Ditch Your Fear and Seize the Day

I couldn’t even begin to look at the scenery around me: the glassy water, the powder blue sky, the regal mountains, and the lush vegetation along the banks of the bay.  All my energies and all my attention were focused on not falling into the frigid Alaskan waters.  I had no idea what I was doing on this paddleboard.  I think even the sea otters were popping their heads out of the water to see what the heck I would do next.  My slightly bent knees wobbled and swirled as my hips shifted this way and that to help me maintain my balance.  Gravity was suddenly my nemesis, and I wasn’t certain I could win this fight.  I knew I wasn’t doing this right, and the more my head got in the way of what I was doing, the worse it got.

Now, what had the crew reminded me to do, I wondered to myself? Don’t look at your feet because you’ll tend to lean over and lose your balance.  Stay in the middle of the paddleboard so your weight is better distributed on the board.  And just like being on a bicycle, keep moving if you don’t want to fall.   All of this was ricocheting in my brain, when what I should have been focusing on was the pristine beauty all around me.  I was missing out on the experience because I was wrapped up in my own fear.

Pretty…painful. (Photo courtesy of Safari Endeavour)

This “un-cruise” we’re taking offers a variety of activities each day that are practically all new to me.  We’ve done some whale watching, skiff tours, hiking, and mountain/glacier scrambles, but getting on this paddleboard and staying upright has been the most challenging thing so far.  The water temperature was in the low 50s, so the last thing I wanted to do is fall in.  And let’s not forget the dozens of jellyfish boppity-bopping by us.  Getting stung repeatedly is not my idea of fun.  Over and over, I kept repeating the crew’s instructions to myself and even caught myself singing (à la Dory from Finding Nemo), “just keep moving…just keep moving…” Seems simple enough, but the mind can play horrendous tricks on you when you let it.

Before agreeing to try this, we watched our fellow cruisers take their maiden voyages on the paddleboards.  Some were naturals.  Others – not so much.  But all were persistent and the smiles on their faces revealed their excitement.  I really wanted to do this.

The launch pad off the stern of the boat made getting on the board and onto the water relatively easy. Staying upright on the paddleboard was another story.

Finally, two boards became available.  We used the cool launching pad off the back of the boat to mount and kneel on our boards, paddles in hand.  With reassurances from the crew that all would be well, all actually seemed fine until I popped up onto my feet and began to wobble.  Panic set in and my brain shut down.

Natalie, the Adventurer, paddleboards her way through the bay.

It was seeing my fellow passenger Natalie that brought me back to my senses.  At eleven years of age, she was the youngest guest, and arguably, the most adventurous.  She was in absolute control of her paddleboard.  She was completely uninhibited and loving every minute of it.  In an instant, I cast off my fear.   I actually began to feel lighter, and that made me feel more in control of my body, my mind, and my paddleboard.

I took long strokes with my paddle so I could catch up with Rick, who looked like he had found his calling in life.  He was doing a great job, and I was so proud of him.  We decided to get close to the shore so we could be in a better spying position to see the sea life that dwelt beneath us.

Feeling confident and ready to use our paddleboards to discover the secrets of the bay.
Exploring the coastal areas of the bay.

The depth and terrain of the coastline changed dramatically every which way you turned. I’m pretty sure I killed many kelp plants and lots of shelled things while pushing off the rocks that I nearly crashed into.  And since I needed to be in perpetual motion, it was challenging to stay in one spot to gawk at a starfish or sea anemone.  I’d see something, say “ooh, ooh, ooh!” like a chimp, glide right past it, and then find myself temporarily beached on a mussel-encrusted mass.  By the time I could push off and do a donut to swing back to where I was, I’d forget exactly where I had been looking.

Beneath the surface of the water, life–in all shapes, sizes and colors–abounds.

But no matter.  There was so much to explore.  Standing up while being so close to the water gave us a fantastic perspective on the sea life.  It was like being in your own HD Discovery Channel program, but better.  In between the floating tresses of kelp, you could catch a glimpse of spiny, multi-colored sea urchins traversing the rocks below.  Farther along, hundreds of their white skeletons littered the sandy floor of the bay, presumably having been consumed by their predators, the sea otters.  Every now and again, salmon trying to get to the nearby stream to spawn would swim speedily by me and then suddenly jump out the water.  You could get whiplash each time you spotted one.

The animals that tested (and strengthened) my paddleboard skills the most were the crabs.  They are fast little suckers.  They weren’t plentiful, but once you saw one, it was easier to spot the others.  Rick claims they were Dungeness, but I have no clue.  All I know is that they can side-walk away from me faster than I can maneuver my board to aim in their new direction.  I easily spent thirty minutes just chasing crabs like a maniac and loving every moment.  I felt like a kid again—not because what I was doing was silly, but because I found that place in me where it was cool to let go of my inhibitions and to do something for the pure joy of it without worrying about what anyone else thought.  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.

That’s definitely not a salmon.

But the ultimate moment came when what I thought was a gigantic three-foot long salmon swam out from underneath my board and shot out ahead of me.  The sunlight that broke through the water struck him in such a way that he glistened so brightly that I had to shade my eyes.  As he continued weaving ahead of me, I shouted to Rick in the rapid-fire tempo of a teenage girl, “Omigod! Did you see that? What was that?  Is that a fish?  What kind of a fish is that, Babe? Was that a salmon? Did you see it? There! Over there!”  And before he could respond, my “fish” burst out of the water and just stared at me.  I mean, really stared at me.  Suddenly, it dawned on me that I’m was getting mad-dogged by a harbor seal who was looking at me like he was thinking, “I’m a harbor seal, you idiot.  Not a salmon.”  And just like that, he ducked back down into the water and took off for who-knows-where.

