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Two Weeks in Tokyo, Part 1: Preparation & First Days

My view of Tokyo Tower on a glorious summer morning

A trip long time in the works

Right now travel to Japan is hot. Everyone and their brother and their third cousin twice removed has been making their way to the Land of the Rising Sun. The government closed the country to tourists for over two years during the COVID-19 pandemic, with individual travelers only being able to enter after 2 1/2 years. Thus a weak yen and people no longer wanting to put off their trip of a lifetime, Japan is now seeing record-breaking numbers of visitors.

Our trip though had been long in the making. I have wanted to take my daughter for many years. When she was in the first grade she did a presentation on Japan as the place she wanted to visit the most because, she said, the people there cared deeply about nature (this is the same kid who broke out in sobs during the class viewing of the great floating garbage patch in the Pacific Ocean). That same year C told her teacher she was part-Japanese so that could march in the school’s international parade with the small contingent of Japanese students.

C in heaven in the Japanese snack aisle

C has loved Pokémon, anime, Nintendo, and Japanese snacks for several years, and now as a teenager is very keen on the fashion. She has wanted to go to Japan soooo bad. Also, we love Disney amusement parks and Tokyo was the final park for us to visit (after four times each to Florida and Shanghai, two times to Paris, two times to California, and one time to Hong Kong).  And over 20 years ago I was an English teacher in Western Japan, and though we would not make it to my Japanese hometown, I still wanted to introduce my daughter to this country where I made so many memories.

I initially planned for us to visit while we were in Malawi, though the long distance and the complicated route were making me rethink it. Then the plan, for April 2020, was made impossible by the global pandemic.

Planning in advance, but not too far in advance

C and I would be traveling to Tokyo with our good friends CZ and her son Little CZ, with whom we have traveled together with in China, Paris, Finland, and on our London and Norway trip. After some discussion, we made the decision to only visit Tokyo as the mega-city offered ample cultural activities and sights to keep us plenty busy.

CZ and I are big travel planners; we really love it. For example, we have known we would go to Japan together in the summer of 2024 since sometime in 2022. We bought our plane tickets in the summer of 2023, as soon as the dates became available. We had our hotel in central Tokyo for the first part of the trip booked nine months out. And, we began to build our shared spreadsheet on places of interest about seven months out.

And then we were stymied because so much to see in Tokyo must be booked in advance, but not too far in advance. And it seemed every place has its own advance reservation rules. So many times we knew what we wanted to do, but we had to wait until the window of opportunity opened. This was a whole other level of planning detail that we had not been quite prepared for.

We were soooo lucky to score these unique film strip tickets to the Ghibli Museum!
  • Tokyo Disney hotels can be booked from 11 AM of the day four months before.
  • Tokyo Disney park tickets can be booked starting from 2 PM of the day two months ahead of your visit (and you cannot book multi day tickets or park hopper).
  • Imperial palace gardens tour can be booked from the first of the month preceding the month you want to visit.
  • Pokémon cafe – reservations are accepted from 6 PM 31 days out from desired visit date, but you need to be on the website at the moment reservations open and have a tremendous amount of luck.
  • Cup of Noodles Museum Yokohama – reservations can be made starting at 10 AM three months and one day prior to the day you wish to visit. 
  • Toyusu Market Tuna Auction tour – is offered through an advance lottery system: to visit one has to apply for lottery the first seven days of the month preceding the month of your visit and only 100 people selected per day. (We got it!) 
  • Ghibli museum – Visitors must have advance reservations, but one can only do so at 10 AM on the 10th of the month preceding the month of your visit. This was the most difficult of them all as there are only 200 tickets available in 4 entry times per day. CZ and I logged on to the website in advance.; at 15 minutes till the appointed hour, a countdown started on the website. At exactly 10 AM Tokyo time, we were brought into the virtual queue – CZ had about 2500 people in front of her and I had about 17,000!! It took about 15 minutes and CZ got in; she was booted out of her first attempt – probably sold out – but on her second attempt she got in and scored us our tickets!! It felt amazing! It felt like we had just one the lottery and I suppose in a way we did.  (I waited and I got in at 10:58 and nearly all days were completely sold out, just an hour after tickets sales for the month went live!!) 

Is your head about to explode? We thought ours might! Yet, against the odds, we lucked out time and again. Sadly, it did not work out for the notoriously difficult-to-get Pokémon Cafe. I set my alarm for 4:50 AM so I would be on at 6 PM 31 days in advance. I logged in and could see the tickets for my day were not yet available. I refreshed at 5 AM, and the site was immediately unavailable due to heavy usage. At 5:03 it cleared and every single entry for the day was already sold out! In three minutes.

The jet-lag busting plan and the first full day

Jet-lagged and faced with this shower!

It had been a long time since we had made a flight as long as that to Japan, 14 hours from Dulles Airport to Haneda Airport. To combat jet lag, I had us in bed at a decent time the night before our flight and then we slept in as long as we could. As our flight took off around noon, the plan was to stay awake as long as possible, falling asleep only the last few hours. We would disembark bleary eyed and shuffle our way through immigration at 3:30 PM Tokyo-time, but the equivalent of 2:30 AM Eastern Standard Time. I hoped we would get to our hotel room around 5 PM where we could collapse and sleep as much as we could.

The first part worked out well, but the second part a bit too well. I did not sleep on the plane at all and C only slept for 1.5 hours. I worried we would be extra grumpy in the immigration line, but managed to get through the surprisingly poorly-designed immigration line. It seemed the airport was not quite prepared for the tsunami of visitors; it took us at least an hour. But we remained awake and in good spirits.

We did not fall asleep in the taxi ride to the hotel. Nor did we do so immediately in the hotel room. We had showers and went out to get some food from the closest convenience store. It was nearly 8 PM when I finally just turned out the light after 23 hours straight without any shut-eye.

I knew we would wake up in the early morning hours, but I thought it would be even earlier than it was; we made it to 3:50 AM. Luckily, our hotel was smack dab in the bustling area of Roppongi in the world’s largest city. There were, at a minimum, eight 24-hour convenience stores within a 6-minute walk from our hotel. We visited at least one each of 7-Eleven, Daily Yamazaki, Lawson, and Family Mart, checking out all the Japanese goodies, and buying snacks along the way. Once we had been out at least three hours we took our haul back to the hotel room for an eclectic breakfast.

C’s digitally enhanced tea and matcha ice cream in the tea room of teamLab Borderless

Knowing we would have jet lag and expecting an early afternoon crash, we had only one thing planned for our first day. We met CZ and Little CZ at the teamLab Borderless digital art museum about 15 minutes from our hotel on foot. They had arrived in Tokyo a few days before us after a multi-stop journey to Dubai, Singapore, and Borneo, and thus were already adjusted to the time difference.

I find it hard to describe the teamLab installation; it really is something that must be experienced. A series of rooms with digital art projected on to the walls and spilling from room to room? The overflow from one room to another is why it is called “borderless.” Yet, this does not even begin to adequately describe the sensations of rooms large and small that defied my expectations. My favorite installations were: the Bubble Universe room filled with thousands of silver crystal orbs hanging from the ceiling that would light up at our proximity and the En Tea House which is so dimly lit that the colorful digital flowers that bloom from the tea or coconut matcha ice cream are even more vibrant as they spread out across the darkened liquid or black table top. We stayed in the museum for three hours.

You can indulge your hankering for Japanese KitKat flavors at Don Quixote

We grabbed lunch at the nearby Hard Rock Cafe Tokyo (C and I have a tradition of visiting Hard Rocks around the world). I was sure that after lunch C and I would drag our jet-lag-fogged selves back to the hotel. But we were still awake! The magnificent 7-story, 24-hour operated Don Quixote store across the street called to us and we all heeded. We spent at least an hour, and a good chunk of change, exploring every floor.

C and I then parted ways from our friends. I figured we were going to give in to the jet-lag at any minute and would be best off at our hotel when it happened. I don’t know how we did it, but we made it to 7:30 PM! Surely, this could not last, right? We would find out on day two…






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In and Around DC: Escapades of May & June 2024

The National Capitol Columns at the National Arboretum

As we come up on a year and a half back in the United States, C and I are embracing living close to Washington, D.C. As I grew up and spent some of my early 30s in the area, there are places I long planned to visit, but put off doing so, figuring I would do so eventually. But then I spent so many years away, and the places I had put off until “someday” did not become a reality. Until now. By shifting my mindset to seeing Washington, D.C. as an assignment, I feel more inclined to get out and about while we are here.

I had big plans for May, unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas. It seemed as if the old adage “April showers brings May flowers” had been reversed. We had an April of glorious weather, then May began with lower temps, overcast skies, and scattered showers. The first weekend was a washout, so I was especially keen to do something the second weekend. We headed to the Oatlands Historic House and Gardens located in Leesburg, Virginia, about 45 miles outside of D.C. I had fond memories of Oatlands; my parents have photos of me there as a baby, my mom took me as an older child, and I am sure there was a school fieldtrip there at some point. I really wanted to take my daughter there.

Sights around the historic Oatlands garden

Fortune though was not on my side. The mansion, built in 1803 and listed as a national historic landmark, was undergoing renovations; the scaffolding made even exterior photos unattractive. We had tickets to self-tour the garden and it was still pretty beneath the overcast sky, but then my plans to stroll the grounds afterward were foiled by the cooler than expected weather. We cut our losses and went to lunch.

