Stamp Collector

With the school starting again this week, summer is officially over. Sure the calendar says we still have another month but for us both the Belgian weather and the afore mentioned school mean that the all too short summer season has come to an end. And what a summer it has been. We've explored new territory both in our backyard and farther afoot, attended summer camp (Sidney) and hung out at home. And because I made a conscious effort to disconnect, or at least reduce, my screen time, I have yet to write about these adventures. (Not to worry though, as these stories will be coming shortly).

For many, summer means a slower pace, a change of routine and (for those of us not undergoing a forced, job related move), vacations. Here in Europe vacation time is serious business with reduced work schedules throughout the week and people taking three week vacations being the norm. (When Glenn let his co-workers know that the would be out of the office for two weeks they scoffed and wanted to know why his trip was going to be so short). I've loved looking at the pictures my friends have shared of their own summer vacations--for international explorations to stay-cations discovering the wonders of one's own neighborhoods, they have looked like so much fun. I know people who have camped in the mountains, cruised the high seas, lolled on beaches and knocked more national parks off of their bucket lists. Friends have volunteered in third world countries and even bicycled over the Alps. Some people head to warm sunny places for vacation while others, like us, seek out cooler climates. All of this was done in the name of "vacation" which just proves that everyone has a different idea of what they like to do during their time off.

One persons vacation is another persons idea of torture. Take cruising for instance. I know people who cruise on a regular basis because they love having their meals included in the price of their voyage and only having to unpack once all while visiting a variety of ports. I've cruised on several occasions and simply haven't enjoyed myself. I've found the unlimited food to be just ho-hum, the ship board entertainment to be "not my cup of tea" and the time in port too limiting to actually see the sights I want to see. But because Europe is a great jumping off point for cruises I recently found myself contemplating taking another one. After all, the cruise I was looking at would take us to countries on our bucket list that we had yet to visit. But a closer examination of the time in port, eight hours with a six am docking, would leave us with scant time to really get a feel for the places we want to see and just enough time to say that we had been there. For some people that may be enough but it isn't for us so no cruising is on our travel agenda.

But when it comes to road trips.....bring it on. Our favorite vacations have included miles in the car exploring whatever we encounter between points A and B. We've road tripped through Scandinavia, across the Balkans from Albania to Romania and back, along the east coast of the United States and most recently, throughout the United Kingdom. We pick a few destinations along the way, set our GPS to avoid the highways and away we go. We take spontaneous breaks for food, stop to take pictures where the setting is right and in doing so, have discovered some amazing spots along the way. For some people the idea of spending hours on the road is anything but a vacation but for us, it is the right fit.

One of the trends I've seen a lot while living in Belgium is people who try to visit as many countries as possible while stationed overseas. I completely understand this and in fact, this is part of our own travel planning. (At the moment we're at 37 countries and counting). But we have criteria for counting the countries as having visited them; we must have slept in the country or at least spent an entire day there. A layover in an airport where you never leave the terminal doesn't count. I once had a conversation with someone who bragged about his knowledge of the Adriatic coast in the Balkans. He had flown into Dubrovnik, Croatia then rented a car and drove south through a sliver of Bosnia before entering Montenegro and then finally Albania. With the exception of border crossing he never stopped and immediately reentered Montenegro upon clearing border control in Albania. Four countries in less than a day was how he presented this portion of his trip. He claimed to have seen all that he needed to see and now had a clearer understanding of all of these countries. Now I have driven this stretch of road many times and while breathtakingly spectacular, I do not profess to have any expertise on these places. But, this is just another reason and way people travel.

But regardless of how you go about doing it, travel is a wonderfully educational and enlightening experience. It introduces you to new people, places and things. They may be in your own city or state or half a world away from the place you call home. Whether you explore a single city or neighborhood, visit a country in depth or even do a fly-by drive through a place you will leave with new experiences and memories to last you a life time. That is what makes travel so special. So as we enter a new season I'm carrying with me memories of my most recent travel adventures. And I've also found inspiration in those of my friends which has me thinking about next summer's trip. It just might be for three weeks........

Wanderlust.....

I travel because I must. I love traveling; whether local or afar travel inspires me and nurtures my soul. For every place I check off of my bucket list, two more get added. I'll never experience every place there is to see, but I'm going to do my best at trying. And I'm not alone:

I whole heartedly agree with all of these quotes.  To see more inspirational travel quotes click here.

Wanderlust...

I'm getting that itch again. Whereas we were always on the go and traveling when we were living in Albania, life in Belgium is a bit more staid. While we are enjoying our time here much more than our Balkan experience, we are traveling a lot less. And I miss it. I have that travel itch and it is only getting worse. But without a big trip on the horizon I'm reliving some of my favorite trips from the past few years. And here's a (re)post about last fall's trip to Tuscany. I loved every moment of it and can't wait to go back. (Soon I hope). But in the meantime, this is all I have.

