 16 miles from North West England’s city of Carlisle, to a place where locals simply refer to as the Wall. His narration began almost immediately, explaining why Hadrian’s Wall was built, what it did and how it changed the course of human and technological history. But this piece of history does not begin or end with the Wall; it’s as much about the history of the Roman Empire as well as the world we live in today.

The Wall That Bears His Name

Caesar Traianus Hadrianus, Roman emperor from 117 to 138 ACE, was known for his travels throughout the empire, devoting much of his time to civil and military constructions. He was considered to be a benevolent dictator as his interventions generally went unchallenged. And this included building projects, in particular, building projects in which he had designed. Prior to the advent of Hadrian’s Wall, he constructed the Arch of Hadrian in Athens, the Temple of Venus and Roman Arch of Hadrian and rebuilt the Pantheon in Rome. Many of the world’s most famous structures and monuments may lay claim as an homage to others, but were also intended to be an homage unto oneself, where the wealthy have branded their buildings with their own names and logos, even more so today. No lists required.

Hadrian had drawn the design for his Wall without ever having visited the new Roman province of Britannia before. Prior to his arrival, the province had suffered a major rebellion (119 to 121 ACE), comprising some 3,000 soldiers. This might have had something to do about his arrival in Britannia in 122 ACE, but most sources have indicated that it was really more for him to see the early construction of his Wall and then to revise it, and perhaps revise it again.

It was a herculean task to construct the Wall, almost unimaginable in its day, where Roman masons and auxiliary were relentlessly challenged by harsh windswept fields, wide rivers and rolling hills that were not conducive to Hadrian’s initial plans. But Hadrian and his builders, like the Roman Empire itself, could not be stopped, making brilliant use of local geographical features. The well-known Central Sector ran 12 miles along the crags, with the east Wall placed on a long ridge running eastwards to Newcastle, while the west Wall was often located on shorter ridges, allowing views of the north to improve the mobility of the army in the event of Celtic attacks in the frontier.

There is still no conclusive evidence to determine when Hadrian’s Wall was actually completed. An inscription suggests that at least one part of Wall was finalized around 128 ACE, six years after Hadrian left Britannia. He never saw what is believed to be the finished Wall, the Wall that bears his name… but his name and Wall will always remain the same.

Julius Caesar and Britannia

The first direct Roman contact with Britannia began when Julius Caesar undertook two expeditions in 55 and 54 BCE, believing the Britannic people were helping the Gallic resistance in what is today’s France. The first expedition was more of a reconnaissance one than a full invasion, only gaining a foothold on the coast of Kent,a county in South East England, unable to advance further due to storm damage to his ships. Despite what he thought was a failure, it was a political success, with the Roman Senate declaring a 20-day public holiday in honor of Caesar’s achievement of obtaining hostages and pacifying small tribes. The second invasion involved a substantially larger force where Caesar coerced many of the tribes to pay tribute in return for peace. This concluded with the surrender of the warlord, Cassivellaunus, and the installation of the more Roman-friendly king, Mandubracius. Caesar conquered no territory and left no troops behind, but established new trade partners and brought Britannia into Rome’s sphere of influence.

Remember Vindolanda

The Vindolanda site today contains a modern world-class museum using the latest interpretation techniques which convey the mysteries of Roman life at the Wall. The Vindolanda Writing Tablets, thin slivers of wood covered in unique Latin scribble, were found in the oxygen-free deposits, buried beneath the wooden fort’s floor. They are the oldest surviving handwritten documents in Britain.

In 2018 the museum was extended with an underworld gallery, housing collections of 2,000-year-old artifacts, which included everything from a wooden toilet seat to a children’s toy sword.

It could be a cold and lonely life for a Roman soldier stationed at Vindolanda, where heavy rains and chilling winds would often be a daily occurrence. Many of the solders had arrived from the warm climate of the highy populated Italian Peninsula, and for new Roman commanders and their families, it was akin to a blunt slap in the face in comparison to their early life of luxury in the capital city of Rome.

Vindolanda has attracted archaeological attention for more than a century, but many mysteries still surround it. Students and amateur archeologists volunteer their time and money for digs and lodging during the summer, but often never make it in due to the long list applicant

Claudius, the last person considered to be an Emperor

Emperor Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus was born August 10 BCE at Lugdunum (modern Lyon, France). He was the first Roman Emperor be born outside of Italy, and was ridiculed throughout his life by speaking a rustic form of Latin. His pedigree came from the Julio-Claudian dynasty; Claudius from his father’s side, Julian from his mother’s side of the family. The mocking Claudius received upon speaking rudimentary Latin was not unusual, for he had been ridiculed most of life. At a young age, due to sickness, he had a limp and slight deafness, and was ostracized by his family and kept hidden from the Roman aristocratic eye. In a sense, this was was good for him, for potential enemies did not see him as a serious threat, thus saving him from the fate of assassinations and purges of earlier powerful Romans. By the time of Claudius’ adolescent years, his physical symptoms seemed to subside, and Rome’s senators and patricians began to notice his intelligence and scholarly interests. Nevertheless, Claudius did he best to remain out of view, pleased that there was no hope for advancement, which was exactly what he did not want.