Strawberries galore at Wegmeyer Farm’s Leesburg location

Luckily, the sky cleared and the temperatures warmed for our next activity – picking strawberries at the Wegmeyer Farms plot just down the road from Oatlands. I had a vague memory of strawberry picking when I was a young child, and I really wanted to do it with my daughter C. It was not quite what I had been expecting; I thought there would be a farm, maybe some attractive buildings or fences, something, but it was just rows of strawberry plants. We were handed a bucket and told to stay in one assigned row for the picking. Still, we did have fun and the strawberries were delicious.

The following weekend C had a Scout camping trip so I had hoped to do some sightseeing on my own, but the weather did not cooperate. Therefore, we planned to make the most of Memorial Day weekend. On Friday evening, we had the great pleasure of seeing my sister and nephew grace the stage in a community production of Anastasia. The show was fantastic and it was incredibly fun to see our family members take part. This is something we really missed out on when hundreds of miles away overseas.

On Saturday, C and I visited the Clara Barton National Historic Site in Glen Echo, Maryland. After we had both been to Antietam, where Clara Barton ministered to wounded on the battlefield, this made a good follow-on visit. The site preserves the home where Ms. Barton spent the last years of her life and also an early headquarters of the American Red Cross, which she founded. We were able to take a very good National Park Service (NPS) ranger-led tour that covered the first floor of the home, but unfortunately, the floor was bare of any furnishings and the upper floors were off limits due to upcoming renovations.

No worries, I thought, the Clara Barton site sits next door to another NPS-run Glen Echo Park. The park started first as an educational institute for adults called the Chautauqua in 1891. From 1911 to 1968, the site served as an area amusement park and was a site of civil rights protests in the latter years. It became a NPS-managed site in 1971 and then a place for arts and cultural performances in 2001, coming nearly full circle from the Chautauqua days. C and I though were primarily there for the 1921 Dentzel menagerie carousel, a National Historic Register site in its own right. C and I have long been a fan of historic carousels (or maybe it is mostly me; see also here and here). We did ride the carousel twice; we would have gone a third time except the carousel operator gave a very generous 20 or so times around each go, which was almost too much of a good thing. We walked a bit more around the park, but we found it sadly underutilized.

Jefferson did not have to contend with warning signs and prohibitions – he could just get right up on that rock

On Sunday, C and I headed to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia with friends. I absolutely love Harpers Ferry; its preserved history and attractive location at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers just 65 miles from DC, make it a great place to visit on a beautiful weekend. And it is another NPS-managed site. With 6 kids in total, my friends and I walked the 1.6 miles from the main parking to the lower town. It was another lovely day, warm, but not hot, and the trail through the trees and then alongside the road was pleasant. We visited several key sites in the town to include John Brown’s fort and the industry museum, walked across the bridge over the Potomac River to Maryland and back, up to Jefferson’s Rock, where our third president Thomas Jefferson reportedly stood in October 1783, had lunch, and, of course, got some ice cream.

We rounded out our month-and-then-some of getting out and about with our first professional soccer match when we went to see DC United play against Toronto at the six-year old Audi Field. C and I have been to the nearby Nationals Stadium for baseball games at least a handful of times, but had never seen a live soccer match before. Our seats afforded us a great view of the goal line and several corner kicks and the thrilling penalty kick by DC United that tied up the game. I expect we will see more games in the future!

Finally, I dragged C to the National Arboretum in D.C. for some walking and photography. It’s another site in the area I had long heard of and wanted to visit and at long last got around to. The highlight of the National Arboretum are the Capitol Columns, 22 Corinthian columns which were part of the United States Capitol building from 1828 to 1958, which now stand arranged in a meadow alongside a reflecting pool. It is a popular spot for photographers, walkers, and picnickers. I managed to walk a bit with C along a pretty trail near the columns, again in the Asian collection, and then the National Bonsai Museum, but she protested any further exploration for the day.

Sites at the National Arboretum – at the Asian collection, the Capitol Columns, and a bonsai tree

I continue to be grateful to be here in the DC area, where we have such opportunities for recreation and excursions practically in our backyard or within a day’s drive. It is a great reminder that travel need not involve many hours on an airplane.

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Tulips, Falls, and Hallowed Ground: April 2024 in DC

April is usually the real beginning of spring in Washington, D.C. This April also marked 15 months since our abrupt departure from Guinea and just a little over a year since we moved into our permanent apartment in the northern Virginia area. It was that last marker that feels the most significant. While my daughter C and I have been in and out of the northern Virginia area many times for training, some shorter, some longer, this April signaled a real milestone: the longest we had been in one place in the United States. For my daughter, it would be the longest in her 12 years. For me, the longest since 2008.

There are times when it feels strange indeed. To be a U.S. Foreign Service Officer who is not overseas. Of course, many U.S. FSOs work at headquarters in D.C. It is just the first time I am doing so, and I am still trying to wrap my head around it at times.

I decided I should be taking more advantage of the area with all of the history, culture, and nature close by and within just a few hours drive.

A sea of multi-colored tulips at Burnside Farms

Our first stop this month was the Burnside Farms’ Festival of Spring. I first heard about it last spring, but had not been quick enough to get tickets before it sold out. Yet for the first time in a long time in America, I could tell myself, well, there is always next year! Lucky for us, this year my daughter had a day off school scheduled in the middle of the festival and Wednesday morning tickets were much easier to come by. And when I found out a friend of mine was in town from Nicaragua for training and had brought her son along, we took her son with us to see the flowers. Rain was in the forecast, but again we lucked out; it was partly cloudy at first and then blazing blue skies.

I have long wanted to see the tulip blooms in the Netherlands. I have been to the country twice, but both times were in July, far too late to see the tulip fields. Burnside Farm’s spring festival was a nice substitute.

High and fast waters churn over Great Falls

The following Monday, C again had school off. I took her and her friend visiting from Nicaragua to Great Falls National Park for a short hike. With our annual National Park pass bought for our visits to Joshua Tree and Death Valley last December, we could visit Great Falls for no additional fees. It is extraordinary to me that these falls on the Potomac River and the protected wilds around them lie just 17 miles outside our nation’s capital. So close, and yet a world away. I came here a few times as a kid, with my mom and sisters I am sure, possibly with school groups. I came here again with C’s dad when she was a baby. We visited here when we were back from Malawi to hike with friend’s from there. C and her friend seemed to have a good time — the falls were cool of course, but there also seemed me to be a lot of Pokemon in the area they could catch with Pokemon Go… Well, sigh, they were still in nature.

The War Correspondents Memorial Arch

The next weekend, C and her Scouting troop had a two-day camping and bicycling at the Antietam National Battlefield, just outside of Sharpsburg, Maryland. I had often thought of visiting Antietam. Even once, maybe fifteen years ago (?), I drove to the entrance gates and grabbed a brochure intending to get out there sometime soon. I opted then to volunteer to drive my daughter and other Scouts to and from the campsite, but spend two nights in a nearby hotel doing some sightseeing on my own. I promised my daughter that should I see her at Antietam, I would pretend not to know her.

Getting C into Scouting has been one of the highlights of being in the U.S. The Antietam trip would be her fourth camping trip in the six months since she joined. I have been so impressed with all the skills, camaraderie, and confidence she has gained. And I loved the idea of us both seeing the same place around the same time, but in different ways.

Unlike C, who was camping at Antietam and traveling by bicycle, I had a car and decided to make the most of my day on my own. It turned out to be a day full of American history. I first headed to George Washington Monument State Park, just outside of Boonsboro, Maryland. Along the way, I drove through Gapland and stopped at the site of the War Correspondents Memorial Arch, built by George Townsend in 1896. Townsend worked as a Civil War correspondent in his early 20s and at just age 24 became famous for his articles on the Lincoln assassination. Outside of Boonsboro, I made my way to the site of the nation’s first monument to our first president. The squat 40-foot tall stone tower was reportedly built by the townsfolk of Boonsboro in a matter of days in 1827, twenty-one years before construction began on the more famous monument in Washington, D.C.

Though the temperatures were a comfortable warm and the skies a dazzling blue, the wind was high, especially atop South Mountain, and it whipped around the monument making it difficult to stay long to enjoy the view. And time was of the essence; I just had the one day to make the most of it.

On my way to Antietam, I made a quick stop at the Kennedy Farm, the location where for three months abolitionist John Brown and his fighters planned and practiced their doomed raid on Harper’s Ferry. Though part of the National Park Service, I was the only person there at the time. There are no park rangers or staff on the site; there is just a small lockbox just inside the door where visitors can leave a donation. Given its importance, I had expected more. But I suppose it is enough that it is preserved.

I made sure to return to Antietam as the sun was setting to experience it without the crowds and capture a sunset photo

Then it was on to Antietam, where I spent the rest of the day, some walking, some driving. I never did run into C or her troop, though we talked about their visit on the hour and a half drive home the next day. We talked about the Potomac River, which we had just seen the frothing at Great Falls a few weeks before, to where General Robert E. Lee had crossed into the North, and the river as it passed near the battlefield. We talked of the significance of Antietam, the U.S.’ bloodiest single day in American military history, from the first battlefield photography to the role of Clara Barton, who would go on to found the American Red Cross. It is important to me that while we are in the U.S., that my daughter, who has spent thus far the majority of her life overseas, gets to experience the conveniences of our country but also is exposed to our history.