We spent the past weekend exploring the hill towns of Tuscany.  While it was a first trip for Glenn and Sidney, it was an encore one for me and I was excited to introduce my boys to a part of Italy that I absolutely adore.  I first visited Tuscany in 2008 with my mom when we spent twelve glorious days eating, drinking, and exploring our way from Lucca to Siena and everywhere in between.  The trip was so memorable that I have been talking and thinking about this beautiful place ever since and I had been dying to go back.  Despite my desire, a small part of me feared returning since there was the chance that Tuscany wouldn't live up to my memories.  Fortunately I was wrong.  Dead wrong in fact.  As we retraced my footsteps every place was just as wonderful, if not more so, than I remembered it being. 

Two things struck me immediately.  The first thing I noticed was that Tuscany was filled with more American tourists than I remembered.  Whether we were in line waiting to pick up our rental car, on the train to Lucca, or sitting at a local wine festival in Greve, Americans were everywhere.  I almost think we saw more Americans than we did Italians.  Or at least it felt that way since our dining companions at even the most tucked away restaurants were fellow Americans. The other thing I noticed was the sheer beauty of Tuscany; it was more spectacular than I remembered.  In many ways the scenery, filled with rolling hills, vineyards, and stone buildings, was so idyllic it felt like a cliche.  If you've ever seen a calendar of Tuscan scenes and wondered whether they are real or not, trust me--they are. 

We packed a lot into our long weekend.  Of course it wouldn't be a trip to Pisa without standing in the shadow of the City's famous Leaning Tower.  But as it usually the case, the best parts of the country are those outside of the urban areas.  We took the train to the walled city of Lucca and despite the rain, spent several hours walking along the broad wall and meandering through the narrow cobblestone streets and alleys that are quintessential Italy.  With our little rental car (Sidney said it was like his Cozy Coupe), we set out across the Tuscan hills to Siena where I finally climbed to the top of the Torre del Mangia in the Piazza del Campo.  My fear of heights prevented me from doing it the first time I visited but this time I was determined to accompany Sidney and Glenn to the top.  The famous Palio di Siena horse race takes place in the square twice a year but during our visit it was pleasantly tranquil (except for the other American tourists) providing Sidney with ample room to chase pigeons.  We visited the famous wine town of Montepulciano where we of course sampled the local beverage.  In Greve in Chianti we happened upon a local wine and food festival and joined the locals (and American tourists) in drinking wine and eating massive plates of fresh grilled meats and beans.  Just outside of Greve we walked through the narrow alleys of Montefioralle and dreamed about what it would be like to have a retirement home in this hilltop village.  In between all of this we took in miles upon miles of rolling hills covered with vineyards, olive groves, and cypress lined lanes leading to hilltop villas.  Avoiding the highways we drove along both paved and dirt roads stopping to take pictures and just enjoy the views along the way.  The whole experience was just so relaxing.

And of course we ate.  While Sidney had his fill of pizza with the occasional pasta thrown in for variety, Glenn and I were able to eat fresh pastas and other specialities to our hearts desire.  Autumn is truffle season in Tuscany so this delicacy was on the menu as was Glenn's all time favorite dessert, tirimisu.  Sidney is now a fan as well and most nights ended with my two boys spoon-fighting over the last remnants on the dessert plate.  Tuscany is probably best known for her wine and of course it didn't disappoint.  In Albania I am loathe to order the house wine in a restaurant but in Tuscany, that is all we drank and it was good.  Really good.  Unfortunately because we were flying home we were limited in what we could buy but we enjoyed what we could.  (We will just have to go back to drink some more).



I loved Tuscany the first time but love it all the more now.  Seeing it through Sidney's eyes, complete with water fountains, "pretty" fields, and yes pigeons, gave me a whole new appreciation for the region.  I will never get tired of the scenery, the food, or the gentle feel of Tuscany.  Once again, I can't wait to go back. 

Reclining Rights

There's been a lot of news about poor airplane behavior lately. Within the past two weeks alone there have been at least three highly publicized incidents of fights between passengers over the right to recline one's seat. One passenger wants to recline their seat, the passenger behind them doesn't like the idea and an argument ensues. Sometimes they simply can't because the seat is blocked by a rather ingenious (?) hideous (?) completely self serving knee saving device; other times the seat does recline but verbal or even physical assaults result. So who is in the right and who is in the wrong? I guess it depends upon where you are sitting (literally).

