Adventure of the month

Fifteen years ago, I had the good fortune of going to one of Europe's booziest cities at the peak of its drinky drunkenness.  More specifically, that would be Munich on the opening day of Oktoberfest.  From the moment the first keg was ceremoniously tapped (noon-ish?) until the wee hours of that evening, my friend Michelle and I swung heavy tankards to and fro, all whilst becoming increasingly proficient in the art of German drinking songs.  As we stumbled from tent to tent, I remember trying to find something non-meatlike that I could eat.  The sole menu item available to me was the giant pretzel. I must have had at least a half dozen in a misguided attempt to somehow soak up all the alcohol that was coursing through my system. That day was as messy as it was fun.  Falling asleep on the train and ending up in the wrong part of the country the next day...not so much.  But we survived it and had a story to tell...but not a single non-ale related photo to...

There are times when friends, colleagues or perhaps chatty strangers compliment me on my photos. I love that. I've always wanted to take a photography class, but that- along with those French and sushi-making classes- tend to get pushed aside to some vague undefined future date. In the meantime, those pictures aren't going to take themselves, so I have to make do. In order to get maximum results with minimum training, there are a couple of tricks that I employ. First of all, I carry a camera, a Canon Powershot SX20is. This should seem fairly obvious but we now live in an era where Apple, Samsung et al have convinced people that phones= cameras. They don't. A phone will do when you absolutely positively have to get a photo of your Spaghetti Bolognese because, man oh man, that Olive Garden is off the chain but if you are in the middle of the Serengeti, trying to capture the majesty of a pride of lions with your iPhone5s, I am going to mock you two ways. Loudly and of...

I have always had mixed feelings about Salt Lake City. In my very limited experience, I have found it to be an interesting study in contrast.  One look around and you find a city with magnificent mountain vistas and a proximity to some of the country's most spectacular national parks but to get to them you have to run the gauntlet of all these seemingly lobotomized women who refer to each other as Sister-so-and-so and are very intent on getting your home address. It would be easy to infer that they were escaped inmates from a nearby asylum, but they are not.  They are Mormons and they want to make more Mormons. Salt Lake City is a beautiful place but the heavy hand of the Mormon Church always manages to creep me out a bit. How heavy is the hand? The city itself is built around the well-maintained yet still slightly off-putting Temple Square (home to the largest concentration of loboto-sisters)... but like literally built around it.  If someone gives you the address 3...

What do you get when you combine an extended stay in Los Angeles, a day that is supposed to be rainy but turns out to be quite nice, a mostly chilled out group of people (one of whom has what can be most generously described as having a slight Groupon addiction) and some very cooperative marine life? An excellent day of whale watching, that's what.  Or not.  I am not making any promises since I am not sure that this formula can ever be precisely duplicated. Assuming you keep good company, getting the group together and rooting out the discounted deals is easy (just google Groupon or Living Social and whatever city you happen to be in and you will find lots of things to keep the tourist with time on her hands busy).  Getting both Mother Nature and the elusive denizens of the Pacific Ocean to play along is another story altogether.

Earlier this month, I bemoaned 2014's slow start, at least where travel-related adventures were concerned. Was this to be an omen for things (not) to come? Was I to be homebound or exiled to nothing but frozen tundra until Springtime? In an attempt to keep the blog going, I wandered around my neighborhood, snapped some photos and hoped that it would do. How was I to know that my luck was about to turn? How could I have predicted that a mere three days later I would be going to prison? And not just any prison, I would be finding myself within the walls of the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia, PA. This is an institution that was the first of its kind; was one of the most expensive public works project in the US at the time of its construction; has been featured on practically every-Paranormal type program there is (ie. Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures, Most Haunted Live- and who knew ghosts were such hams?)and has served as the setting for both the Dead Milkmen's...

I have a conundrum.  When I began this blog 8(!!!) years ago this month, the plan was to post at least one travel-related entry per month.  Knowing my mastery of the art of procrastination, I even chose a title that would, by its very definition mandate that I keep to this schedule.  So far, 213 posts later, it has all been well and good.  Even on the slow months, I have always managed to find some place that I deem to be blog-worthy. But so far, this month has been a different story.  I have gone to exactly two places.  The first, Des Moines, Iowa managed to spectacularly destroy my "avoid the winter of 2013/14" plans.  It was something-below-zero degrees.  I don't remember the exact temperature but it doesn't matter. Anything below zero is uninhabitable and anyone that thinks otherwise is nuts.  I chose to protest these inhumane conditions by following the path of activists and freedom fighters throughout history.  That is, if th...

I like to think that I am a person of simple wants and desires. I am fortunate to have good health, a job I thoroughly enjoy and friends that fill my life with love and laughter. What else could I want? Well, for starters, this year I was hoping for a winter that was not quite so wintery. I know that everybody raves about the "seasons" and I get it. Growing up in South Florida, I did not have a chance to experience snow until late into my teens and once I did I thought it was the most beautiful thing ever. For each and every one of the past twenty years or so, my travels both professional and personal, have allowed me to revel in the childlike wonder inherent in seeing fluffy flakes drifting down around me. That first snowfall is always magical. I get it. It's great. It's photogenic. So pretty. I'm over it. I'm over having to spend half my day getting dressed and undressed...because "layering". I'm over stepping on what appears to be so...