My hubby and I went to Canada for a short visit- explored the backroads near the Vermont/NY border. Ever had poutine? It’s greasy fries with turkey or beef gravy and melted cheese over that. How they live past 60 up there is a mystery. Saw a nice blouse in a store that cost $42, same exact blouse cost $12 at Walmart in the US. Nice place, Canada, not sure if I’d want to live there.

There was an increasing noise, the dust in just a few minutes covered me entirely, barely breathing i felt somehow there was more light, more air, a more natural feeling around; in between the smoke and the traffic, the tuc-tuc was running along motorbikes carrying a dozen kids, bycicles full of bananas or carton boxes and colorful, dusty buses; “BLOW HORN PLEASE” was written on the back of those shinny rusty metal boxes.

I was still in the limbo that airports always create; in those no one lands, White and glassy time machines, with their long and shinny halls, with their megaphone advising voices, with their oceans of people carrying their souls and dreams in a bag, while below them, or in a very intimate corner of the Windows of a random shop, also with a bag in the hand their other them, (their limbo reflection),awaited to collide as one, to be glued to each other feet with nothing but a few centimeters of recently wax floor , ears and ears to the floating directions, hands and hands and hands holding tickets and luggage.

Once in the boarding area, a confabulation, a tiny imperceptible act of magic as in flipping coins is made and either you or your refelction take the plane while the other sunk in shades remains with the fear, work, worries luggage making it easier for the one now flying to enjoy the travel; or so i always thought, or so i felt, almost floating in the Delhi pollution where i couldnt really tell if it was me, or my airport reflection the one riding on the back of the noisy rusty iron horse towards millenary lands.

Read the rest of this entry »

The gray sky of Arkansas hung over the intensely green forest and blocked all but the sounds of nature. The squirrels, chipmunks and birds were at home here, all moving quickly about their daily lives while Sand and I, stranded and alone in a foreign environment, sat and tried to recall what life had been like when there was furniture, TV, phones and internet service. What had we done? Why had we given up so much? Why had we battled so mightily to get to this place that seemed to pay so little attention to our very existence? The questions were unanswerable.

Then, in the distance, we heard the sound of thunder. Wait…not thunder, but a misplaced growl for sure…long, low and pulsing. It was the sound of a ‘Cat’ diesel engine laboring to turn eighteen wheels on a truck. It grew closer. With each passing moment the sound grew louder…and with each passing moment our lost and battered souls began to rise from the pit of defeat…a warm and growing light grew deep in our chests…hope began to emerge again as the ugly and beautiful noise approached. The birds sang sweeter, the squirrels got cuter, the sky brightened. It was a symphony, an inspiration, a new beginning…IT WAS THE MOVING TRUCK WITH OUR STUFF!

Read the rest of this entry »

I am back from my DEVOcation and I am exhausted!

The life of a rock star is not something to be jealous of.

I started off in my homebase of Columbus for the first show so no real travel involved except for getting on the COTA bus to get downtown as I was gonna drink booze so being a good spud… no driving.

I got there at about 7pm and the crowd was kinda sparse and was afraid the bad weather was scaring people away. But by the time DEVO started there was a good crowd and the weather didn’t make us all wet spuds.

The most unique person at the concert was a older gentleman who was sporting a pink dress and purse with a bright purple pimp hat. He also had a bright white mohawk under that pink hat…of course the mullet guy was more frightening to me…as you can see in this pic.

The setlist was identical to the show last year at the Ohio State Fair but instead of Michael Jackson we got the Godzilla story for final song of Beautiful World.

I thought the video wall was messed up as not used for a couple songs but as I found out by going to 3 shows is that was planned.

The crowd had a great time and we only got sprinkled on a tiny bit so the weather held out for this outdoor show.

Read the rest of this entry »

One of my fondest travel experiences was when I was about 16 years old and my family and I would take trips out the lake conroe. My brother had a boat and we bought this huge inner tube thing called “Big Bertha”. About 3 or 4 of us could fit in there and it was one of the most fun things i had ever been in. My brother would speed in the boat really fast with big bertha trailing behind with my niece, my nephew and myself holding on for dear life as my brother cut threw the waves and we tossled back and forth until finally we flipped over. Then after along day of being bamboozaled by Big Bertha we would Fish off the pier and slurp snowcones as we watched the sun go down.