I'll be the first to agree that the customer service standards of American airlines leave a lot to be desired. There really isn't any comparison between a European or Asian flagged carrier and an American one. The ticket prices might be higher on the former flights but you get what you pay for; free checked luggage, complementary food and drinks and larger seats while the American airlines are increasingly nickel and diming their passengers by charging for everything. I do find it ironic that a country with one of the the largest obesity problems has airlines that are increasingly pinching their customers into smaller seats. Is this a hint......

I should preface all of this by stating that although I am a frequent traveler, I am fortunate that I don't have long legs so leg room is never really an issue for me. That said, I am still not a fan of the person in front of my reclining their seat into what I consider to be my space. But, and this is a big but, if their seat reclines I believe they should have the right to recline it. They paid for it so they can do what they like with it. The same goes for arm rests; if I want mine down I don't think it should be raised simply because the person next to me needs more space. If you know you need more space, pay for it.

The airline industry is a for-profit business. If they choose to have narrow seats, seats that don't recline, or charge for each bag you carry onto the plane, those are business decisions. As customers we can choose to accept their terms or not. The last time I checked no one has ever been forced to get on an airplane; rather they choose to because it is convenient, they feel as though they have to get from point A to point B or they want to go someplace as cheaply as they can. As a paying customer if I don't like what the airline is offering I will choose another one. You get what you pay for so if I want a larger seat with more room I will pay for an upgrade. If I chose to buy the cheapest ticket possible I will carry on my size and weight restricted bag, sit in my narrow seat and make the best of the flight. After all, the flight won't last forever. Maybe going the way of Sprint Airlines, who has disabled the reclining mechanism in all of their seats, is the way to go. Their flights are still full and no planes are being diverted over arguments over the seats.

But at the end of the day it comes down to common courtesy. Follow the rules set out by the airline. If something is forbidden on the flight (I'm talking about those knee saving devices) then don't think you are so special that the ban doesn't apply to you. Treat others as you want them to treat you. Even on long haul flights, I personally choose not to recline my seat so I can be considerate of the person behind me. (The one time I did recline was on an Alitalia flight from Boston to Rome. I was holding my son, who had just fallen asleep on my shoulder. The minute I reclined my seat the man behind me slammed my seat back so hard that it jolted my baby awake. He proceeded to cry for the remaining flight which I considered to be enough sweet justice to the man seated behind us). If the flight is diverted because of unruly passengers, don't get angry at the airline because you think their seats are too small; blame the passengers. If you don't like it, don't fly. No one is forcing you to board that plane.

The More Things Change.....

the more they stay the same. Or so it seems.

It all begs the question of whether you can go home again. Maybe in a physical sense you can but do you ever find things the way you left them? Physically they may (or may not) be but if you are looking at them through a different, more experienced lens, are they really the same? Are they as you remembered them or do they look older, larger or smaller, or just different?

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of activity for us as we have been traveling up the East Coast visiting family, friends, and places we haven't seen in several years, if not longer. Its been exciting and exhausting, enjoyable and disappointing all at the same time. Because just as people change, things change... meaning I'm not viewing these places I once called home in the same way I did before. It is like attending a class reunion where everyone is vaguely familiar but not quite the same as you remembered them. This isn't a good or bad thing; but rather I'm finding the whole experience to be mildly unnerving.

As we've moved from one old haunt to the next it has felt as we are slogging along in slow motion, viewing the world as outsiders looking in. Things have changed yet remained the same. The traffic in the DC metro area? It is as horrible, if not worse, than we remember it and served as a constant reminder about what we don't like about the area. The cookie cutter suburbs filled with the same oversized house after same oversized house on the identically landscaped lots struck me as disturbingly conformist. At the same time I found the vibrancy and seeming rebirth of parts of the area to be exciting. Construction that had been halted amid the economic bust the last time we were in the area was once again moving forward while other projects had been completed. We visited on the cusp of the long anticipated opening of the new silver line of the Metro. As we've seen in cities around the world, a committment to expanded public transportation is always a positive move for a community and seeing the years of talks, construction and disruption come to fruition made me stop and think that maybe the area is more progressive than I had been thinking.

Driving through our old home town of Norfolk we felt as though the city was frozen in time. Most of the restaurants and shops were exactly as I remembered them. There the same construction projects that had been unfinished four years ago still remained idle. I swear, even the pot holes and road construction signs looked as though they hadn't been touched since the last time I saw them. Our old house, the labor of love where we had invested hundreds of hours of manual labor to remodel looked exactly as it did the day we moved out. In a way it was haunting to sit at the end of our old driveway and look at the house and life that used to be ours. Did I miss it? No. But it felt funny just the same. Yes there were noticeable differences though both good and bad. First the good: the city now has its own light rail system and we saw the shiny train cars making their way through the city streets. The bad? the cars, however, appeared to be devoid of passengers at all hours of the day. And those beautiful old neighborhoods along the water that I used to dream of living in? They were still there but now for sale signs dotted too many yards to count. Their prices were so low (I looked) that we could easily afford to buy one now but is it the time to buy or to get out?