With our adrenaline was still pumping from our paddleboarding adventure, we celebrated each other’s adventurous spirit.

When Rick and I finally made it back to our boat, we were both still on cloud nine.  I felt triumphant.  I did realize that I hadn’t done anything heroic, or difficult, or original.  But I had found the means to get out of my own way and move past my little fears so I could have a really amazing experience.  Not only can I confidently paddleboard now, but I got to see things I never would have seen if I had just stayed on the boat or given up when I got nervous.

It’s been said so many ways before:  carpe diem, seize the day, stop and smell the roses, fortune favors the bold, take the bull by the horns, or just do it.  When we travel, we must hold this especially true.  If you take the time (and the money) to travel far from your home, then you owe it to yourself to travel away from your comfort zone, too.  When will you have the chance to do this again?  There’s no time like the present, and the memories you’ll create will be your trophies for overcoming your fears.  Be bold.  Be daring.  Be a little bit crazy.  Be the you you always knew you could be, and you will surely reap the rewards.

By the way, we got back to the boat just in time to see that Natalie had convinced about a dozen other passengers to join her for a Polar Plunge off the back of the boat into the jellyfish-filled, chilly water.  Crazy?  Maybe.  Adventurous?  Definitely.  And I’m absolutely certain that they will all happily remember that experience.

Just a few of the brave souls who dared to take the Polar Plunge Challenge set forth by Natalie.

There’s More to Nature Than Meets the Eye

Alaska is big.   I mean it’s huge.   It’s twice the size of Texas.  On this seven-day cruise through Alaska’s Inside Passage, we would explore a mere fraction of this massive state, but what we would see was enough to fill my camera with almost 1400 photos and my mind with countless unforgettable memories.

While I expected we’d see mountains, trees, glaciers, and hopefully some animals, I had no concept of the scale, quantity, and diversity that Alaska—often called “The Last Frontier”—had to offer.

A majestic whale puts on a spectacular show for us.

When we awoke the first morning to breaching whales on all sides of our ship, I was stunned by the beauty, grace and agility of these colossal aquatic mammals.  But really, you’d have to be a fool not to be.  They are, in the most accurate use of the word, awesome.

Moving beyond the obvious was a bit more challenging for me.  As we cruised through Icy Strait and admired the passing scenery, the running internal soundtrack of mind kept repeating, “Oh, it’s so beautiful.” Well, yeah.

But Ranger Andrew changed all that.  After our whale morning, we picked up Ranger Andrew at Bartlett Cove near the entrance to Glacier Bay.  He joined us for two days and shared his expertise about the wildlife, plant life, and geology that comprised Glacier Bay.

While I can’t remember all the names of or facts about the things we saw, I can remember one thing:  his enthusiasm.  It was contagious. I have never met anyone as excited about his job and so eager to share his wealth of knowledge as Ranger Andrew.  From birds to sea lions, from lichens to flowers, and from shale rocks to glaciers, he made everything fascinating.  He didn’t just impart information, he made the complicated simple and the simple magnificent.

Be thankful this isn’t in smell-o-vision.

At South Marble Island, we ogled several harems of sea lions lounging on rocks like celebrities on the French Riviera, surrounding their respective dominant males.  While the decibel level of these yelping beauties reached peak levels, what was even more powerful was their stench.  Even from 100 yards away, that smell was brutal.  Every now and again a sea lion would silently slink away and slip into the water and then suddenly reappear scaling another part of the rock.  We noticed several who were branded with a mark so that researchers could track them.

Ranger Andrew explains where to spot certain birds and their nests on South Marble Island.

Some of their neighbors on South Marble Island included puffins, common murres, and various gulls.   The variety and bounty of animal life on this relatively small island was astonishing, but, as we came to expect, Ranger Andrew had the explanation. The island (composed of limestone and featuring a dense spruce forest, sloped cliffs, and grassy round hilltops) is an ideal sanctuary for all these creatures because the diverse terrain of the island offered perfect spaces for shelter, resting, hiding, and nesting.

Mountain goat sighting. (Image courtesy of Rob Arora)

Ranger Andrew also ran us through exercises in patience and what could possibly be used as a replacement for an eye chart test when he had us scour the mountainous face of another island to search for elusive mountain goats.  For over half an hour, every passenger with binoculars or a camera with a decent lens panned up and down and left and right, across the lines of trees, below the grey stripes in the rocks, and into every single possible nook and cranny we could find.  Ranger Andrew was, of course, the one to spot our first mountain goat, and his face just beamed when he explained to everyone where to look.  Victory was his…and ours.

My first glacial experience

When we dropped anchor near the glacier, we had the option of exploring the coastline in a small skiff, doing a relaxing beach walk, or hiking the along a craggy-faced mountainside and crossing onto a glacier. Guess which one we picked.

My fellow hike-mates from left to right: Wendy, Rob, Debby, Colleen, Laurie, John, Ranger Andrew, and Rick.
Geared up and ready to scramble up the mountainside to see the glacier up-close.