Fast moving small falls heading to the Great ones

C and I wrapped up our April 2024 local sightseeing with a trip to the portion of the Chesapeake and Ohio (C&O) Canal National Historical Park on the Maryland side of the Potomac, across from Great Falls I remember as a kid wanting to visit this spot (and for some reason I was desperate to ride a canal boat through the old locks), but only recall us ever visiting Great Falls on the Virginia side. With C spending so much more time outdoors with the Scouts and her love of scrambling over boulders after our trip to Joshua Tree, I figured we were up for a hike along the Billy Goat Trail.

We were blessed with yet another incredibly gorgeous day, perfect for a hike by the falls. While there were a good number of other folks on the trail, it was not what I would call crowded, so it had just the right amount of hiking without a lot of waiting or noise from other hikers without the “oh my goodness, I haven’t seen another person in an hour, I hope I am not lost forever” feeling. We saw a good amount of wildlife from a black snake to a great blue heron and frogs to geese, had a wonderful workout, and some great mother-daughter time.

C surveys the Potomac River front an overlook on the Billy Goat Trail

All-in-all it was a great month for activities around our area. And while this might seem to some not to be the most exotic of blog post destinations, especially considering the locations we have traveled to, for us, who have spent so much time outside the country, the ease in planning and executing visits to such places and the variety of places to go and things to do, is not something I want to take for granted. In the majority of places where we lived, we had only a fraction of these sorts of things to do. We are looking forward to seeing more!

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Escape and Escapades: Spring Break in Roatan

Late last September, with the summer firmly over and our Christmas train trip arranged, I turned my eyes to planning our spring break getaway.

I knew I wanted to be somewhere warm, but also someplace not too taxing or far from home, so I zeroed in on the Caribbean. We would have only a week for the Spring Break / Easter week and early on the airfares and mile redemptions for the week were a disappointment to say the least. (Perhaps prices will never return to pre-COVID levels? It sure feels like it.) Honduras looked to be a good choice and initially, I had planned on time in both the Bay Islands and on the mainland, but quickly realized that to secure a lower airfare and a less stressful holiday, it would be best to shorten the holiday and just stay in one place.

I am glad I kept it simple. Early in 2024, my mom ended up in the hospital and I became the primary point of contact for calls with various medical staff, case managers, and more. With the daily medical discussions and issues that could take from one to six hours, I began to contemplate canceling our trip altogether. In the end, I got her treatment to a certain point where I felt I could split the difference such that I would still have some much-needed rest and relaxation and mother-daughter time, while also making daily check-ins related to my mom’s care. It was far from ideal, but I believe it was a good compromise.

Roatan from the air–demonstrating some of the reef system surrounding the island

Roatan is a fascinating place. It’s history, which includes a visit by Christopher Columbus, serving as a hangout for infamous pirates like Blackbeard, and once being a British colony, has shaped Roatan differently than the Honduran mainland. Although the British ceded the Bay Islands, including Roatan, to Honduras in 1861, it took nearly a hundred years before Spanish was taught on the islands’ schools. Today, English is still the first language of the islanders.

Roatan is a popular tourist destination for nature and adventure activities. It’s location along the world’s second largest barrier reef, the Mesoamerican, makes it an extremely popular scuba diving site. Roatan also boasts two cruise ship terminals, the first opening in 2008 and the second two years later. For an island only 40 miles long and 5 miles wide and a population somewhere between 50,000-100,000 people, two cruise ship terminals disgorging some 3,000 to 10,000 passengers a day in high season is astonishing. All these North American travelers have made the U.S. dollar the currency of choice on Roatan, vice the Honduran lempira.

The pineapple seller heads home

I knew none of this. I usually research the heck out of where I am going. I like to know the history and current situation; I like to know the language, currency, and exchange rate. But this time, with all the stuff going on with my mom, I left much up to chance. I booked our flights, reserved our hotel, and looked up, but did not schedule, a thing for us to do.

On Sunday morning, C and I celebrated Easter a week early and then that night flew to Houston. We stayed the night then flew on to Roatan early Monday morning, arriving at our hotel, the Bananarama Dive and Beach Resort in West Bay, in time for a hectic lunch rush during a steamy tropical beach day. Ahhhhh…it felt amazing to be warm.

I struggle with stepping back and doing little. I like to keep engaged. But here it was our first day on the island and I had nothing at all planned. I had not even booked transport from the airport to West Bay. It only occurred to me as we boarded our plane in Houston that it could be a problem. Luckily I quickly checked the interwebs, reserved and paid for a taxi, and hoped for the best. I really thought it was 50-50 anyone would actually come and figured I might have just thrown $25 away. I was pleasantly surprised to find a driver with a cute handwritten sign with my name waiting for us in arrivals!

C holds Charlie the Sloth

Therefore on our first day, all C and I did was make reservations for some activities on following days, walk on the beach, checked out the nearby shopping plazas, and lie about in the hammock or chairs on our bungalow porch.

On our second day, we headed to Jungle Top Adventures for an exciting few hours of ziplining and animal interactions. There seem an abnormally high ratio of zipline locations per population on Roatan, due to all those cruises. When we booked the zipline, we were not told which we were heading to, and I was a tad disappointed to find ours was located in Coxen Hole, the island’s main town, directly across from one of ports where two massive cruise ships were docked.

As I had read it is best to visit the animal park first because the sloths — the main attraction — can only be held by a limited number of persons before they are too tired, that was our first stop. While we did enjoy seeing to coati and the Yucatan white-tailed deer (Honduras’ national mammal) and meeting the monkeys and macaws, the sloths were the star of the show and one of the top reasons we chose to visit Roatan. C and I were both able to hold a sloth for about five minutes. With their arms around our necks and their legs around our waist, it was almost like holding a baby. The experience did not disappoint.

Next we headed to the zipline. We had to wait about 10 minutes before we could join the truck taking participants to the first of 16 zipline platforms. While the guides kitted us up, two more truckloads of adventurers arrived. All in all we had to wait 30 minutes before all our zipline guides arrived and zipped off to man the various platforms. However, once everyone had their gear and the guides were in place, we were zipped across the lines rapidly, like an assembly line. I had hoped to get a photo or video of my daughter, but she was hooked up and then off with such speed I hardly had time to react before it was my turn. When I arrived at the platform, C was already zipping on to the next. At the midway point though we all crowded together again. This time I was able to video C taking a running leap off the platform and then flipping upside down — of all the ziplines I have done in various places this was the first and only place I had heard of that being allowed.

C and I and our group prepare for our submersible scooter experience

On Wednesday, we did the most extraordinary activity! We glided through the water in a Breathing Observation Submersible Scooter (BOSS). I had initially booked for Friday, but the company emailed me on Tuesday afternoon to inform me that Thursday and Friday were predicted to be poor weather, but they could accommodate us earlier.

I have to admit, I was a wee bit scared to do this. I enjoy being warm and near the water; to feel sand between my toes, but I am not comfortable in the ocean. I get sea sick on boats. I am not comfortable in the ocean. I once tried to learn to scuba dive in the Philippines and kept freaking out during the basic water practice. I am just much more a landlubber and I get most of my fish experiences at aquariums (which I LOVE to visit). But C was excited to give it a try and so I thought I should be brave and give it a go.

The scooters work on the principle of an air pocket forming in a glass underwater. To get in, the scooters are held just below the water’s surface with the air pocket already formed in the large diving bell-like helmet. Then compressed air, just like the tanks used for diving, is pumped into the helmet. One has to hold one’s breath for just a few seconds to duck under and bring their head into the helmet. Well, it sounds simple. C did it in one go. I freaked out. It took me five times to get up the courage to get in. Thankfully, C went first and did not see that. Once everyone is in, the scooters are lowered to their maximum depth of ten feet. Then one can controls the scooter just like a scooter on land — with a toggle switch for speed and moving the handle bars to the sides to turn.

We visited the Roatan Chocolate Factory in West End after our underwater scooter experience

I wear glasses and unlike in snorkeling, where I have to accept blurred vision because I am not going to spring for a prescription mask, I could wear my glasses while operating the underwater scooter! I also have a lot of ear and sinus issues and that (along with a fear of sharks and running out of air and drowning) is what keeps keep from scuba diving. At the depth of the scooters, I could feel the pressure on my ears and I struggled to pop them, having to do so repeatedly, but I could manage. I have never been able to see a reef and fish underwater like I could on the scooter and I found myself laughing with delight. Also, because the giant helmets made everyone’s heads look really tiny on top of their bodies.

Thursday and the first part of Friday did turn out to have poor weather. Though it did not rain during the day, the winds picked up substantially, up to 25 mph, making the seas very choppy. Nearly all activity stopped along the beach. Though West Bay is a nice beach, it is not very wide, and on sunny days the beach chairs take up a good third to half of the sandy real estate and the crowds of beachgoers take up most of the rest. So though it was very breezy, it was still nice and warm, and I took strolls along the shore, while C chilled out in our hammock. I welcomed the respite. If the weather had been perfect, I would have felt compelled to be doing something, but as it wasn’t, I was off the hook. I did have to make several phone calls and emails related to my mom and I had time to do them, while also feeling sand between my toes and a deliciously warm wind all around.