The list of things that are different but the same in places all along our journey goes on. But have these places really stayed the same yet changed or have I? Am I not seeing things the same way I used to? I guess at this point I'm simply feeling unnerved. The places that used to feel like home to me no longer do. And it all begs the question of where can I now call home?

Leaving On A Jet Plane

All my (our) bags are packed
I'm (we're) ready to go.........

And at last, we're off. After just over three years we're are mere hours away from setting foot on American soil again as a family. I didn't anticipate being this excited about it but now that we're on our way out the door, I am. As frustrated as I find myself at times about my country and her politics, it is still my home. And I am going home.

Actually, I'm not really sure where home is any more but we're hitting all of the spots we have lived in recent years. From Virginia to Maine with several stops in between we're going to spend time there over the next few weeks. Since we'll be on the move a lot I'm not sure how relaxing this vacation will be. But that is OK since we're going to be seeing old friends, family and places that hold special memories for us. We'll eat, drink and be merry all the way up Interstate 95.

But because we will be on vacation and despite being on the go, we're going to slow down our pace. As much as possible we're going to disconnect from electronics and reconnect with each other. So my blogging is going to slow down and be replaced with just experiencing the world around me. I need this break and really can't wait. And with that,

                                                                 All my bags are packed
                                                                 I'm ready to go.............

Canterbury Tales

Canterbury Cathedral

Following what has become a tradition during our family travels, no trip would be complete without a visit to the local cathedral. So while we were in Kent, the historic World Heritage UNESCO designated Canterbury Cathedral was an obvious choice. And this grand building was every bit as impressive as I had anticipated. 

The Cathedral as seen
from another angel

The Romanesque and Gothic structure was undergoing exterior renovations during our visit but the scaffolding did nothing to detract from her impressive facade. First the cathedral is old. Very old. It was first built in 597 then completely rebuilt between 1070 and 1077 then expanded upon over the course of the next century. It was originally home to the Catholic Church before becoming the home to the Church of England. While Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket was murdered in the Cathedral in 1170 after excommunicating and angering other bishops for breaching Canterbury's privilege of coronation. His death made Becket a martyr and resulted in the Cathedral becoming a place of pilgrimage, thus ensuring the Cathedral's expansion and ongoing prosperity. A shrine honoring Becket was constructed in Trinity Chapel and pilgrims visited under the auspices that the tomb was a site of healing. (The waves of pilgrims was portrayed in Chaucer's famous novel Canterbury Tales).

The magnitude of the Cathedral felt from the minute we stepped into the church. Despite the crowds (or pilgrims?), with its soaring ceilings and stone pillars the church had a serene and calming feel. Whereas I have found so many Roman Catholic churches to be ornate with gilded gold, ceiling frescoes, and rich stained glass covering every surface, Canterbury Cathedral felt stark in comparison. And this starkness was what made the church's interior feel so calming and welcoming. The crypt below the Cathedral is the oldest existing part of the church and proved to be the largest crypt I have ever visited. Although it had low ceilings is was cavernous and felt like it went on forever. And because we were visiting the Cathedral during the noon hour we had the opportunity to hear a choir singing in an informal recital. Their voices echoed through the building in a way that is only possible in a church. Sidney was so entranced by the performance that we sat and listened until the performance was over.

But there is so much more to a visit to the Cathedral than the cathedral itself. Unlike so many of the cathedrals we have visited, this one is set amongst lush grounds on the edge of the town. A walk through the manicured gardens was just as impressive as the interior of the church. By this point in the day the clouds had lifted and the sun was shining providing the perfect opportunity for a garden walk. We walked through the manicured grounds looking at the flowers, explored stone niches and peered through iron gates at cats lazing in the warm sunshine. Although the only thing that stood between us and the hustle and bustle of Canterbury's busy streets was a stone wall, if felt like we were miles away. It was peaceful and the perfect capstone for our latest cathedral visit.

One of the many gardens surrounding the Cathedral

A peak through the wall

If you go:

Cathedral House
11 The Precincts
Canterbury, Kent UK
+44 1227 762862
www.canterbury-cathedral.org

Open: 09.00-17.00

Eating In Maine: A Book Review w/ A Touch Of Homesickness

Right about now I am feeling pretty homesick for Maine. Maybe it is the fact that it has been two years since I made a brief summer visit to the town where I grew up. Perhaps it is because we have another, much longer Maine trip looming on the horizon. Or perhaps it is the decidedly non- summer weather we have been experiencing here in Belgium that makes me crave a warm Maine summer day--the type that is cool and crisp in the morning and evening with just the right amount of heat in the middle of the day. Actually, I think it is the combination of all of the above. Add in the recent arrival of my long awaited Eating In Maine book by Maine food bloggers Jillian and Malcolm Bedell and I just can't wait to "go home." But that trip is still weeks away so in the meantime I've been fulfilling my Maine cravings with their book and enjoying every minute of it.