With Laurie (expert expedition guide) and Ranger Andrew leading us, we scrambled up and across the face of the mountain.  Despite wearing six layers on top, four layers on the bottom, a scarf and a wooly hat, I still felt the rain, the whipping wind, and the chilly 40-degree air temperature bite into my core.  Being next to an ice mass that was, at its mouth, as wide as three football fields, as tall as a thirty-story building, and was miles long intensified the chill. I was grateful to be on the move and work my body into a warmer state.  I was equally thankful that I had two walking sticks to steady my balance.  Between the slithering streams that glided down the slope, the slippery shale fragments that slid out from under us, and the jungle-gym boulders we had to clamber over, staying upright was a real challenge.

Beauty, color, and life abound beyond the perimeters of a glacier.

I found myself being the frequent straggler, partly because I cautiously tried to stay sure-footed, but mostly because I liked looking at all the stuff around me.  Since Ranger Andrew was acting as the caboose for our hilly scramble, it gave me a chance to ask questions and eavesdrop on the info he was sharing with my fellow inquisitive hikers. While I was initially struck by the grandness and color of the glacier on our left, the vivid bursts of the plant life along the hillside, and the countless waterflows that cascaded through every path we took, both Ranger Andrew and Laurie helped me to see the deeper beauty of the nature that surrounded us.

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There’s a fungus among us.

One hundred years ago, the slope on which we stood was completely covered by that glacier.  Since it receded, life found a way to emerge where there once was no life.  Lichens, fungi, and flowers now fight their way for survival and provide the basis for new life.  Despite the difficult conditions and terrain, they strive to thrive.  They cling to edges of rocks and reach their way across streams to proliferate, reshape and redecorate the landscape.  It’s nature triumphing over itself.

Ranger Andrew explains how even in this rough terrain, plant life grows, decays, and becomes the basis for new soil and new life.
These colorful boulders and rock rubble are million-year-old artifacts that guard the geological history of this glacial space.

And the rocks reveal their own histories through their composition and color.  These sedimentary and metamorphic mineral and organic life composites were formed over millions of years, subjected to a geological tango of intense pressure, extreme weather conditions, erosion, and glacial movement.  While I lack any expertise to interpret their geological record, Ranger Andrew taught me that these rocks—with their streaks of orange or blue that separate layers of white or green or black or grey—invite me to recognize and appreciate the history that formed them.

Rick and I relishing our moment on the glacier.

The experience all came together the moment I stepped onto the glacier. I felt the world fall silent and still, and all at once, I felt small and grand.  I understood that the force of nature that created and maintains this glacier is the same that shaped the adjacent mountains, fosters the life that blooms on the rocks, nourishes and shelters the wildlife of this region and sustains and produces life everywhere.  In geological time, everything was churning…living and dying, then living again. I realized that I am a part of that.  I am connected to this, even if time and distance separate me from it.  We are all a part of it.

Rick, Ranger Andrew, and Laurie can’t contain their excitement about nature.

Perhaps I already knew all of this on an intellectual level before.  But thanks to the Ranger Andrew (and Laurie), I’m gaining a deeper understanding of that. Experiencing nature, not on a screen or in a book, but in the shadow of a thundering glacier with the bite of the Alaskan wind in my face, I have connected with my world like I didn’t know was possible.   And I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Check out these exciting detail shots of the glacier.

Whale!

“Gooooooood morning Safari Endeavour! We’re sorry to wake you so early, but we wanted to inform you that whales are breaching on the port and starboard side of the ship.”

If you think whales are cool, raise your hand (fin).

This is the announcement that stirred us from our deep slumber at 6:30 a.m. on the first morning aboard our humble ship.  Rick and I immediately sat up, turned around, ripped open the curtains and pressed our noses to the cold window of our starboard stateroom.  At first we saw nothing but glassy waters.  We scanned the horizon from left to right and right to left, and then suddenly, a sliver of a fin broke through the grey-blue waters and we both shouted, “WHALE!”

As Rick scrambled out of bed to hop in the shower, I stayed transfixed at the window, watching for any and all signs of Humpbacks.  Like a natural world’s Howard Cosell, I barked out the play-by-play to Rick as these beautiful creatures would surface to spank their fins on the water, show some tail, and work their blow holes.  “Babe, hurry up!  You have to see this! Whoa! The whales are slapping the water!  Ooh, ooh, look – he’s rolling.  He’s alternating fins!  He just jumped!”

Sadly, when Rick came out to look, the whales had either taken a rest or moved to another area we couldn’t see, so I had to do a dramatic re-enactment of the whale show.

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The photogs on the upper deck stand poised to capture the perfect shot of a whales in action.

Camera in hand, I headed up with Rick to the main deck so we could look for more whales.  And boy, did we find them.  Along with our fellow guests and some of the crew, we stood in silent awe of the powerful and elegant whales that were all around us.  The only sounds you could hear were the exhales of the whales, the crash of their fins as they shattered the surface of the water, and the staccato shutters of sixty cameras.

We were all stunned to silence as we watched how beautifully the whales moved in and out of the water.

Now what we were seeing (according to our crew) was highly unusual.  Sure, they had seen whales breeching and engaging in fin-slap behavior, but they said they had never, I repeat, never seen the whales go non-stop for so long and exhibit such flamboyant movements as they had that day.  Captain Jill and our Expedition Leader Matt agreed to adjust our schedule for the day so we could linger and enjoy this unique experience.  For about two hours, we were able to observe the graceful water dances of these whales without worrying about having to rush off to be somewhere else by a certain time.

