I’m a biased traveler. Having fallen in love with Europe on my first trip to Italy with my father as a 14 year old, it is to this continent that my travel plans always seem to lead. I return to somewhere in Europe now every May to see old friends and favorite cities. But with each trip, I have a …
Are several lumps of sugar worth putting in an historic museum? That may sound like a funny question, but the fact is that yes they are – especially if they’re part of the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms (CWR) in London.
You may not be traveling to far-away places in the immediate future, but we can bring them to you. Here’s T-Boy’s Fourth installment of Virtual Trips by our staff. We hope you’ll be able to put on your traveling shoes and experience the following distant destinations soon.
My friend and I really love hot food. It was 1987 and we were on assignment in Southern India with a group called The Bible League. We had visited remote villages in the interior and had returned to Andhra Pradesh and needed a rest. This particular region of India has the reputation of having the spiciest and most deadly cuisine on the continent.
Just a pleasure visiting the wayback, remembering my daughter’s first far-flung travel. And a chance to reprise it for Christmas and New Years wishes from the original Santa Claus. Many lay claim to the origins of the Santa legend, but St. Nicholas, of the ancient city of Myra in Turkey, is the real deal. Trace them back, most other countries’ Santa legends are spinoffs.
The pastry chef aboard the Viking Vili had no fear of losing his job because of me. My pathetic attempt at making a gingerbread house during his lesson on board put my skills at the kindergarten level. His fanciful creations in the ship’s lounge looked like they were conjured up by a Christmas elf employing Santa’s magical powers.
I lived in a village in the Swiss Alps for two years when I was a little girl and I remember the delicious crunch of the new fallen snow under my shoes on a cold, still Christmas Eve when I was allowed to attend midnight Mass in the village church. The bells rang sharp and clear in the frosty air, the stars twinkled in the dark sky and I knew I would soon see my Christmas presents. All was well with my wee world.
The sweeping Maya culture of Guatemala, full of boundless mystery and intrigue, left behind in its ruins a complex enigma that can lay hold of the sensibilities, fulfill a longing for adventure and discovery, and inflame a strange sense of tragedy and lingering spirits. Never a single all-encompassing empire, the Maya flourished between AD 250 and 900 and, like creeping jungle vines, spread across the Yucatan, Guatemala, and Middle America. A culture developed in its own unique way embracing aspects of life that were unpredictable.
In Homer's epic poem, The Odyssey, the mythical Greek character Odysseus builds a raft and attempts to return to his home island of Ithaca. But Odysseus' enemy, Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea, unleashes a storm and the raft is destroyed. Half-drowned, Odysseus washes ashore on the island of Corfu. He staggers into an olive grove and collapses.
From the waterfront road, I could wander down any short side street and then pass through abandoned play lots, vacant volleyball courts, rows of empty changing facilities, shuttered beach bars and cordoned-off areas normally packed elbow-to-elbow. The tourist season was long gone, most of the waterfront was shut down and I felt like the only one around.