Now this isn't your ordinary cookbook; part travel guide and part restaurant reviews with 115 recipes (hence the cookbook part) and lots of personal commentary, it is everything I would expect from these two great bloggers. The unknowing might be surprised to learn that Maine has a burgeoning foodie scene but it does. I remember spending a considerable amount of time in Portland a few years ago and being surprised myself at the number of great, innovative restaurants that were available. (Hot Suppa was my go to lunch option during the month Sidney was in the hospital there). And the options aren't just limited to Portland. The Bedells capture these places in their book but also focus on the small, out of your way or casual (this picnic table) eateries that are Maine institutions.


In many respects reading this book (OK, drooling over the photographs) was a type of homecoming for me. Malcolm grew up in the same area as I did only a decade later. But his references to the Maine dining institutions brought all of the memories back for me. Pies at Moody's Diner (do you only get to choose one type?) and hot dogs cooked in peanut oil from Wasses Hot Dogs, (Glenn thought he had died and gone to heaven when I introduced him to this hot dog stand and to this day it is the first place we stop when we hit the Mid Coast area) are an important part of my childhood memories. And then you have Dysart's, the truck stop in Bangor, Maine where nothing tasted better than a hot open faced turkey sandwich after spending a week backpacking in Baxter State Park. These places aren't fancy and would probably be looked down upon by more sophisticated appetites but they are a part of my Maine experience. And then there are the recipes for whoopie pies and dishes that include Moxie. It really doesn't get more Maine than this.

This book not only leaves my feeling hungry but it has me wanting to both cook and eat out at the restaurants they recommend. I don't particularly care for lobster (I know, call me a bad Mainer) but the pictures, recipes and restaurant reviews have me craving a fresh lobster roll.  As for my other meals, I'm still undecided but the options really are limitless. In fact, in this day and age of e-readers, I'm going to allot some of my precious luggage weight to bringing this book to Maine with me. It may be too soon to start packing for the trip but I can certainly start planning my Maine meals and begin cooking my way through their recipes.

On The White Cliffs Of Dover

The White Cliffs of Dover

I remember hearing about the White Cliffs of Dover for years and wondered if their chalky color was as real in person as it was in the pictures I had seen. And thanks to a recent visit I can now firmly state that they are.

Soaring 350 feet above the English Channel and located about 21 miles from the northern coast of France, these chalky white cliffs are an impressive sight. The distance is so short that on a clear day, much like the one we visited, you can clearly France from the top of the cliffs. During the 1940 Battle of Britain, reporters are said to have watched the aerial maneuvers of the British and German pilots from the top of them. The cliffs themselves are composed of chalk, flint and quartz but because of their materials, are actually quite soft. This results in their eroding just under half an inch a year. Now this may not sound like a lot but over time it adds up. And sometimes, as was the case as recently as 2001 and again in 2012, large chunks of the cliffs have given way and collapsed into the sea. (Hence the reason visitors are advised to stay away from the edges of the cliffs).

Another perspective

Today, visiting the cliffs is a breathtaking experience. The day we visited defied our weather expectations as we experienced nothing but clear blue skies and lots of bright sunshine. Much of the area surrounding the cliffs is protected by the National Trust whose members may access the site for free. For the rest of us, we paid a nominal fee to park our car but were then free to rambled across the grassy cliff tops for free. (Seriously, this is one of the best value historic sites I've ever visited). There is a visitor center on site as well as the ubiquitous gift shop and cafe but the best part of the visit is just getting out and exploring. A series of well worn paths crisscrosses the length of the cliffs. Trails are both well marked and unmarked providing the opportunity to take the "high"route well away from the cliff edge or the "lower" route which follows the dips and rises of the earth as it hugs the edges of the cliff. Or you can take the in between route which offers you a bit of both. Along the way there are plenty of benches where you can sit and rest and informational placards detailing the rich history of the area. Part of the route takes you alongside a sheep pasture and fields filled with wildflowers. If these sights weren't enough to take in, from the highest point on the cliffs we could simultaneously look west and see the Dover Castle, look south and see the shores of France and east to see the South Foreland Lighthouse which was built in 1843. It was all pretty spectacular. And because we were visiting in the middle of the week we had much of the place to ourselves.