This gave us an exceptional opportunity to observe and discuss what whales do and why.  There’s speculation about what the slaps and jumps mean: Is it to attract a mate? Does it stun the tiny animals they’re about to feast on? Is it a way to “scratch” the tiny organisms that live on and irritate their skin?  Is it all of these things?  No one knows for sure, but it sure is fascinating to watch.

Ready to make his big move, this Humpback goes tails-up for a deep dive.

It also gave us a chance to witness the patterns of these particular whales, which was a real blessing when it came to capturing the moments on camera.  One whale consistently did a series of fin flaps – first one fin repeatedly and then alternating each side.  After a few minutes of that, you’d see his humpback emerge and descend, followed by his tale.  And that was the signal.  Once that happened, we knew that in a few minutes (or in a few seconds), he would make his big move.

The problem was, you never knew exactly where he would breech.  I had so many blurry shots and remnants of after-splashes because I wasn’t quick on the draw.  But when whale action, presence of mind, quick reflexes, timing, and luck converge, you find yourself wanting to jump up and down, just like those whales.

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To Cruise Or To Un-cruise?

Follow me as I share my latest adventures with Rick in this blog series on cruising in Alaska .

The cruise ship industry booms in Europe and in Alaska (shown here).

The Saturday nights of my childhood kept my eyes glued to the TV, watching The Love Boat.  It littered my head with grandiose images of cruise ships as floating cities of decadence where every need and want you had was filled by a fatherly Captain Stubing, a cheery “Doc”, a cool bartender named Isaac with an even cooler moustache, a goofy yeoman purser (what the hell is that?) that everyone called Gopher, and a toothy, eternally jovial cruise director named Julie McCoy.  Life seemed pretty fabulous on that ship, but I never really saw myself taking one of those cruises.

That is, until a year ago.

Rick and I had the good fortune of taking two cruises in the Mediterranean to do research for his book Mediterranean Cruise Ports.  While the ships were merely vessels to get us to the places where we need to do the research, we did, nonetheless, get to experience life on a luxury liner.  They’re everything (positive and negative) that everyone says: decadent, a floating Las Vegas, worry-free, a good value, mindless, entertaining, and filled with of all kinds of people (read that as you will).  We, admittedly, enjoyed the trips quite a bit.  It’s great to not have to pack your bags every two nights, to relax by the pool with a Mai Tai being delivered to you by the pool butler, to be rocked to sleep by softly rolling waves, and to eat till you bloat and float.  But it’s certainly not how we would prefer to travel.

So when we discussed taking a cruise to Alaska, we had to thoughtfully consider whether we really wanted to vacation with 2,500 of our least close “friends” for a week or find an alternate option.  Thanks to the recommendation of two good friends, we opted for something much more intimate: a seven-day, small-ship cruise through the Inside Passage of southeastern Alaska with American Safari Cruises.  No stops in small towns.  Just making our way from Juneau up Icy Strait to Glacier Bay, back down and around through various fjords and bays, exploring several islands and harbors, cruising through Frederick Sound and back to Juneau.  (While a far better experience for us, small ships do cost about double what the big ships charge.)

Rick and I flew up to Juneau to start our small boat cruise.
Examples of First Peoples’ totem poles at the Alaska State Museum

We flew up to Juneau and had a day to explore the state capital before joining our 60 shipmates on the Safari Endeavour.  We wandered the high streets to visit St. Nicolas Russian Orthodox Church, originally built in 1894.  We passed by the Capitol Building (meh) and the governor’s mansion, before heading closer to the water and popping into the Alaska State Museum.  With it’s proud collection of First Peoples’ artifacts and art, and its historical galleries—which includes a reproduction of the check used to purchase Alaska, rusty remnants of the Gold Rush, and paraphernalia from WWII—the Alaska State Museum gave us a new appreciation for Alaska’s role in U.S. history.

Having a whale of a time in Juneau.
You could almost see the dollar signs in the vendors’ eyes.

As we wandered the main streets near the harbor, it was striking to note that in a town of about 32,000, the passengers of four cruise ships (the equivalent of about 30% of Juneau’s population) so easily overwhelmed and obliterated the potential charm of this town.  Like locusts, REI-clad tourists infiltrated every single store and food venue on Franklin Street, looking for the cheapest deal on postcards, knives, crab, and beanies.  I couldn’t imagine doing that for the next seven days and was thankful I didn’t have to.  Some passengers did make their escape route via the cruise-sponsored excursions that work with local operators.  But even looking at that line of makeshift booths with adventure outfitters hollering their special deals at passers-by made me cringe and head in the opposite direction.

Getting up-close and personal with a blinded bald eagle.

For a bit of respite from the throngs of landlubbers, we took the tram up to Mt. Roberts.  While it is a tourist activity, it’s not crowded with tourists because the cost and the hiking activities available at the top seem not to be everyone’s cup of tea.  For us, it gave us a chance to get in some much needed physical activity and to see a remarkable view of Juneau’s harbor.  At the summit, we got up-close and personal with a majestic bald eagle.  Because of a gunshot injury to her eye that would limit her survival in the wild, she’s been and will remain lovingly cared for in captivity.  The relatively short interpretive trails offered informative detail on the flora and fauna, intimate paths through wooded lanes, and the bonus of a cardio workout.  While waiting to make our descent back into town, we were treated to photo-worthy views of the harbor and distant mountain ranges.  But the most jaw-dropping thing for me was seeing the four cruise ships dwarf our tiny ship and home for the next seven days.