The wind kicks up the waves around the water taxi pier in West Bay

The sun returned on Saturday, our last day, so C and I headed out to parasail. This would be C’s first time ever and my second, but my first time parasail in tandem. During my first time, in the Bay of Islands, New Zealand, the boat motor stopped when the woman after me was up, and her parachute slowly sunk back down to the ocean. She had to unfasten herself and swim back to the boat. I had thanked my lucky stars it had not been me, but admit that I had been a little scared to parasail since. I am happy to report that C and I did it without a single incident.

That afternoon C wanted to stand-up paddleboard (SUP). It had been on our list for the trip in a large part because our hotel had advertised it as being readily available. And yet throughout the week we had not seen anyone paddleboarding. When I went to ask at our activity kiosk I was told they didn’t have any paddleboards, and then the guy corrected it to, um, no paddleboards that work well. I really wondered about their secret defective paddleboards. At the next kiosk they told me they could get me paddleboards, but could they have ten minutes to “find” them? Turned out they could only locate one, so I left it to C to show me how it is done.

C looks pretty cool doing SUP at sunset

Unfortunately, C had only done SUP once before – at the lake during last summer’s camp. Doing it in the ocean on a busy beach turned out to be a whole new level. Still she managed pretty well. She took a little break after 15 minutes and let me give it a try. I only made it to a crouching position before falling off and struggled to maneuver around the crowds of bobbing heads. It became clear pretty quickly why SUP seems to have fallen by the wayside in Roatan, at least during the busy season.

Then just like that our six days in Roatan was over. Afterwards, once we returned home, it felt short, but during the trip it felt just right. It gave me just the right amount of time to rest, deal with issues at home, and spend mother-daughter time with C while doing amazing activities or just chilling out together.

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2023 Winter Vacay: A Trip Down Memory Lane, Part 3, La-la-land

Los Angeles’ beautiful Union Station: where I arrived in the city in 1984 and 2023

In 1984, when my family traveled to Los Angeles by cross-country train, we stayed with my mother’s cousin in Dana Point, about an hour south of the city center. This was not a part of the trip I wanted to recreate. Though C and I did visit that cousin when we went to California in 2016, she had moved to Carlsbad. That house from 1984 later slid off the cliffside. 

Instead, I had booked a hotel very close to the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the Chinese Theater, two sights I do remember us visiting in 1984. I did not want to drive around Los Angeles if I could avoid it. In 1984, mother and aunt rented an automatic transmission car that neither could drive very well (they were used to manual cars and my mom kept hitting the brake thinking it was the clutch), which made city driving even more….challenging. C and I could get to the sights we wanted to see on foot or by Uber.

Arriving three hours late following a 43.5-hour train ride, C and I were very eager to get off the train, get to the hotel for showers, and then for a walk to really stretch our legs. The sun was shining, the palm trees were swaying, and the temperature was in the mid-60s. 

Grauman’s Chinese Theater – it looks much the same as in 1984, only with some added digital screens and some shorter and more efficient cars driving past

Our luggage arrived quickly and I called an Uber. Our driver had his GPS set to Mandarin Chinese so I thought I would speak a little and this delighted both myself and the driver. At the hotel, we were lucky to be able to check in early, something we probably would not have been able to do had we arrived on time, so we also freshened up before hitting Hollywood Boulevard. 

Most of the walk to the Chinese Theater was quiet, that is until we turned onto the Boulevard itself. It was packed full of tourists, vendors, and folks in cosplay working the crowd for paid photo-ops. We saw people dressed as Freddy Krueger, The Mask (the Jim Carrey movie), Michael Jordan, the Joker, Spiderman, Mickey Mouse, a Transformer, and many more I just do not recall. There were a lot and it was hard to get past some of them. We popped into the Chinese Theater courtyard – mostly so I could tell C it was the same place I had visited when I was 11. And that was it. That was all we did in 1984, too! 

We got lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. It has become a bit of a tradition for C and I, with us having dined in at least six Hard Rock establishments in the past three years. We were rather desperate to sit down at a table and eat in a restaurant, i.e. not fruit and granola bars from a bag at our coach seats. And there was the sensation still of rocking back and forth as if we were still on the train. The food and drink restored us and we were then able to get out and about.

I focused on seeking out the Hollywood stars that would have been on the Walk of Fame in 1984

We spent the rest of the day checking out various shops, especially Japanese and Korean fashion and goodies shops, and looking at the various celebrity names on the stars of the Hollywood Walk of Fame. At the time of my visit in 1984, there were around 1,770 Walk of Fame stars; but in December 2023 there were 1,000 more. We walked down to Thai Town, the only such ethnic Thai neighborhood officially recognized in the U.S., as C had a specific store she wanted to visit. On our walk back, we passed lines of vintage cars along the Boulevard. It was Saturday night and the classic and lowrider vehicles were out cruising.

Hollywood Boulevard lighting up as the sun goes down

On our second day in Los Angeles, C and I went to Universal Studios Hollywood. During my 1984 visit with my family, a visit to the theme park had been one of the highlights. This would be C’s first visit to a Universal Studios amusement park and we were eager to get on as many of the rides as we could. I especially wanted to take C on the famous Tram Tour, one of the few parts of the visit I remembered. The part of the tour with the mechanical great white shark from JAWS was seared into my memory.

Once in the park, I realized almost none of the current attractions would have been part of my 1984 visit. C and I were really looking forward to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, but think about it, the first Harry Potter book was published in 1997, 13 years after my trip to Los Angeles. The Revenge of the Mummy ride, the one C and I made a beeline for as soon as we got into the park, is based on the popular Mummy movie franchise; the first of those movies was released in 1999. The Kung Fu Panda Adventure? Based on a movie released in 2008. C and I were able to get on nearly all the rides at the park. Because the temperatures were in the 60s, we opted to skip the water-based ride as we did not want to get wet. I remembered teasing my younger brother about the Jurassic Park movies way back when, but then with the first one released in 1993, it did not go back quite as far as our 1984 trip. Even the Simpsons ride, though based on television’s longest-running American primetime show, would not have been around back then. The show first aired in December 1989. Oh my, I was starting to feel old.

This building facade is based on the Despicable Me movie, which came out in 2010

The Universal Studios Park of 1984 (there was no need to designate it as the park in Hollywood as it was the only one of its kind: the park in Florida opened in 1990) was largely just stage shows. Animal shows, stunt shows, shows based on specific TV shows, and the tram tour. I remember seeing an Indiana Jones show. The first movie opened in 1981 and I had seen it probably 20 times. It was my favorite movie!

At least the tram tour through the Universal Studios backlot still has a few stops from 1984 – JAWS, the flash flood, and the Bates Motel. The icy tunnel, the collapsing bridge, and the terrible Battlestar Galactica sets were no longer there. It was kind of a shock to me to pass by the courthouse square that was such a huge part of the Back to the Future movies (my second favorite after Indiana Jones) and realize it would not have been there in 1984, as the first of the movies was not released until the following year. And yet my almost 12-year-old kiddo stared blankly at the set, as she was unfamiliar with the movies.

We spent all day at the park. It was Christmas Eve, and though the weather had been lovely all day with the sun up, as the sun set, it grew chilly. It was time to head back to the hotel to get some shut-eye before the next phase of our trip.

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2023 Winter Vacay: A Trip Down Memory Lane, Part 2, All Aboard!

A quick peek at Mendoza, Illinois as we sped past

Boarding at Chicago’s Union Station was a straightforward affair. An announcement asked all Southwest Chief passengers to move toward our gate. Tickets were checked and Amtrak officials lined us up according to our class and destination. We shuffled forward, then onto the train. It was slow moving as passengers plodded up the narrow stairs to the second floor seating. But soon enough we were ensconced in our seats; our belongings safely nestled in the overhead storage. And then there was the whistle and the call of “All Aboard!” followed by the train pulling out of the station. 

I love train travel. I enjoy gazing out the windows and watching the passing scenery – from urban to rural, plains to mountains, through cities, towns, and villages – and the freedom to move around or read or snooze all while we glide, lightly rocking, along the rails. Over my many years of traveling, I have taken many a long train trip. When I backpacked around Europe in the early 2000s, I often took the train between cities and countries. But I have also ridden trains in places like India, New Zealand, Japan, Korea, Sri Lanka, My overnight train journey locations have included from Malaysia, China, Thailand, Australia, Europe, Egypt, and Finland. Yet, I believe the only multi-night train trip I had taken was the 1984 trip cross country trip I took with my mother, sisters, aunt, and cousin, upon which I was basing this new trip. 

C at our first fresh air stop

I booked C’s and my seats in the interest of authenticity and cost. Though I had looked at the roomettes and sleeping cars, the price tag was much more than I was willing to part with. And in 1984, we had all made the journey in coach. Whenever I thought about this upcoming trip, I felt both a shiver of excitement and trepidation. I had been 11 in 1984; my current, much older self, did not have quite the ability or agility to sleep in all manner of places and positions. A few years ago, I pulled something in my back just reaching down to pick up a paperback book! I wondered what two nights curled up in a chair might do to me.

Coach seats on trains are far more comfortable and spacious than those on planes. C and I had two seats together. There are no middle seats on the train. We had ample space between our seats and those in front of us. The seats recline – and though they are not flat, they do go further back than on a plane. There is also a leg rest, which extends parallel to the seat. And, if your legs are long enough, there is a footrest that may be raised from the seat in front of you. I had packed a fleece blanket, travel pillow (well, for C a large squishmallow), eye masks, and ear plugs for each of us. Before we left our hotel in Chicago, I moved those to our carry on and packed away our coats and colder weather gear into our one large bag, which we then checked with Amtrak in Chicago. 