After leisurely stroll up and down the hills we treated ourselves to a traditional cream tea at a cute little tea house that shared space with the lighthouse. Sidney checked out the old cannons that were on the lighthouse grounds while I simply enjoyed the view and the smell of the sea air. I have come to realize that not all sea air is created equal; the warm sultry smells of the Adriatic and Mediterranean Seas only vaguely resemble the crisp Atlantic smells I grew up with. For me, the air in Dover was reminiscent of my childhood. The walk back to the car was slower; we took the "lower" route which had considerably more dips and hills, including a rather steep set of stairs that scaled a hill. But the climb was worth it. Actually the entire visit was worth it and although it was the first stop on our getaway to Kent it was by far my favorite. I dare say I would return in a heartbeat.

Worn paths crisscrossing the top of the cliffs

If you go:

The White Cliffs of Dover & South Foreland Lighthouse
Upper Road
Dover, Kent
Telephone: 01304 202756
email: whitecliffs@nationaltrust.org.uk
http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/white-cliffs-dover/

Keep To The Left

Friendly reminders greeted us upon disembarking
(and they were needed)

This past weekend we escaped to England for a few days. While we've done a lot of traveling over the past few years, this was our first trip to the U.K. and we were excited to explore the Kent countryside. And because we drove over through the Channel Tunnel, the first thing we noticed was the need to drive on the left. Yes, for the first time we found ourselves in a country where driving on the left is the law and it flew in the face of what we were accustomed to. Obviously we knew about this rule before arriving but finding ourselves on the road and actually having to drive in the "wrong" lane took some time to get used to.

So why do the British, and drivers in most other Commonwealth countries, drive on the left side of the road? The explanation (or this story at least) is actually quite logical and dates back to the 1700s. Because most people were right handed and therefore carried their weapon in their right hand, smart travelers always wanted to keep the people they passed on their right. But along came Napoleon who was left handed and in order to keep his sword between himself and his enemies, his armies started to march on the right. Americans, eager to shake off any remnants of colonial rule, followed suit and took to traveling on the right. American car manufacturers obviously built cars whose steering wheels were positioned on the left for right side driving. As the international market for American vehicles grew, more countries switched from driving on the left to driving on the right. But not Great Britain. Or so the story goes......

So what was our driving experience like? Fortunately Glenn did all of the driving by as the co-pilot I found myself repeating the mantra of "stay to the left, stay to the left" every time we got into the car. On the narrow country lanes that allowed for only a single lane of traffic to pass, we had no problem. In fact, we spent hours exploring the quaint villages where every house had a name and lush countryside that is Kent. These roads with charming names like Old Wives Lee, The Downs, and Fairy Close, and were alternately paved, hard packed dirt, or wet mud, forcing us to go slow and take in our surroundings. Just about every road was crisscrossed with pedestrian right of ways (walking trails) and lined by high hedges. Many felt like tunnels of trees with branches arching high over the right of way. It was simply so peaceful. We passed riders on horseback, people out walking their dogs, and too many sheep and rabbits to count. On the rare occasions we encountered an oncoming vehicle, one of us would carefully back up until we reached a wider section of road or one of the strategically placed pullouts and allow the other car to pass with a smile and a wave. (It felt as though the drivers here were so friendly).

This street was named......The Street

But then we encountered the highways where on and off ramps were accessed from the left and slow traffic kept to the left rather than the right. Intersections required the repeating of our mantra, following the verbal guidance of Sir Colin, our trusty GPS, and focused concentration about turning right while sticking to traveling in the left lane. Traffic circles, which were many, were much more difficult. Traffic moved clockwise forcing us to have to remember to look right instead of left for oncoming cars before nosing out into the traffic. Fortunately the signs were all in English (this was the first trip in three years where English was the local language) allowing us to focus on the cars rather than the signs. We counted the off ramps and somehow survived unscathed. I guess you could say that the driving was a bit exhilarating but I found myself longing for more quiet country lanes and fewer highways. There the driving was almost carefree.

So, when in England keep to the left, keep to the left. Until the train spits you back out on the Continent and then it is back to the right.

On The Ramparts Of Le Quesnoy

Yes, that is a vehicle bridge linking the town with the rest
of the world in the background

We are lucky to be living in a great location where so much of Europe is literally a stone's throw away. Such was the case on a recent weekend when we decided to visit the French town of Le Quesnoy, which we discovered is only a half hour away from our house. So yes, off we went to spend the morning in France. And what we found made this quick jaunt worth it and with its close proximity, I know it is a place we will be visiting again.

Le Quesnoy is located in northern France just over the Belgian border. Like so many of the other towns that dot the French and Belgian countrysides, Le Quesnoy has a long and storied history dating back to the Middle Ages. Over the years it has been defended, occupied, and / or abandoned by invading armies, most recently in 1940 when German forces were held at bay over the course of the four days during the Battle of France. This isn't what makes this little town with a population hovering around 5,000 so special. It is the great walls, or ramparts, surrounding the town that are bringing tourists and locals alike into this berg. That is, after all, what brought us there.