From left to right: big cruise ship, bigger cruise ship, another big cruise ship, a medium cruise ship (hidden by trees)…and off to the right against the dock is our tiny little 86-passenger boat.

When we finally boarded the Safari Endeavour, we took a few moments to unpack our bags and make the most efficient use of space in our slender stateroom.  Close quarters can lose their cozy appeal real quick if you’re not well organized.  Afterwards we explored the boat a bit: exercise equipment, check; two mini hot tubs, check; kayaks, check; 24-hour accessible wine taps, check.

We settled comfortably into our home for the next seven days–luggage under the bed and belonging tucked away in every possible drawer.
Rick makes good use of the boat’s outdoor exercise equipment…for two minutes.
Captain Jill introduces the lead crewmembers to us.

Beneath a deliciously blue sky and wrapped in the warmth of the September sun, we gathered with the other guests on the main deck to meet Captain Jill and her crew.  We huddled around her, cocktails in hand, and eagerly listened to her cheerful yet authoritative voice (which bears a remarkable similarity to Ellen DeGeneres’ voice) as she introduced herself, her first and second mates, the engineer, the hotel manager, and Matt, the expedition director.

There was a clear and immediate sense that she had implicit trust in them and that they were eager and proud to follow her anywhere.  She let us know about her open-bridge policy and that we were welcome to visit her there anytime.  Her hotel manager encouraged us to make full use of all the amenities onboard and to not hesitate to ask a crewmember for anything that would make our experience on the ship better.  And Matt excited us with the idea of our “un-cruise”—explaining that we had the flexibility in our itinerary to stop where we wanted, to explore inlets and fjords that the big ships didn’t have access to, and to adjust our schedule according to what would make our experience more memorable.  It was at that point that Rick and I knew we were hooked.   This is exactly how we wanted to explore Alaska.

Be sure to check out upcoming posts to learn all about Glacier Bay, to see whales breeching, a bear who catches salmon with a single paw, and so much more as I continue blogging about our Alaskan adventures.  Stay tuned!

Food Porn

Food Porn

When you’re in Berlin, currywurst is one of the best meals you can have.

There’s something so evocative to me about pictures of food and the power they have to vividly remind me of mouth-watering meals and moments that I’ve had on my travels.  I can look at my culinary photos and remember exactly where I was, the scent of the dish just placed in front of me, and the way the flavors open up on my pallet.  The best currywurst I ever had was in Berlin, just a few blocks from Under den Linden.  When I look at the photo of that dish—a steamed then fried plump pork sausage laden with a tangy yet sweet blend of ketchup, curry powder, and Worcestershire sauce, protected by a crispy and salty French fry fort, and accessorized by caramelized necklaces of onions, my mouth just waters.  And I’m reminded that over sixty years ago, in West Germany, because of the kindness of some British soldiers, a Berlin chef was given these now-seemingly common ingredients and invented this saucy recipe that is now served over 80 million times a year in Germany.  Food, especially when you’re traveling, is not merely about sustenance and nutrition.  It’s about the culture of the place.

Seafood and vegetables are plentiful in Southern Italy.

Countries reveal themselves through their foods.  Regional specialties are shaped by the climate, season, and terrain of the area.  In France, many pair their wines with cheeses from the same region because they’re designed to go together.  They have a common terroir (the idea that agricultural products and even livestock from a particular area are influenced by the geography, geology, climate—coupled with human tradition and pride—and are therefore embodied with flavor characteristics that are particular to that region), so their flavors complement one another.  Italians would call that buon sposito or a good marriage.  In Italy you’ll find that Northern specialties tend to feature creams, cheeses, butter, beef, and pork (although seafood is common on the coasts) while Southern dishes often spotlight seafood, vegetables (particularly tomatoes and eggplant) and olive oil.  Spain’s northwestern coastal region of Galicia is heralded for its seafood and sauce-laden dishes, while its central mountainous and agricultural region of Castilla-Léon dominates in the preparation of pork, beef and game dishes, as well as stews.

National cuisines are also spiced up by newer immigrant cultures melding with established ones (whose modern-day traditions were also shaped long ago by conquerors and visitors of ages past).  Döner Kebabs  (Turkey) are found on practically every other corner in Berlin.   Bun Thit Nuong (Vietnam) and Tagines (North Africa) are commonplace in Paris, and Chicken Tikka Masala (an Indian-influenced recipe) is actually considered to be Britain’s national dish.  Culinary diversity reflects cultural diversity.

Bun Thit Nuong (Vietnamese noodle salad with BBQ Pork) and Nems (egg rolls) are a filling feast for many Parisians.

The same is true in America.  Our varied regional staples range from New England clam chowder to Texas BBQ, from Wisconsin cheeses to California avocados, and from Idaho potatoes to Hawaiian poi. And even within regions, influences from cultures, as well as lifestyles, have helped impacted the ever-changing American cuisine scene.  Throughout our history, our diets have been shaped by the British, Native Americans, Spaniards, the French, Germans, the Dutch, African cultures, Italians, the Irish, Latinos, Asians, Caribbean cultures, Jews, Indians, Middle Eastern cultures, and by so many others.  Within and beyond specific cultural cuisines, we also have foods that cater to the health-conscious, the gluten-free clientele, low-carb eaters, vegetarians, people on low-sodium diets, foodies, those who only eat organic foods, and so on and so on.  “Fusion” foods are ubiquitous, food trucks are all the rage, and desserts are practically considered their own basic food group.