It’s cold and damp when we wake in the dark in South Dakota’s Custer State Park. Still in our pajamas and carrying pillows and blankets, we’re shuffled out of the pop-up camper and packed into the family van. Mist hangs in the gray air, and the summer sun, which will rise later to burn the day to a crisp, is only just beginning to brighten the sky. We lean against the windows and, through bleary, still-sleepy eyes, look out in silence. The four of us little sisters are too tired even to argue about who sits where. Our parents settle into the front seats with their steaming camping mugs and whisper to each other, respectful of the peaceful morning, quietly excited to navigate the park’s Wildlife Loop Scenic Byway and see what we shall see.

We wind along the byway, exaggerating the slow turns afforded by the early hour. No other cars pass, and we worry it’s too early for the animals. The 18 miles of road through the 71,000-acre park offer a chance to see animals native to the Black Hills roaming freely—antelope, bighorn sheep, elk, and, if we’re lucky, buffalo. Custer State Park is home to one of the world’s largest remaining buffalo herds, and it’s this we’re hoping to see.

Read the rest of this entry »

It would be our first trip to Europe. A long awaited adventure that my husband and I had prepared for many months in advance. Our “trip of a life time” to celebrate our 26th wedding anniversary and the completion of my treatment for Stage IV breast cancer. This would be my third battle with cancer in the past 12 years. It was time for a much needed vacation!

We read the travel books, booked all the flights and made reservations at several Bed and Breakfasts. With just a backpack each, we were headed off on our three week trip to Europe.

The second stop on our trip was to Dingle, Ireland. We chose Dingle mainly because we were looking for a bike ride experience that was promised to be an incredible ride along the coast of Ireland, and I am sure it would have been. However, as Americans never having experienced driving on the opposite side of the road, and being from Texas where most drives are flat, we decided this beautiful bike ride we had planned was better seen from the rental car which was, in and of itself, an experience.

We arrived in the late afternoon and stayed at a Bed & Breakfast for the next three nights. This was our first time at a B&B and we found it to be a wonderful option. We enjoyed meeting and getting to know the owners, Barbara and Michael, as well as the other guests.

Read the rest of this entry »

It’s a nauseatingly comfortable routine: knocking back spoonfuls of peanut butter or Jell-O or something contained in a container, coddling my impartial palette, reclined on the couch as E! News streams from the television. My brain phases into an easy container to mouth rhythm, allowing the mind to focus on celebrity fashion police and the investigative nuances of Justin Bieber’s hair swoop. As the always tasty high-fructose corn syrup coats my stomach in a nutrient-poor glaze, I just as soon forget these passing, passive moments of eating each day. These meals of non-meals are neither vivid moments in my day, nor worthwhile. And these are precisely the moments we tend to sink into when the comforts of home become too comfortable, when our surroundings cease to inspire us to enjoy simple pleasures.

I remember very well, however, ducking into a local German bakery in Munich. Famished and exhausted from stingy seating on our overnight train ride, friends and I sighted the small confectionary store like a beacon of sweet hope – a promise of spiked blood sugar to start off our German adventure. The door chimed open to mark our arrival, and the most amicable of bakers greeted us with affection. She swept us up in a flurry of German sales pitches, before picking up on the apparent language barrier. After a fleeting pause, she continued energetically in over-emphasized gestures and satisfying belly pats to describe the array of doughy cakes lined beneath the glass display. We pointed and salivated over the tiny pies and tarts and strudels; the salted pretzels and sugar pretzels; the poppy seed crumb cakes and glazed walnut Danishes. The affable baker deftly sliced and diced whatever we pointed to, dishing up sample servings and anticipating our bon vivant content. We politely grabbed at each offering, reveling in the heartfelt flavors – aromatic sweets mixed and risen that early morning, pulled from the backroom oven just an hour prior. We left appreciative of her efforts, aware of her flour stained apron and compassionate aim to feed the hungry traveler. I remember well the sugar crystals consequently sprinkled down her forearm as she waved us goodbye.

Read the rest of this entry »

What people will say they love about travel is that time slows down –you’re in it, you feel it, you sense it – You melt into the experience, they tout. But this is a glamorized notion that is only partly true.