A wee stream flowing through the marsh

Two sets of five kilometer long brick ramparts circle the town creating a haven of green where mother nature and mankind meet. Truly. The area between the ramparts, what had been a part of the original "killing field" defense system of the town are now a nature preserve filled with streams, trees and flowers, and ducks. Lots and lots of ducks and other water fowl. A walking trail, dotted with strategically placed benches for sitting, alternated between the top of the ramparts and below, in between the brick walls. It meandered through the area creating a serene space that felt a world away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. The outer brick walls which had been rebuilt and refortified over time created a barrier between the preserve and everything else.

We visited on a cool and damp morning and essentially had the preserve to ourselves. I'm not exactly sure what we were expecting to find but my first impression was that the area was green. Very green and lush. Everything from the grass and trees to the flowers and vines clinging to the brick walls was green. If felt as though spring was definitely alive. And best of all, because this area is truly a pedestrian only zone, Sidney was free to run, play, and explore to his heart's content. (This is especially important since we live in a city with only the most minuscule of green space available to him). We watched ducks swimming in the stream, stumbled upon an entire field of bunny rabbits frolicking in the damp grass, and climbed up and down too many sets of stairs to count. We explored tunnels, introduced Sidney to the wonders of buttercups (one of my favorite childhood memories), and just had a wonderful and relaxing stroll. And Sidney being Sidney, he threw his share of rocks into the water and found "the biggest stick ever". (His words, not mine).

Le Quesnoy is a true gem and I am so glad we found it. It is truly a beautiful place. But since pictures say it best, here are a few of my favorites:

Lush grass, bricks, and stones

The only thing stirring was this Mallard

I have no idea why I am so fascinated by these trees, but I am

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Havre Chateau

Just another chateau in the greater Mons neighborhood

The Bucket List

Life is short. And as you grow older, time just flies by faster and faster; it really does. I remember hearing this when I was growing up during a time in my life when it felt like time dragged. But somewhere along the line, perhaps after I had completed my angst filled teenage years, the rate at which time moved started picking up until suddenly it was really flying by. Somehow my twenties flew by, as did my thirties and I now find myself wondering how I will ever be able to accomplish everything I want to do and see everything I want to see.......for me travel is a top priority and with such a big wide world filled with amazing places, how does one even go about prioritizing where they want to go?

Before we moved to Albania more than one person told us to create a bucket list of everything we wanted to see and do during our two years overseas. We were warned to do it right away rather than waiting until we were in our twilight months in order to be sure we didn't run out of time. This was the best piece of advice I've ever been given and is the single thing I advise anyone who asks about how to make the most of their time in any one location. While it may feel as though you will be in a location for ever, you won't. And if you don't make a list and plan, so many wonderful opportunities will simply float away.

After consulting a map of Europe and a long range calendar, Glenn and I dutifully made our list within the first few months we were in Albania. The list was extensive, including both sites within the country and throughout Europe. Some places were those we had never heard of or had never dreamed visiting of while others were places we had always been curious about but never thought we'd have the chance to visit. We took our list one step further and plotted out when we would like to visit--next month, next year, or even in two years--these dates were all penciled in onto our multi page chart. Two years felt like a long time but once we started consulting a calendar we realized our time would be gone before we knew it. When we extended our tour by six months we added a few more places to visit. Pop up work related travel had us rearranging our schedules. When we found out that we would be staying in Europe for a second, three year tour we adjusted our list yet again, removing countries that would be in close proximity to where we would be living and adding those that we would probably never have the chance to visit again. While we never got to every place we had hoped--Sicily and Morocco kept getting bumped-- we traveled to places that we had never dreamed of. Who knew that Bulgaria and Romania were such beautiful places or that the coast of Montenegro could give the Italian and Croatian Rivieras a run for their money in terms of sheer beauty? In the end we managed to visit twenty-three countries over the course of thirty-one months with several countries seeing repeat visits. Now that is pretty impressive if I must say so myself.

So following our own advice, the other night Glenn and I sat down once again to plan out our travel bucket list for the next three years. And of course putting the list together was another fun opportunity to dream. Our new list includes local day trips, long weekend excursions and three much larger, multi-country excursions involving trains, planes, automobiles and boats. Some of the list is quite predictable while other cities and countries are a bit more obscure. I'm sure places will get added as time goes along while others will get bumped because we will simply run out of time. And because we've been on the go since we arrived in Belgium, we are already ticking spots off of the list. Yes, Sicily (fall 2014) and Morocco (April 2015) are back on the list and this time we will really get there. We've added some Baltic countries to our itinerary and old favorites such as Italy that are places that just worth visiting over and over. The list is ambitious but we ask ourselves when we will ever have the opportunity again to explore so much of the world that is literally in our backyard. Our answer is probably never so we are taking full advantage of the opportunity of the here and now. Besides, half of the fun of a bucket list is dreaming about the possibilities and right now ours is just overflowing.