Hearty rye black bread is served with every Estonian meal.

Foods can remind us of the struggles of our forefathers.  When times were tough and resources scarce, families made due with what was available.  In Estonia, harsh living conditions due to weather, the tumult of living under the rule of at least five different foreign countries, and collective farming systems under Communist rule that exported Estonian products to other Soviet countries often left people in precarious circumstances without much access to wealth or food.  But one thing remained essential, even sacred, to Estonians – black bread.  It is always served with a meal. No Estonian would dare complain about the bread saying it’s too hard or too dry, and if a piece fell to the floor, one would pick it up, kiss it to show respect, and eat it.  In fact, instead of saying something like Bon appétit, Estonians say jätku leiba—may your bread last.

Did you eat yet? You can take some home for baon.

We, too, can think of our family traditions and realize the crucial role food plays in our own cultures.  In my own family and throughout the Filipino culture, we have stories of limited access to certain foods due to poverty, war, or unavailability.  Because of that, it’s ingrained in us to always share what we have and to insist that our guests eat heartily.  When you can provide, you do so to the best of your ability because one day you may be in need and have to rely on the generosity of others.  Whenever I go to any of my relatives’ houses, the first question they ask isn’t “How are you?” it’s “Did you eat yet?”  And I’ve never left a Filipino party without the host insisting that I baon (BAH-ohn) some of the dishes or take some home as leftovers.

When you consider what you consume, whether you’re traveling across the sea or across the street,  think about the history behind that meal.  Let it be a bridge into that culture—culture resides at the hearth as much as in the museum. Think about where the ingredients came from or how they were cultivated/harvested/raised/processed.  Reflect on why that dish became important to that region, why it became popular outside of that locale or why it’s part of the national cuisine.  Ponder why it may be considered a delicacy in the country you’re visiting but not in your own and why that distinction exists.  There may be a real history, tradition, and culture behind that meal, and when you become more aware of that, the food takes on a whole new cultural flavor that makes your dining and travel experience that much more pleasurable.

Capturing a photo of the meals I enjoy isn’t just about capturing a culinary memory.  It’s a way to add another layer to how I learn to understand and better appreciate the culture of the place I’m visiting through food.  Create your own food porn to stoke memories and gain better insight into the cultures your explore.  You’re not just eating something tasty…you’re ingesting a piece of that very culture.  With an understanding of the context of what you’re eating vis-à-vis the people who made it, you are, in a sense, communing with that culture.  And that’s well worth the calories. 

Can’t get enough food porn?  Check out some of these finger-licking foods.  And if you click on them, they’ll get bigger and launch a slideshow (Use your back-button to return to the blog) .

Hungry for Hungarian goulash?
Whether you imagine yourself as an upperclass school girl or a working class bloke, high tea will hit the spot.
In the Czech Republic, wild boar is a staple and if often paired with dumplings which were introduced to the Czechs by the Germans.
It’s said that it was the Jews who preserved this tradition of what we now know as foie gras (which dates all the way bay to ancient Egypt) after the fall of the Roman Empire and shared their culinary knowledge as they migrate north through Europe.
Churros (shown here with Spanish chocolate) were rumored to be invented by Spanish shepherds. As a substitute for fresh bakery bread, they would quickly cook the churro paste in a pan. The resulting pastry resembled the horns of their churra sheep.
Les Bougresses in Paris makes my favorite dish — Ravioles du Royans (Royans is a community on the west coast of France) . The origin of these postage-stamp size pasta pillows (nowadays stuffed with Comté cheese) is attributed to the Romans who made their presence felt throughout what is now France.
Parma ham, wrapped in a chickpea blanket and drizzled in truffle oil. Buon appetitio!
Delicacy or not? You’ll never know until you try one of these butter, garlic and parsley-soaked escargots. The French consume 40,000 tons annually.

With A Little Help From My Friends

One of the best ways to enhance your travels is to season it with friends.  Either you can enjoy your present company, meet up with friends who are serendipitously passing through the town you’re in, or make new ones.  I’ve been fortunate enough this summer to do all three.

So this blog is a photo shout-out to them.  Many thanks to everyone who took time out of your schedules to have a coffee, a gelato, a crêpe, some dinner, afternoon snacks, a picnic by the river, some wine, a stroll through the city, or a combination of the above.  It’s always a pleasure to be with you and to enjoy each other’s company in a new setting.  Continued and prosperous travels to you all!

Click on the thumbnails to enlarge.

I’ve Been Pickpocketed!

I had the zipper open just enough for me to easily access my camera and for a pickpocket to nab my wallet.

I know there’s no need to over-react.  I wasn’t attacked, I’m not injured, and everything that needed to get taken care of got taken care of.  In fact, the instant that I realized my wallet was no longer in my bag, there was nothing for me to do but smile.  Smile at my own carelessness and the lesson that I had to learn the hard way.

After finishing up six weeks of memorable travel on three tours (two in France and one that took me to Italy, Austria, Germany, Lichtenstein, Switzerland and back to France), I was pretty pumped to get in one day of book research in Le Havre and spend two days helping Rick and his stellar production crew with filming in Paris.  Both tasks were demanding but so rewarding.  After the work in Paris, the crew headed to London and I had two days to kill in Paris until Rick and I would fly back home to Seattle.