The truth is that travel causes time to march to the beat of its own drum. Between jet-lags, waiting for trains, and sprinting to bus stops, time assumes an unfamiliar tone. It’s not that it is slower, it’s that it’s free to coil and recoil, take off swiftly then halt suddenly, and basically present itself in as many crazy angles as possible. And as it swirls in dizzying dimensions, time reminds you, “Hey, if you don’t know how to predict me, you might as well stay in the present.” And so, this is a short story about travel and time, and how its elasticity deluded us in going from A to B.

We 5 female backpackers did nothing short of “scram” out of our Rome hostel hours before check-out time. We had no further intentions than to hang out at the Fiumicino airport until our 8pm flight to London, but it’s safe to say that it was time to leave. It wasn’t the city’s fault, and I thank you, Rome, for your gracious pizza pies, excellent architecture, and that one fuzzy pub crawl, but, by the 5th day, our hostel had us crying uncle.

Read the rest of this entry »

It all started in August of the summer of 2008. My Dad and I had heard the waterfalls at North River were a must-see and always on the look-out for new waterfalls to photograph and new trails to tackle, we drove to the area to speak with some locals about the trail and to get some directions. We found what we were looking for at the offices of the Department of Lands and Forests in Baddeck. While we were there, we were also told about something else in the area that was a must-see; Cape Clear Look-off.

The person we spoke to had not been there in many years and the only thing he could tell us was that it was located off the Highland Rd. somewhere between Hunter’s Mountain and Cheticamp. It was too late to tackle the 19-kilometer trail to the North River Falls that day so we decided to instead set out into the Highlands in search of Cape Clear. After all, it couldn’t be that hard to find.

After driving for a while, we found a turn-off marked with a Cape Clear sign. We drove up only to discover that this road was littered with dozens of other unmarked side roads. We drove to the end of the first road which came to a dead end and satisfied that there was no look-off in sight, we drive back the way we came and began the tedious task of driving up every side road that went off the main one. But, that was to no avail as all those roads also had dozens of unmarked roads running off them.

Nightfall came quickly and by that time, we had checked only a small portion of the overall area and all we saw were trees and more trees and more roads. Disappointed, we headed for home, vowing to try again someday soon. That summer, my Dad and I didn’t get to North River Falls or Cape Clear. I ran out of time and had to head back to my job in the city. But, before I left that summer, we vowed to see both the next summer.

I returned home to Cape Breton this past August with anticipation for the adventures planned. For the first few weeks I was home, we were unable to embark on the hike to North River due to some unforeseen factors that came into play. When I arrived, Nova Scotia was going through a rare heat wave with temperatures climbing up in the 40’s Celsius. It was just too hot to embark on a hike that long and since Cape Clear was in the same area, we decided to wait until later in the summer to tackle both.

Mid-summer, hurricane Bill barreled through and caused the temperatures to drop for a few days but by that time, I was suffering from a bout of heat exhaustion due to the heat before the storm. I was off my feet for three days and by the time I was better, the hot weather was back in full force. It was starting to look like we would not get to North River or Cape Clear.

Approaching the last week of my vacation, the temperatures had returned to normal. We decided that this was the perfect time to attempt the long hike to North River Falls.

It was cool and overcast that day which was a good thing. We reached the head of the falls trail early that morning and by late afternoon, we made it back to the car with still enough time to make another attempt at finding Cape Clear. We made a quick stop at the Department of Lands and Forests again to get some clearer directions. Again, we were told the same thing. The person we spoke to had not been there in many years and couldn’t remember the exact location but he was able to provide us with a map marked with an X in the area he thought it might be.

We reached the same turn-off we came to the year before, followed the roads to where the X was and again, we were met with disappointment and a dead end with no look-off. There were no signs pointing us to the look-off which made us start to think that maybe the locals wanted to keep it hidden from outsiders. But, we were not deterred! We started trying different roads which all led to nothing. When nightfall came, we had no choice but to turn around, again without finding the elusive look-off. We were left wondering if we were sent on a wild goose chase and thinking that maybe it didn’t even exist.

A few days later, another opportunity to find Cape Clear came up. My sister, who works at the Keltic Lodge in Ingonish, requested that my dad and I take a trip up there to pay her a visit for the day. Since she was working until 5pm, we had the whole day to do whatever we wanted. The only thing we wanted to do was find Cape Clear and this time we were going to do it right!

Read the rest of this entry »