But the new emperor, Caligula, his relative, did recognize Claudius to be of some use as a historian, and appointed him as his co-consul in 37 ACE to inflate the memory of Caligula’s deceased father, Germanicus. After Caligula’s assassination, despite Claudius hiding as an act of survival, he was declared emperor by the Praetorian Guard, as the last adult male of his family.

As an emperor, Claudius was considered to be fair and and efficient. He constructed new roads, aqueducts and canals across the Roman empire, and restored its finances after the excesses of Caligula’s reign. He issued new reformations; ranging from the mandatory death of a slave owner who kills his own slave, to public flatulation, believing it will lead to a healthful life.

But the manifestations of Claudius’ new physical condition were difficult to ignore: his head shook and his body buckled under weak knees. He slobbered and stammered when under stress, making his speech almost incomprehensible. Historians assume his stress was from the fear of his own assassination. Several coup attempts had already been made during the first year of his realm, and he was aware that it could happen at any moment. And so he did everything in his power not to offend his armies; rewarding the Praetorian Guard with coins and tributes, and resorting to bribery to secure loyalty. One of the major themes of the Roman Empire was expansionism, and Claudius made an important calculated decision: keep the generals busy and hide them from the Roman capital by sending them off to distant lands to conquer. And one of those distant lands was an island off the western coast of Europe which Julius Caesar had named Britannia.

In 43 ACE, Claudius sent the general and politician, Aulus Plautius, with four legions to Britannia, under the guise of an appeal from an ousted tribal ally. Claudius himself traveled to the island after the completion of initial offensives, bringing with him a massive army and reinforcements, which also included elephants, an unknown beast that had a demoralizing effect on the enemy. Claudius knew that no people could ever withstand the might of the Romans with their highly trained centurions, legionaries and auxiliary who would march into battle with precision, as a unit in tortoise shell formations, using advanced technical warfare, so advanced that the Celts had never even seen such a force before. It was akin to a Martian landing for the local tribes, witnessing Roman legionaries jumping from their fleet of vessels into rough waters, and then swimming fully dressed in heavy steel armor, carrying swords and supplies, prepared to battle the second they walked on the shore.

Emperor Claudius, whose dominionship began in 41 ACE, was murdered by poison in year 54, perhaps due to a conspiracy between the senate and the Praetorian Guard, but some assumed it was by his 4th and final wife, Agrippina.

The Final Conquest

The Roman conquest of Britannia finally ended under the command of Gnaeus Julius Agricola in 84 ACE, with the Roman armies’ slaughter of the Caledonians at the Battle of Mons Graupius. Celtic casualties were estimated to be upwards of 10,000 and about 360 on the Roman side. The battle ended the forty-year conquest of Britannia, a conquest that saw approximately 250,000 Celtic people killed. Thus, the new province of Romano-Britannia was officially born with Aulus Plautius as the first governor of the new province.

Things Change

From 43 to ACE 410, in the Roman province of Britannia, all people became Romanized and enjoyed the full rights of Roman citizenship. And Britannia’s former landscape, which had once consisted of broken paths, crumbling stick homes and savage Celtic warriors with only blue tattoos covering their bodies, became endowed with Romano-Britannic culture. Their world transitioned to a network of 1,500 Roman roads, some still used today, leading to well-planned city centers and forums with monumental architecture held together with the Roman invention of concrete. Fountains, bathhouses, arenas for music, plays and poetry flourished throughout the new province. Aqueducts fed new homes with running water for bathing, indoor sewage, and some with heated floors. And through trade, Rome’s new citizens would be introduced to unknown spices, unique tools and mechanics. People who lived in rural areas discovered new forms of agriculture, grains and advanced methods of farming. In times of famine, it was no longer necessary to raid a nearby tribe or neighbor to survive.

The new Romanized people were allowed to live and travel wherever they liked without any form of confliction, as did Roman citizens who settled in Roman Britannia, bringing new ideas and new cultures from the far corners of the empire. And they were all protected by the Wall which Hadrian had built.

Roman Emperor Constantine I: The Edict of Milan

In the year 313 ACE, Roman Emperor Constantine I, along with the Emperor Lininius, who controlled the Balkans, issued the Edict of Milan, a proclamation that promised religious tolerance and freedom to be a Christian to all of citizens of Rome. Constantine kept his word, where he himself converted to Christianity, and became known as the ‘First Christian Emperor,’ though many assumed he didn’t actually understand what it meant. Nevertheless, he is venerated as a saint in Eastern Christianity, and considered responsible for introducing this new religion to mainstream Roman culture, a culture who had once thought Christianity was just another new Jewish cult, this one dedicated to a man named Jesus who had once lived in an obscure part of the Roman world. Now, when new Christianized Roman legionaries arrived at the northen frontier, Christian Crosses were embedded on their shields, and the soldiers were morally shaken upon finding that the barbarity of druids, the high Celtic priests, actually preformed human sacrifices. As Rome transition Britannica to Christianity, as they had done to much of the known world, Constantine transitioned the Christian day of worship to Sunday.