There was the last-minute souvenir shopping to do, attempts to exercise off six weeks of eating like someone on vacation, meeting up with friends, and one-last look at favorite places in the city.  On my second-to-last night in Paris, I hit up the ATM for some cash to tide me over till my departure.  Then I headed off to a sushi restaurant in the Marais because sometimes a girl just needs some Asian food. The food was plentiful and tasty, and I got to meet a darling Italian couple enjoying their honeymoon in Paris.  After bidding them buona notte, I headed out with my leftover sushi and veggie tempura, feeling completely overstuffed and surprised that to-go boxes are becoming less of a taboo in Paris.  Knowing that I’d never finish my leftovers, I planned on giving them to a homeless person who I knew would be along my walking route.

Since I needed to walk off dinner, I figured I’d take a circuitous route from the Marais to the Louvre, cross over the Pont des Arts, along the river to Pont Alexandre III, and back over the river to catch the metro at Concorde for a straight shot back to my hotel.  It was also a great chance to do a nighttime urban photo safari. For nearly two hours, I was so engrossed in the nightlife and night urbanscapes that typify Parisian summer nights.

As I criss-crossed my way through Paris, I felt so happy about all the experiences I’d had over the summer and so proud of myself for making the most out of my last moments in the city: engaging in conversation with strangers, getting in exercise by walking off my dinner, giving my leftovers to a man who was grateful for the food, getting some winning shots on my camera.  Oh, what a night!  With a smile on my face, I headed down the steps of the metro, reached in my purse for my wallet to grab my metro ticket, and suddenly my heart sank.  It was then that I realized my wallet was not in my purse.  I unzipped it completely and looked feverishly for it.  Nope, not there.  And that’s when all I could do was smile, realizing that somewhere between sushi and Concorde, someone had pickpocketed me.

It was my own fault.  I thought back to how my purse zipper was open just enough for a deft hand to slip in, how the purse was swung behind my back every time I had to lean over to get a good shot, how completely unaware of my environment I was because I was focused on something else.

So, without my recently withdrawn cash, my debit card and my credit card, I walked the longest walk of shame I’ve ever had to walk all the way back to my hotel.  Forty minutes later, I Skype-called Bank of America around 12:30 a.m.  It took two hours, four phone calls and six different agents for them to cancel my debit card and to authorize Visa to wire me some emergency cash.  So irritating.  But the thing is, I can’t get upset about that.  Had I been more careful or worn a money belt, this wouldn’t have happened.  And I know better.  For years this is what I preached to my students when we traveled to Europe, and we emphasize it on our tours.  In thirteen years of traveling to Europe, I had never before been pickpocketed, but this time, my over-confidence in thinking I was such a savvy traveler was my downfall.

Imagine the shame I felt when I told Rick what happened.  Thankfully, he reassured me and reminded me that it could happen to anyone.  Sometimes our number comes up, and mine did.  I just needed to put it behind me and learn from it.

Of course, he’s right.  When I had to explain to the front desk staff at my hotel what happened, all three of them told me about their own pickpocketing experience.  In fact, the assistant manager comforted me by telling me that even the former French Presidential candidate Ségolène Royal had her wallet stolen just one month earlier in the neighborhood where I was staying.   Well, at least I’m in good company.

So, what lessons have I learned about how to avoid being pickpocketed and what to do if you are?  Here’s the list:

  1. Before you leave for your trip, print out the phone numbers of your bank and CC companies (along with other emergency info) and email them to yourself.  When you’re in a frazzled state of mind, you’ll be thankful you’re not having to waste time looking up these numbers online.
  2. Don’t carry all your debit/credit cards in one place.  If it’s feasible, keep extra cash hidden elsewhere, too (hotel room safe, hidden pockets in your luggage). All my stuff was in my wallet and I had no backup. Thankfully, I wasn’t carrying my passport.
  3. Use a money belt.  It works. Period.
  4. Be aware of your surroundings.  It’s easy to get distracted when you’re looking at cool sights, taking photos, or even enjoying lunch at a café.  Pickpockets know what to look for – distracted people with easily accessible bags or pockets.  You don’t need to be paranoid, just be alert.
  5. If you do get pickpocketed, call your bank and credit card companies right away.  Even if it’s well past your bedtime, prevent further theft by cancelling your cards so no one else has access to them.
  6. If the agent isn’t giving you the answers or help you need, ask to speak with a supervisor right away.  He/she may know of and can authorize better options for you.
  7. Some hotels still charge you for any phone calls, even if you’re calling a toll-free international number to your bank.  Skype does not allow calls to international toll-free numbers (or at least it doesn’t recognize how to call them without a country code).  So, you need to have the standard 1-800 number (1 is the US country code) to call your bank via Skype.
  8. Money will generally be wired to you via Western Union, often located in post offices in Europe. Find out the nearest Western Union location before you call your bank or CC company. Your hotelier can help you with this.
  9. Don’t panic.  While getting pickpocketed is frustrating and a major inconvenience, remember that it is not a violent crime and that you can get financial help through your bank or CC company.

The next morning, I got €200 without any glitches via Western Union at the post office just one block from my hotel. I made it through the last day of my trip without any more inconvenient incidents. And now, three days later, I’m back in the USA, with my new cards were on their way. So, the thief got €120 and two worthless debit/credit cards, and I learned a valuable lesson.  They won’t get me again.