I had not expected Colorado to look like this

The first few hours passed quickly. We dined on apples, granola bars, Goldfish crackers, and string cheese we had bought in Chicago. With it being the winter solstice, the sun set around 4:30 PM, only a little over an hour and a half after we left Chicago. Thus when we crossed the Mississippi River around 7:30 PM, it was long dark. I was disappointed. One of the things I remember from the 1984 train trip was the excitement us kids had in crossing the great river. Unfortunately, I realized, by taking this trip in winter we would have far less time to gaze upon the scenery. But the darkness and the gentle rocking of the train did make it easier to become drowsy. We made up our little coach chair beds and went to sleep.

I woke the next morning just after 6 AM with a jolt of the train. I was a bit surprised to find us in Garden City, Kansas because I recalled a stop in Kansas the night before. The train must slow down greatly as it makes it way through the state. 

Entering New Mexico

We were soon to cross into Colorado, but just outside of small town of La Junta, our train stopped for at least 30 minutes. It turned out it was to let a freight train pass by. The first of many (that I was aware of) that would delay our journey. La Junta was a destinated crew rest stop and thus the first of our “fresh air” breaks when passengers could get off to stretch their legs. C got off only so she could then say she had visited Colorado. I just kept walking up and down the platform for a good 45 minutes as I had no idea how many fresh air opportunities we might have. 

From the train window we saw a coyote run by. I decided to go to the observation car to better see the scenery. C did not want to join. She wanted to take selfies, play games, listen to music, and message her friends on her new phone (an early Christmas gift from her dad). I asked her many times to join me in the observation car and yet she always said no. This too was something different from my 1984 trip. I had my sisters and my cousin — and we had no electronic devices. 

Snow on New Mexican plains

The train trains climbed in elevation. La Junta is located at just above 4,000 feet above sea level. We began to see snow blanketing the ground as we climbed into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the southernmost subrange of the Rocky Mountains. Then we went through the Raton Tunnel and entered New Mexico. At 7,588 feet, its the highest pass of the Santa Fe Trail and a National Historic Landmark. This was a particularly exciting part for me as I remember my sisters, cousin, and I moving quickly to the end of the train so that we could watch us exit the tunnel. And we must have been a bit rowdy in doing so as we were shushed by a few passengers and then the conductor made an announcement. Something like children having to remain in their designated cars unless accompanied by an adult. That did put a damper on our fun. 

We ate lunch in the cafe. I alternated my time reading at my seat or in the observation car, sometimes striking up conversations with other passengers. This too is something special about train travel. On an airplane, one can only really talk with one’s seatmate or perhaps very briefly with someone while in line for the toilet or in the galley on longer haul flights. But on a train? One can really meet people. 

Bison in New Mexico. We saw bison, elk, pronghorn, and a coyote from the train.

There was Jimmy, the guy who single-handedly ran the cafe the whole journey. It opens at 6 AM and closes at 11 PM. He took breaks here and there. One time when C and I were down there and he needed to leave the car he pointed at me and said, “Mom, you are in charge until I get back.” He had a great personality. He has been working for Amtrak for 17 years. Though he has done many of the routes, he has spent the last decade on the Southwest Chief. 

Sandy was taking Amtrak for the first time and she decided go big or go home and booked herself a sleeper car. She wanted to arrive in L.A. rested so she could watch her beloved Michigan team play in the Rose Bowl. 

A guy from Gallup, NM was heading to L.A. just to catch his friend, Chicano rapper Mr. Criminal, in concert. Then turn around the next day and head home. 

When I told an Amish couple from Michigan that my daughter and I had recently visited Lancaster, PA, they asked where we had stayed. When I told them we stayed at the Red Caboose Motel, the husband nodded knowingly and told me his uncle owns it. 

Barstow, CA train station in the early morning fog

For our second evening dinner, we opted to eat fancy in the dining car. As it was just C and I, we were seated with young 20-something brother and sister from Kansas who both worked at their dad’s truck mechanic shop. According to them, Garden City was a bit boring, but they had plans. They were heading to L.A. with their parents to celebrate with their grandma before she moved back to Mexico, and maybe get matching tattoos with their mom, if they could convince her. 

We were supposed to arrive in Albuquerque around 3:30 PM on our second night. I was looking forward to this stop as it had been a highlight of the 1984 trip. I remember the light was bright and golden. While the station crew washed the train, I bought a pair of turquoise earrings from one of the Native American women selling on the platform. Unfortunately, this time we pulled into the Albuquerque station three hours behind schedule, long after sundown. C and I got off to stretch our legs during the 50-minute stop. And wouldn’t you know it, there on the platform was a sole vendor selling handmade jewelry! I happily bought C a bracelet. 

I did not sleep as well the second night. I kept waking to the loud whoosh and rocking reverberation of other trains speeding past ours. A nightmare caught hold of my brain and I awoke, feeling afraid of the train! But C, my world traveling buddy, slept on. 

The Southwest Chief slides through the San Gabriel Mountains on its approach to Los Angeles

Arrival in L.A. was scheduled for 8 AM, so we were up by 6:30 to finish up the last of our food for breakfast and pack up. Unfortunately, we had made up no time in the night and would arrive in L.A. several hours late. Though the changing scenery from the deserts to scrub then the San Gabriel mountains to the densely populated urban areas of California’s southwest were lovely, it did begin to feel as though I might have been on this train longer than two days. 

Finally, 43.5 hours after our departure from Chicago, the train pulled into Los Angeles’ Union Station. Though grateful to be off the train, I was very glad to revisit this journey from my youth. Though C only proclaimed the trip “okay,” I hope that she will remember this journey with her mom for years to come as I did. I might have begun plotting other long distance train trips. 

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2023 Winter Vacay: A Trip Down Memory Lane, Part 1, Chicago

A view from the Southwest Chief as we traversed New Mexico

Early last summer, with our summer vacation plans settled, I turned my mind to where we might go during the winter holidays. Though I wanted to finally have our southern Africa jaunt, which had been canceled multiple times due to COVID and our curtailment from Guinea, it still did not seem the time. International airfares remained quite high and C’s school district had decided on only a week and a half winter holiday break. Given my tendency to flee cold weather if I can, I wanted very much to find a warm, or at least warmer, place to spend the holidays. I looked at international destinations closer to home, like the Caribbean, but those airfares also seemed ridiculously (at least to me) costly. So, it seemed a domestic trip would be the way to go. Yet, I did not want just any old vacation…

In the summer of 1984, my mother, my two sisters, my aunt, and my cousin set out on a cross-country train journey to California. My aunt, L, worked for Amtrak in Pittsburgh and could purchase discounted tickets. My mother drove with my sisters and I to Pittsburgh to meet L and my 12-year old cousin Dan. I was eleven; my sisters 9 and 7. We boarded the train in Pittsburgh and traveled to California via Chicago over the next two days. We then visited L’s daughter and some major sights in the area before flying home. I had fond memories of this trip, my first great adventure. 

Downtown Chicago on a cold, clear winter’s day

I was hooked on this idea, but there were a few more details to work out. First, I looked into Amtrak prices and discovered that while C is under the age of 13 her ticket would be 50% the cost of mine. This then seemed the ideal time to go; she would also be the same age I was when I made that train trip with my mom. I researched starting our trip from Washington, DC, but I did not relish the idea of an additional 20 hours of travel, so opted to fly to Chicago and start from there. Finally, though I worried about undertaking this journey in winter, I learned that trains are far less affected by weather than planes. My plans fell into place. 

We flew out on a Tuesday evening for Chicago. In 1984, we had only a five-hour stopover in the Windy City between the arrival of the train from Pittsburgh and our next departure, during which we made a speedy visit to the Museum of Science and Industry. I have zero memories of the museum, only a sense of rushing about. For C’s first visit to Chicago, I wanted more than a few hours. 

A dolphin caught mid-jump in the Shedd Aquarium with a view of the tip of Northerly Island and Lake Michigan

Chicago would be the coldest stop on our itinerary. It could have been really, really chilly, but we had a beautiful crisp winter day. In the morning, C and I went to the Shedd Aquarium. I have long loved visiting aquariums and have instilled this same feeling in my daughter. Together we have visited amazing aquariums all over the world. The Shedd is one of the best for many reasons, but it is also one of the few where one can see beluga whales. They also had, to our delight, an exhibit on Lake Malawi. 

We spent nearly four hours at the Aquarium. C wanted to go back to the hotel room and vegetate, but I wanted to force march her downtown. I won. It was too lovely of a day and, starting the next afternoon we would be largely confined to a train for 40 hours, so I wanted to stretch my legs while I could. We had a nice, long walk alongside Lake Michigan to Millennium Park. We stopped to see the 45-foot tall Christmas tree and to watch ice skaters just below the famous Cloud Gate sculpture known as “The Bean.” Unfortunately, the Bean was inaccessible during the renovation of the Plaza. From there we took a long walk back to our hotel through the downtown streets of Chicago. 