Antonine’s Wall

Antonine’s Wall was a turf wall built on stones, initially intended to be Romano-Britannia’s furthest northern defense fortification and replace Hadrian’s Wall. But it was abandoned eight years after completion, when the Roman legions withdrew to Hadrian’s Wall in 162 ACE. The Caledonians north of the Wall were never fully defeated or occupied. The Roman sentiment was basically: ‘Why even bother with these savages, there’s really nothing up there anyway.’ Today tours are readily available to Antonine’s Wall, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  

And in the end…

The Romano-Britannic province all seemed to work until it didn’t, when most of the Roman army pulled out to deal with far more important matters, such as to curtail invasions in Germania from the Franks, the Alemanni, the Goths and the Sarmatians, who stood at Rome’s doorsteps. The Western Roman Empire, whose empire had once spread from the damp gray of Britannia to the deserts of Arabia and to the river banks of the Nile, would eventually fall and become another empire, the Holy Roman Empire, with the Frankish king, Charlemagne, as its emperor.

The Romano-Britannic citizens were left with a scattering of Roman military with little real form of real protection from which would soon come from the remaining barbaric Celts in the north, the war-like Vikings of Scandinavia, the conquering pagan Saxons and Angles from Germania, endless tribal wars, a new Germanic language and a new Germanic name for their island: Angland.

John Clayton: The Savior of Hadrian’s Wall

John Clayton (1792-1890) was a lawyer, an antiquarian and the town clerk of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. During Clayton’s youth, his father purchased an 18th-century country mansion in Humshaugh, Northumberland, adjacent to Hadrian’s Wall. The ruins of the 2,000-year-old Roman fort, Cilurnum, ran through its front garden. Clayton enjoyed exploring and digging around the fort to the point of becoming an amateur archeologist. But, he became annoyed upon seeing local people loading the Wall’s stones into wheelbarrows for reusage in constructing their own buildings. This was not unusual for much the world was built from reusage, which included the stones and marble from the Roman Forum that helped build the Rome and Vatican City of today. But for Clayton, when his own stones were taken from his own property, it was something he could not bare.

John Clayton, due to his successful lawyer-ship, had become wealthy and began purchasing large portions of the Wall and forts, and preserved them by placing sods of grass on their top. At the time of his passing, Clayton owned five forts as well as most of the Wall within 20-miles of his residence.  I was informed by Mr. Carney that when we see contemporary maps dotted with English city names that end with: ‘-caster,’ ‘-cester’ and ‘-chester,’ it is an indication that the city was once the site of a Roman military camp or fort. Another example how the Roman world still affect us today.

Perhaps this obituary about John Clayton says it best:

He strove to become the Wall’s possessor. By purchasing these sites, he brought them under his protection. He stopped quarrying near to the Wall, forbade the use of Roman stone for new buildings, and moved buildings away from the archaeology. Today, he’s remembered as ‘The Savior of Hadrian’s Wall.’

Hadrian’s Wall Guided Walks with Peter Carney

Below is not a paid sponsorship for a Peter Carney Hadrian’s Wall Tour. It is an important suggestion to join one of his tours, and your memory will be enhanced, just as mine has, where the memory of my own tour is carried with me each day.

Contact: pe*********@ha***************.com
Website: www.hadrianswall-walk.com

POST SCRIPTUM: A few things that Julius Caesar left to the world

July, the Julian Calendar, Czar / Kaiser/ Cezary in Polish / Cezar in Romanian / César in French and Spanish / Caesarism / HMS Caesar / Caesarsboom (Caesar’s Tree).

For the Caesar Salad, however, it’s best to swing down to Old Mexico and visit Caesar’s Restaurant in Tijuana, and you’ll see its birthplace and how it was created by the Italian immigrant, Mr. Cesare Cardini, ninety-nine years ago.Here’s the history of Caesar Cardini’s Iconic Caesar Salad by T-Boy Food Critic, Audrey Hart.

‘Hail Caesar’ is a phrase that was used in the Roman Empire as a greeting, a way of showing respect to Julius Caesar. But after the phrase traveled to Germany and transition to ‘Heil Hitler,’ it appears to be less popular today.

PPS: Barbarian

You might have noticed that I use the term, ‘Barbarian,’ a number of times in the text. I’m aware that once a new word or names goes out to the world, over time it takes on a new meaning with different people. I studied the etymology of ‘Barbarian’ within the context of the Roman Empire. It means, during the life of the Imperial Western Roman Empire, any person regardless of race, religion and ethnicity was branded a barbarian if they did not adhere to Greco-Roman culture. But, looking at the name within the context of the ancient Athenian world, it means: any person who did not speak Greek, spoke an incomprehensible language which sounded similar to a noise that a sheep makes: ‘bah bah, bar bar, barbarian.

To see the first three installments in the series, visit:

What’s New and Old in London, Part I
What’s New and Old in London, Part 2
What’s New & Old in England’s North

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