By the way, here are some awesome photos I took while getting pick-pocketed (click on thumbnails to enlarge and launch slideshow).

A Place That’s All Your Own

One of the most annoying things about travel/tourism is that if you’re going to someplace that’s popular, everyone else is too.  That means crowds, lines that seem to have no end, pushing and shoving, and odors that you didn’t think were humanly possible.  With all of that mass of humanity, patience and a good sense of humor seem to melt away quicker than ice under a scorching sun.

Although most people would prefer to travel in low or shoulder season to avoid crowds (and elevated prices), for many, that’s simply not possible. One way to get around that scene is to not be in it.  Find a better way to enjoy your travels by being in a place when there are few people and make it a place that’s all your own – even at the busiest time of the travel season.

This summer, because I’ve been working as an assistant guide, I have been, by necessity, out and about when everyone else is.  While being on a tour has its privileges (such as guided tours with incredibly talented and smart local guides or entrances to sites/activities without waiting in line), it’s still next to impossible to avoid the fact that everyone and their mother is at the same place you are everywhere you go.

To have a more peaceful and intimate experience, I made a conscious effort to enjoy the places we visited either really early in the morning or really late at night.  Now obviously I wasn’t getting into museums with an Early Admission Ticket like at Disneyland (Whoa, there’s a idea!  Museums, get on that!), and I certainly didn’t do this every day.  But, I did get to see places in ways that most travelers – or even locals for that matter – don’t.   It takes effort and sometimes a little bit of planning (going to bed early so you can be up at 6 a.m., resting in the afternoon so you can be up until 1 a.m.), but it’s so worth it to watch the sunrise over a glassy lake, to be one of twelve people standing on the Mont Saint Michel causeway at midnight listening to the waves kiss the shores of the sandy bay, to dance like no one is watching in front of the Eiffel Tower, to smell the fresh cut hay just two miles away from the nearest castle, or to be the first person of the day to stroll through the main street of a town that is just on the verge of waking up.  Even if you do it just to get a pristine photo without others blocking your view, you can have a really magical moment if you can find a way to enjoy a place all on your own.

Here are just some of the places where I took advantage of being out and about when the the crowds were getting their beauty sleep. (Click on any of the thumbnails to launch the slideshow.)

Natural Beauty: Worth the Bite

I detest insects.  I can’t help it.  I like spiders, snakes, dogs, cats, cows, chickens, monkeys, and sheep, but not insects.  They tend to bite me…a lot.  So, I generally do my best to avoid them.  My windows are kept closed if there’s no screen, and I wear Off! or a citronella wristband (so fashionable) to dissuade those little monsters from coming near me.  I try not to invade their space or harm them and wish dearly that they would offer me the same courtesy.

That being said, some things are worth the bite.  Being in nature obviously requires a different perspective.  And traveling through Europe provides so many opportunities to  admire and engage in natural visual masterpieces.  Whether enjoying a precisely manicured French garden or an overflowing English one, hiking through Alpine trails or boating on a river, watching horses while they’re feeding or snow melting into a stream, the beauty of nature is all around you.  And the bonus: it’s often free, it’s accessible, and it’s practically impossible to improve on it.  While painting, sculptures, and photos can be awe-inspiring, you don’t need a museum to see the greatest works of art.  Just step outside and look at the natural world around you.

Now, take a look at these photos and imagine you’re there.  Take a deep breath, smell the alpine trees, the fresh cut grass, and the floral sweetness.  Feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your face.  It’s you in the absolute serenity and beauty of God’s creation.  There is no greater perfection.

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Making the Best out of Being Where You Are (part 2 The How-To)

In my previous blog post, I wrote:

Whether you’re away on vacation or just living like a local on “staycation”, whether it’s your virgin visit or you know the place like a pro, find alternate ways to enjoy the place you’re visiting.  You have the opportunity and the choice to do something beyond the ordinary, so make the best out of being where you are.  Get rid of your checklist, discover and enjoy the abundance of things that that place has to offer – not only to its visitors but especially to its locals, and create your own memorable experiences.

Here are some photos and videos of how my friends and I found ways to do exactly that this summer in Europe (Click on the thumbnails to view full-size photos and launch the slideshow).

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Don’t be afraid to interact with the locals.  You just may find that you have something in common or that you have something you can learn from each other.

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Try a different way of experiencing a place.  At the le Chateau de Chambord , most people do the standard visit of the castle.  Having done that a few times already, Arnaud and I chose to bike part of the domaine de Chambord –its forests which encompass the same amount of square kilometers as Paris.

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Not only did we get in a great workout, but we also got a chance to connect with nature, pretend we were nobility on horses hunting for boar, see the grounds and and new (for us) views of the castle.

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Despite mistakenly saying once on the video that I’m on a tobaggan, I actually was on a luge track in Germany.  Why go luging ?  Why not!

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Parasailing in Switzerland?  Yup, did that, too!

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In Bayeaux, I met three Irish kids playing in the street while their dads chatted on the terrace of a pub.  The kids looked like they were having fun, so I asked if I could join along and try out their toy.  I look like a nut in this video, but I really had a great time just being a kid again and meeting some wee Irish lads and lassies.

It’s your vacation.  It’s your time.  It’s your money.  It’s your travel moment.  Find ways to make it a unique experience worth remembering.