Nederlander theater marquee before our show

Besides my five-hour visit to the city in 1984, I had only visited Chicago twice before. Once around 1995, I spent a few days visiting a friend of mine doing her Ph.D. at the University of Chicago, and then again for a long weekend around 2006 when I ran the Chicago Half Marathon. Visiting made me first think it odd that I have spent so little time in one of my country’s greatest cities; there is so much to see and do. But also I realized how much had changed since my visits. When my sisters and I visited the Museum of Science and Industry in 1984, it was free of charge. Today it would cost $122.70 for our entourage. There was no Cloud Gate sculpture in Chicago until 2009 and the city’s tallest building, the Willis Tower, was called the Sears Tower during my previous visits having only been renamed in 2009. I am now officially one of those people who waxes lyrical or gushes annoying, depending on your perspective, about “the way things used to be.” 

That evening, C and I headed to the Nederlander Theater to see a Chicago performance of the musical Hamilton. C and I have become enthusiasts of musical theater. Hamilton would be our fifth of the year after Aladdin in New York, We Will Rock You on our Norwegian fjord cruise ship, Wicked in London, and Evita in Washington, D.C., though it is the only musical C really asked to see. I am not sure when or where she first learned about it, but during the year she spent the 4th grade in the U.S. she became quite into it. She watched the play on Disney+ with our Malawian nanny, she sang the songs in the shower and with friends, and she dressed as Hamilton for Halloween in 2022. Tickets in New York were more than my wallet could spare, but they were more affordable in Chicago. It was a treat to surprise her with the show and the performance was spectacular. 

Christmas in Chicago’s Union Station

Our second day in Chicago was not even a full day as our train would depart at 14:50. I looked into us trying to squeeze some activity in during the morning but though my 1984-self certainly could cram in a quick visit to a museum (no doubt encouraged by my mother) and I am sure my 1995- and 2006-selves would surely have given it a go, my 2024-self did not want to be rushed. C was keen on a visit to the Field Museum, but the recommended visit time of four hours meant there was not enough time. I checked if we might visit the top of the Willis Tower, only a 10-minute walk from our hotel, but the morning times were all sold out. So we slept in. I thought that a good move given I did not know how well we might sleep on the train the next two nights. And I walked over to a nearby supermarket to get us lunch and some provisions for the train.

Then after lunch in the comfort of our hotel room, we packed up our belongings and made the short walk over to Chicago’s Union Station. Among throngs of harried commuters, excited families in matching pajama sets awaiting their trip on Chicago’s version of the Polar Express, and other travelers off on all sorts of travel near and far across the nation, we awaited the boarding call for our own train, the Southwest Chief, bound for Los Angeles and stops in-between. Our short stopover in Chicago had already come to an end. 

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A Weekend Getaway in Lancaster, PA

Amish carriages parked in the early morning in Ronks, PA

One of the good things about being in the U.S. now are the many opportunities for wonderful weekend getaways. And though my 11-year old is extremely well traveled internationally, she has far less experience in our home country. It is important to me that she has the opportunity to see sights around the U.S. that also introduce her to the variety of cultures, history, people and places that our nation offers.

For the Veteran’s Day weekend, I decided C and I would visit Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I have vague memories of visiting the area when I was a child, perhaps 8 or 9 years old, with a friend and her mom, also a single mother. But other than having spent a day there, I had no other recollections. With good weather and a fair amount of trees still in their autumnal leaf glory, Lancaster seemed a great place to get away from our every day.

A delicious assortment of macarons at Bistro Barberet

Our first stop in Lancaster was the Bistro Barberet, an authentic French restaurant and bakery owned and operated by an award winning French chef located in the historic downtown area. C loves French pastries and desserts and insisted she needed some bona fide macarons a.s.a.p. She left with the macarons, which must have passed muster as she ate every one of them (I got none).

Next we headed to the Lancaster Central Market. Founded in 1730 as part of the town’s original design, the market is the longest continuously operating public market in the country. It’s 60-some vendors offer a little bit of the old – from fresh local produce, homemade canned and dried goods, and family-owned meat, seafood, and poultry options – to the new, including Puerto Rican, Thai, and West African foods. Once inside, C immediately made a beeline for the West African stall as she identified the flags of Guinea and Liberia on the stall at once. Though we had not really immersed ourselves into the local food scene in Conakry, the flag was a pleasant reminder of both our personal journey and the international connections around us. C really loved the market. She tried the local favorites like soft pretzels and whoopie pies, and declared the market a wonder that she wished were closer to us.

Hankering for something a bit more substantial for lunch, we headed up the street to Brooklyn Pizza Grill & Pasta. It was a little chilly and overcast with a slight drizzle outside, but the wafting smell of fresh baked pizza, the heat from the ovens, and the cheery greetings from the staff were very welcoming. There are only a few tables, so we perched on bar stools at the small table in the window as we chowed down on delicious hot and greasy New York style pizza as upbeat salsa tunes encircled us. Fantastic!

That afternoon we had bookings for the Amish House & Farm tour. For some reason, I thought the tour meeting spot would be just nearby, and when I learned I had a 25-minute drive we made a hasty retreat over. I was a little surprised to find an 1805 farmhouse in a Target-anchored shopping center, but we ended up having a wonderful tour. We started with a 90-minute bus tour through the surrounding countryside accompanied by commentary from the guide on the history and culture of the Amish. We made three stops at Amish businesses along the way. At the first we never even got inside the store as the small petting zoo with adorable goats, the soft pretzel stand, and the large bin of free pumpkins kept C and I plenty busy during the 15-minute break. The second stop was a small single-family run housefront store with handmade goods, many made by the family’s children. At the third, we spent nearly the entire time in the barn as C and several other children from the tour oohed, aahed, and cooed over a little of adorable havapoo puppies for sale. Back at the farmhouse, we had the opportunity for a further 30 minute tour of a mostly typical Amish home. Though I think the puppies were C’s favorite (ok, maybe mine too), the tour was very educational for us both.

Our “room” at the Red Caboose Motel at Paradise Station in Ronks, PA

We were to also have a self-guided tour of the adjacent farm, but with the recent time with daylight savings, the farm was far too dark to check out when we finished the house tour. We drove on to our hotel–the delightful Red Caboose Motel in Ronks, PA, where we would spend the next two nights in a renovated train caboose. We loved our room at once – it was cleverly converted and very cosy. C had her choice of 4 bunk beds but chose instead to squeeze in with me in the double; though she often asserts her independence, I think she might have been intimidated by her first stay in what essentially looked like a train yard. Dinner (and the following morning’s breakfast) was hearty portions of Americana in the Casey Jones’ restaurant where patrons sit in two train dining cars.

It is perhaps impossible to capture the pure joy of experiencing this view first hand – the crunch of frost covered grass beneath one’s feet, the evaporating chill still tingling the nose, and the calls of the boys to their horses in the fields

When we woke up the next morning there was frost and a fine mist hovering over the ground. Though chilly and in the upper 30s (Fahrenheit), the sun and sky were bright and clear. Before breakfast, I grabbed my good camera and did a perambulation around the property. The view across the fields was absolutely stunning. I do love our neighborhood in northern Virginia, but though the residential streets are tree-lined and there are plenty of parks, it cannot compare to the beauty of open land. I do not think I am designed for country living, but I sure do enjoy taking time to drink it in.

Wheatland on a lovely autumn day

After breakfast, C and I headed to Wheatland, the preserved home of the 15th President of the U.S. James Buchanan. Buchanan, thus far the only bachelor president and the only one from Pennsylvania (though some are now divided on that President Joseph Biden was born and lived the first decade of his life in the state before his family relocated to Delaware), was a controversial figure who, though an accomplished statesman, is probably most remembered (when he is remembered) for presiding over the succession of the southern states and the start of the Civil War, which began just six weeks after he left office.

It was a very good tour. C, who has often seemed bored by house tours, was well-engaged by the former 5th grade art teacher turned tour guide. We were also a small group of six; in addition to C and I there were two 20-something male history buffs and, as luck would have it, a just-retired Foreign Service couple. What are the odds? There were a few things that struck me as rather extraordinary about the tour: 1. the 20-minute introductory film makes no bones about the controversy surrounding the man and 2. that so much of the furniture and decor were not only original to the house and family but that we were free to move around (though not touch) the rooms. In nearly every home of a person of such historic value, the rooms are cordoned off in some way, with either carpet runners you must stay on or by stanchions or plastic barriers that allow guests only too close.

We crisscrossed the county again, grabbed lunch at a small mom & pop taqueria, and then headed to the Strasburg railroad where we boarded a luxury lounge car for a leisurely 45-minute out-and-back ride on the country’s oldest continuously operating steam train. C’s pre-teen tendencies were beginning to show as she grumpily dropped into her velvet armchair; though the fun of an historic train ride did not perk her up, an iced tea and a M&M brownie did the trick and soon enough she conceded it was sort of interesting. I enjoyed the ride, though would have liked it more had it been a wee bit longer. It felt that as soon as we got going it was time to turn back and then it was over.

After the train ride, we drove along the back country roads visiting a few of Lancaster’s covered bridges. I had not realized at first that there would be so many such bridges as they are often more associated with New England, but there are at least 20 of them in the county. We passed by four of them, but it was the Kurtz Mill Bridge, dating from 1876, that provided the best opportunity to really see a covered bridge due to its location in the county’s central park.

C leaps at the Kurtz Mill Covered Bridge

On Sunday morning, I took one last stroll around the Red Caboose Motel grounds, listening for the clip-clopping of the Amish carriages on their way to a friend’s or neighbor’s home. C and I then packed up and made one final stop in Lancaster, so I could take a photo of the Lancaster County Prison, which the mid-18th century town leaders decided should be built like an English castle. Just another unique feature of Lancaster, I suppose.

I was reluctant to depart and head home; it was a great weekend away.

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The Amazing Summer 2023 European Vacay, Part Seven: More Alsace & the Finale

The seventh and final installment of our summer 2023 European adventures.

From the Haut-Koenigsbourg Castle I drove to the little village of Riquewihr, which dates from the medieval period and is considered among the most beautiful villages of France.

The little town square in Riquewihr, with several Alsatian half-timbered houses dating from the middle ages and in the background, down a little street, one can make out the green vineyards rising beyond

The village is quite small, with a population around 1,000, though there were at least a few hundred other tourists milling about its car-free cobblestoned center. We come to see the beautiful Alsatian homes from the 15th to 18th centuries and the 13th century defensive gate. Having been spared terrible damage from the second World War, the village is a well-preserved representation of its medieval self.

The perfect combination of delicious Alsatian baked goods in a traditional Alsatian-decorated store

It was 3 PM by the time I arrived and I was hoping for a nice restaurant meal with alfresco seating. Unfortunately, the village’s small size dictated its restaurant limitations; though there were still a good handful or so, many were closed for the period between lunch and dinner. The few open appeared to have much the same menus of heavy pork or duck sausages, veal head or kidney, Alsatian tarte flambees, and sauerkraut. Yet there were also shops of baked goods, preserves, sweets, and beer. Riquewihr items must be in demand as I saw them sold prominently in other locations around Alsace. The best of course, in my humble opinion, were the big German pretzels, with their brown, crispy, salty-crust and the light and soft insides. And as it started to rain again, I had the perfect meal of a delicious soft pretzel for 1 euro and a Diet Coke, standing under the eaves of a medieval house. My previously empty stomach and my traveler’s heart were deeply satisfied.

The rain let up again, enough for me to wander a bit more to see the 13th century Dolder tower, but the clouds opened up once again and soon enough the tourists, including myself, were huddling in the small passageway under the Tower or pressed back against the houses to get coverage from the narrow eaves. I made my way down the street, running from eave protected location to another, until I made it to the gelato shop. I had my dessert under the tarps of a small market and then ran for my car.

Storks are historically a symbol of Alsace as they represent fertility, good luck, good harvest, and wealth – these are just a few of the stork-related items in Colmar

I drove the 30 minutes to Colmar, my next stop, where I would be staying the next two nights. I had a little trouble navigating to my central hotel given the many streets under some construction. Then parking too was problematic. There was only a small public parking lot on the one way street in front of the hotel that was full upon my arrival. I drove around the block (which was much trickier than it sounds) to try again. And again. The third time was not the charm. The hotel then arranged for me to park at a small garage nearby – maneuvering the car into that narrow single garage required a lot of focus on my part! I finished off my day with the best caprese salad I have every tasted in a small Italian restaurant.

I spent the whole of the following day touring the streets of Colmar on foot. I started just outside my lovely historic hotel in a house dating from 1565 directly on one of the canals of Colmar’s Little Venice. I made a booking for a canal tour for the early afternoon, then set off to explore.

Love locks along one of Colmar’s canals

I was in my element. One thing that I really love to do is to take a long wander through an attractive city, even better if its culture and history are strongly on display. Colmar had this in spades. Around every corner, indeed after every few steps in the old city center there was yet another delightful sight from flowers beds along the canal, the steeple of a lovely old church, an ornately painted house façade, a stork decoration. I just kept walking. After lunch I enjoyed the 30-minute canal boat tour, and then went right back to pounding the streets on my own two feet. I spent an hour in the Bartholdi Museum, dedicated to the life and works of August Bartholdi, the creator of the Statue of Liberty, located in his childhood home.

I really do not know quite how it happened, but when I think back now it seems incredible that I only spent one full day in Colmar. Like Strasbourg, I packed so much into that single day.

The town square of Eguisheim – look closely and see the stork nests and storks atop several buildings

On the Thursday I departed Colmar and drove to another of the small beautiful medieval villages of Alsatian fame, Eguisheim. The area around the village is one of the oldest settlement areas in Alsace and the origins of the village date from the year 1257. It is a wonderful example of a typical medieval village of tight concentric circles around a square complete with a fountain, church, and enough space for a market.

When planning my trip, I had not done as much research as I might normally do. After all, my solo trip in Alsace was at the end of a pretty elaborate multi-week journey. I knew Eguisheim was a must see and I diligently added it to my itinerary, but it was rather like “set it and forget it” until I found myself parking outside the outer rim of the original village. I walked into one section of the outermost circle, and while it had a lovely old fountain and a few pretty buildings, it was not blowing me away. The sky was again overcast and I felt a bit tired. I looked up though and saw a large nest atop a nearby house and then to my astonished eyes, a stork stood up in it, then spread its wings, and flew.

I turned down a very narrow street, about the width of a car (though I certainly would not want to drive it). There was a funny little store dedicated entirely to mushrooms – edible goods and mushroom-inspired art and knick-knacks. The local government had cleverly set up little historic markers throughout the village for tourists to learn a little here and there about unique architectural or cultural quirks one might find. That circle opened up to a main street and I followed it to the village’s center square and here it really did blow me away. I spent about an hour exploring and then I had to bid farewell and drive on to Nancy, two hours away.

An insect hotel in the Parc de la Pépinière

I arrived in Nancy, France just in time to enjoy a lovely alfresco lunch near the main square. Once again the stormy clouds had dispersed and the sky was blazing an almost unreal blue. After lunch I strolled around the 18th century Place Stanislas, conceived and inaugurated by Stanislaw Leszczynski, the last Duke of Lorraine, in 1755. The square is considered the most beautiful in France and is part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site designation for Nancy. It is bordered by elaborate gates and fountains and a triumphal arch, its golden buildings excellent examples of 18th century urban architecture. I thought I could sit there all day and just drink it in. But frankly, after all the go-go-go of the previous days and weeks, a full and content belly, and the strong sun, I just wanted to take a nap.

Unfortunately, when I woke up it was late afternoon and the grey clouds had rolled back in. I did take a walk again to the square and then to a nearby church and finally a supermarket to grab some food to eat in the hotel room. In every long trip there should be a day or two of lazing about, and I had not had that at all — so I made the time to just relax. I was also missing my kiddo.

I had to leave on Friday afternoon to make the 2 1/2 hour drive back to the Euro Space Center for the end of camp presentation, so I did not have much time. I needed to get myself into high gear and do another quick a la Amazing Race tour. As it was lightly raining again, I decided to jump on the little tourist train, which in 45 minutes would take me on a guided tour to all the main sights. That tour then told me exactly where I would want to go back on an additional speed walk tour – to see the Port de la Citadelle and the Port de la Craffe, restored gates of the 14th century defensive wall, into the Basilica of Saint Epvre of Nancy, along the Place de la Carriere (part of the UNESCO designation for Nancy), and then through the Parc de la Pepiniere, where among the trees and flowers is a statue by Rodin.

I loved this tomb carving in the Basilica of Saint Epvre, like the Thinker in death (he is still thinking!)

Nancy, too, was worth more time than I could give it, but I am glad I was able to see it in both sunshine and rain.

I drove the two and a half hours to the Euro Space Center through some rather heavy rains to arrive just in time to see the student end-of-camp rocket launch and the presentation of certificates. Last year the launch of the student-made rockets had been cancelled due to a heat wave and very dry conditions; this year they launched in a fine misty rain. All the kids reported having had a great time (though they all disliked the food). We all got the kids packed up, let them say their goodbyes, and hustled them off to the cars as we had a four-hour drive back to the Amsterdam airport. C once again rode with her cousins, so I had a bit more solo time on the road, which was just fine. Little did I know that I would get my second speeding ticket of all time on the highway outside of Rotterdam – I received my ticket, for driving 5 miles over the speed limit, when I returned home.

We had one more day in the Netherlands before returning to the States. Though it was once again overcast, we headed to the village of Zaanse Schans, just 10 miles north of Amsterdam. When I had started planning this part of our trip, I had hoped we could take a bicycle tour to the village as I had done when I visited in the late 1990s, because it was a place where we could see three quintessential symbols of the country: windmills, a cheese factory, and a wooden shoe factory. Unfortunately, the bicycle tours had a minimum age of 12, so C and her cousin AH were too young. But we worked out an easy enough way on the trains, which honestly allowed us to sightsee on our own timetable.

Windmills in Zaanse Schans

The sightseeing started off with us (and the hundreds of other tourists there) huddled under our umbrellas, but once again the gods of weather cleared the skies. Honestly, we had the most wonderful weather for the entirety of the three and a half weeks. Even when it rained, it always cleared up, in every location, for at least a few hours of glorious sunshine.

Thus, we spent several hours in Zaanse Schans, strolling past the windmills, learning about the process to make Edam and Gouda cheeses (and enjoying some samples), checking out the history and methods to make wooden shoes, touring inside one of the windmills, and enjoying hot chocolate and a delicious lunch. It was the perfect last day.

What an amazing trip! In the end, C visited a total of six countries, and I visited seven. We were able to meet up with our favorite travel buddies, CZ and Little CZ, and spend time with my sister and her family. We traveled by plane, train, bus, funicular, skylift, canal boat, cruise ship, subway, car, and on foot. C spent another week at the Euro Space Camp, this time with her cousins and where she made new friends – one of them is from, can you believe it?, Luxembourg!

It took a lot of work to plan and execute this trip – so many details and logistics! I loved it of course. I truly believe that planning a trip can be almost as fun as taking it, but I think the next trip will involve fewer moving parts! Maybe.

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The Amazing Summer 2023 European Vacay, Part Five: Luxembourg Plus

The fifth installment of our summer 2023 European adventures.

C lounging in the courtyard of the Saint-Jean-du-Grund Church across from the promontory rock of the Ville Haute

Early on a Friday morning, my daughter C and I left our Amsterdam hotel and my sister, brother-in-law, and their two kids left theirs, and we headed to the airport to pick up our respective rental cars. It was time to depart for Luxembourg.

Last year, while C did space stuff at the Euro Space Camp in Belgium, I went off on my own adventures in Luxembourg and Belgium. My geography-obsessed kid was not too pleased I had popped over to another country without her. Before this trip, C, at age 11, had visited 29 countries and distinct territories. She wanted to visit more and and she told me she would very much like to visit Luxembourg. I had had such a wonderful time in the country the year before I decided to make it happen, and my sister and her family were happy to join in.

The back entrance of the Grand Ducal Palace

We had a four hour and a half hour drive from Schiphol Airport to Luxembourg city. After taking nearly all other forms of transport (train, taxi, ship, and bus), I was glad to get behind the wheel. I opted for the slightly longer drive through Luxembourg from the north rather than skirting the border, continuing through Belgium, and entering Luxembourg through the west. As we would be sightseeing only in the capital, I wanted C to have the opportunity to see a bit more of the country as we drove through.

Both our families arrived in the city at the same time and checked into their respective hotels, just five minutes walk from one another. We all grabbed some light snacks and then headed across La Passarelle, the famous 19th-century bridge/viaduct that connects the Ville Haute, the historic city center or Upper Town, with the central railway station, spanning the Petrusse valley. I was giddy with excitement to show my family the beautiful old town I had fallen in love with the year before. I pointed out the lovely hotel where I had stayed at, the entrance to the elevator parking garage (though it was blocked off – we could not have experienced that unique parking situation this year!), the pedestrian street I had inadvertently driven down thanks to Google maps, skirted the Grand Ducal Palace, and so on until we arrived at the meeting place for our 4 PM tour of the palace on Guillaume II Square.

Delicious goodies at the Chocolate House Nathalie Bonn

Last year I had not anticipated the popularity of Grand Ducal Palace tours. The palace is only open to the public for six weeks each summer when the Grand Duke is away (it is not an official residence but instead where the Grand Duke conducts royal business). Still, I had mistakenly thought I could just roll into town and get a tour for the next day or day after. Well, I was able to get a tour, but in German as the English and French tours were sold out. This year I was determined not to make the same mistake, and I checked the tourist office’s website regularly waiting for the day tours would go on sale and weeks ahead of our arrival grabbed an English tour for all six of us. I am not sure the kids were all that enthused with the tour, but I know first hand it is so much more interesting when one understands the language. And as luck would have it, we were treated to a visit to a wing with guest accommodation that had been closed off to visitors the year before. These are sumptuously decorated multi-room suites for official dignitaries visiting the Grand Duchy. While my travel companions may have been just merely interested, I was over the moon.

C enjoys a playground in the courtyard of the 16th century monastery now housing the Theatre des Capucins

Afterwards I showed everyone the famous Chocolate House located just across the pedestrian street from the palace’s back entrance. Entranced by the goodies on display, we all decided we needed to have a little something. Then we strolled around the old town; it really is a beautiful place where the city has so wonderfully combined the hundreds of years old buildings with the modern. We dined that evening alfresco in the Place d’Armes, a beautiful central square dating from 1671, while listening to a small orchestra play in the raised and covered stage at the square’s center, in the shadow of the elegant neo-baroque city administrative building. The weather was warm, the sky blue, and the late setting summer sun perfect for our evening.

The following morning I picked up my fellow travelers at their lodging–C had opted to spend the night with her cousins, an on-holiday sleepover–and we headed to the Ville Haute again. I had scored timed entrance tickets for the self-guided Bock Casemates tour. This was another lesson from my mistakes of my Summer 2022 visit when the Bock Casemates were closed for renovation and the Petrusse Casemates were sold out for not only my visit but for the next three weeks.

I think everyone enjoyed the Bock Casemates more than the palace. Not that the palace tour is uninteresting, it isn’t, but given its a royal residence, the tours are tightly controlled: no photographs and everyone must stay in a group visiting only certain rooms. On the other hand, the casemates are an extraordinary network of underground tunnels where we could wander at will. Sure they have history, first built in 1644 and then expanded under various European regimes into one of the continent’s greatest military defense systems, but for today’s visitors it is the 10 miles of tunnels with rooms, staircases, deep wells, and galleries with cannons and stunning views over the lower city that make it not only fascinating but fun, especially for pre-teens. We easily spent at least 90 minutes in the casemates.

Views from and in the Bock Casemates

We spent the rest of the day touring the city. We had a lunch of food from the Monoprix supermarket in the Place Guillaume II, next to a small children’s play area. Then we visited the Notre Dame church in the high town, climbed down the stairs from the Pont Adolphe to walk through the Petrusse Valley park until we found a yet another playground on the banks of the Alzette River. The kids played there for at least an hour, including my nephew joining in on a soccer game with some local boys. It was difficult to tear them away! We walked through the lower town by the river, visiting the the Saint-Jean-du-Grund Church and then returned to our respective hotels via the pathways beneath the Bock casemates, again up the steep steps to the Ville Haute, through the old town, and across La Passerelle bridge. We most certainly got our steps in that day!

The amazing Porta Nigra under stunning azure skies

The following day, Sunday, we were to drive the kids to the Euro Space Center in southern Belgium for their five day space camp. Initially, I had proposed we spend the day in southern Belgium at a castle town near the French border. As the days approached, however, I felt less and less keen on the idea. It was a small town indeed and I was not sure the kids would take to yet another castle and wondered if we would find a good lunch spot that would satisfy us all. I recalled as C and I had drove toward Luxembourg City from the north I had seen a road sign heading to the west, to Trier, and I realized the German town

Inside the Porta Nigra, 2000 years of history

In 1998, I traveled from Frankfurt, Germany to Luxembourg City along the Moselle River with my aunt and uncle over a long weekend. Our focus was on the small, picturesque German towns, castles, and wineries along the river. It was our limited time in Luxembourg–focused more on a nice meal, a place to lay our heads, and my aunt replacing her Villeroy & Boch pottery–that led me to return in 2022 to finally see the old town. When I saw that road sign to Trier, I recalled that my aunt, uncle, and I had also stopped there during that late 90s road trip. Yet, all I could remember from our Trier stopover was seeing the exterior of the Porta Nigra, stopping for a bathroom break at McDonald’s, and a traditional organ grinder with a monkey. That seemed woefully thin for a visit to German’s oldest town.

Everyone agreed that Trier sounded far more interesting than another castle town.

Trier is an old, old city; founded by the Celts in the 4th century B.C. and then conquered by the Romans in the 1st century B.C., the Romans made the city one of its four capitals during the 3rd and 4th centuries A.D. The city is full of sites and architectural styles through the ages from Roman to Medieval gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Industrial and modern. It is also the birthplace of Karl Marx. There are nine UNESCO World Heritage Sites in Trier located within just a few square miles. Trier packs quite a historical punch. And we were determined to see as much of it as we could in the little time we had.

We started with the most famous of Trier’s sites, the Porta Nigra, the 1st century A.D. Roman city gate. I know I saw it back in 1998, but we did not enter. This time we did. And it was extraordinary.

The impressive central Haupmarkt square

Then we needed to pick up the pace! We headed off toward the medieval Haupmarkt square, where I immediately had a flashback to 1998. I am really quite sure that then the tall white building with its steep black roof and orange portico arches used to be the McDonald’s where my aunt used the restroom and my uncle and I lay in wait behind the doors to surprise my aunt. The photo above does not give justice to the splendor of this square. But no time to linger!

Our special travel friend, Radio Duck, in front of Belgium’s Euro Space Center

We headed to see the Cathedral of Saint Peter; commissioned by Emperor Constantine, it is the oldest church in Germany. Then we were off to the Kaiserthermen, the ruins of a Roman bath complex. I thought at first that this would not be a place that would be of much interest to C and her cousins, until we found the subterranean corridors used to heat the water in the baths above (the Romans did not finish construction of the baths). Then the kids were off for an underground game that seemed to be a mix of tag, hide-in-go-seek, and Marco Polo. Unfortunately, our time was short, so we rounded them up and then sped walked back to the city center via the gardens of the Electoral Palace, reportedly one of the finest Rococo-style palaces in the world.

It was really fun doing this Amazing Race-style of speed sightseeing with my family. We finished our break-neck paced tour of Trier with a wonderful traditional German lunch of bratwurst, schnitzel, fries, pretzels, and apple strudel. Then, sadly, we had to leave. There is so much to see in Trier and I know I would have liked more time – two or three days more – but we made a valiant effort in our four and a half hours.

C joined her aunt, uncle, and cousins in their car as we drove back across Luxembourg and to the Euro Space Center where we dropped off all three kids for camp. Then my sister and brother-in-law departed for a romantic getaway sans the kids and I turned my rental car southwest for my own solo journey.