So what is on your bucket list?

People Watching

Airports are the ultimate melting pot; where else do people from every continent and segment of society converge into a single location at the same time? I've said this before and was reminded of this during a recent lengthy stay in the Istanbul (Turkey) Airport. As a meeting point for flights heading north, south, east and west this airport is nothing short of huge with 45 million travelers passing through its concourses in 2012 alone. Perched on the cusp of Europe and Asia, flights connecting to all parts of the world pass through this busy airport that, in many respects, is a city unto itself. Because of all of this, the airport is also great places to observe people and the world sound us and that is just what I found myself doing.

With a single glance you can see traditional and modern, old and new, high end luxury and discount materialism co-mingling in a way that can only happen in an airport. First there are the people. Women shrouded in burkas and hijabs walk alongside those sporting skinny jeans and Lycra tank tops. Men in three piece business suits stand alongside those with low slung athletic pants and logo tee shirts. Business travelers with blackberries latched to their ears share the concourse with frazzled looking families and novice travelers who appear to be out of their element. Is it possible that all of these people are boarding the same flight? And then there are all of the other trappings. Louis Vuitton luggage shares conveyor belt space with plastic wrapped cardboard boxes. If shopping is your thing you can pick up a one dollar magnet or a thousand dollar (or more) handbag. Or you can spend your money on overpriced bottled water or surprisingly tasty gourmet food.

As any regular flyer knows, layovers are not necessarily fun but they are a part of the deal. So do what I do and make the best of it. Eat, drink, and be merry while you watch the world pass you by. After all, people watching makes for great entertainment and best of all, it is free.

Give Me Light

A room with a view...of a concrete wall

I love light. Whether it be the long hours of daylight that fill the summer months or simply a brightly lit room, give me light and I immediately feel better. Take away that light and I am simply sad. Our old house in Albania had a lot of small windows which should have let in plenty of light yet I felt as though I spent two and a half years living in the dark because I fought, and lost, a never ending battle with my housekeeper about keeping the shutters open. I would open them and she would immediately close them saying the sun faded rugs, open shutters let in the heat, or the neighbors could look at us if the shutters weren't tightly closed. After a while I gave up and just resorted to buying light bulbs with stronger wattage and spending time outside on the balconies (where yes, the neighbors could see me). Perhaps that is why I was immediately taken with our current house in Belgium. The large windows opening onto both our back yard and the front street are what sold me on the house. Granted, we might not get a lot of sunny days in Belgium but when we do the house is as bright as can be. And even on cloudy days, natural daylight still means the house is still filled with light.

We've been fortunate enough to travel quite a bit over the past few years and I'm discovering that one of my travel pet peeves are rooms without adequate lighting. Granted, rooms with views would be preferable and with a couple of minor exceptions we have had natural light flowing into our rooms. But the exceptions, where light was at a premium, were especially bad. Up until recently, our worst room was one at the Marriott in Waikiki, Hawaii where our room over looked the parking deck. If I sat in a chair and peered up and out the window I could see a glimmer of sunlight. Or I could wait for a car to turn on their headlights and then our room would be flooded with bright light. I thought that was bad but on our recent trip to Istanbul, I found out that what we had in Waikiki was heaven. In Istanbul our room had a great window but it opened onto the concrete wall of the adjacent building. Yup, no natural light at all. (Which is a shame because other than the lack of light, the hotel was quite nice). And that brings me to my next point........

Why oh why can't hotels have adequate lighting? More often than not even the nicest of hotels have too few lights with low wattage light bulbs. A room with a single overhead light really doesn't cut it. I understand the concept of mood lighting but when I can't even see my face in the mirror it just might be too dark in the room. If the room has a desk or workstation I would except there to at least be a brighter light there but I have found that to rarely be the case. Now if you add in a lack of natural light-such as was the case in our Istanbul hotel- and I feel like I'm staying in a cave. Blue tinted lights do little to actually brighten the room. If the bedside lamps were equipped with brighter light bulbs I could really appreciate the colorful cut glass details (and see the pages of my book). Is my eyesight really getting that bad?

Now before booking hotels I usually do my research on a variety travel websites checking out room reviews. (However, the two hotel rooms mentioned above were selected for us courtesy of the military). In all of my research I can't remember a single instance where any reviewer has commented on a room's lighting. Am I the only one who is bothered by this? I need to start writing my own reviews so others can be warned. But perhaps the solution is that I need to start traveling with my own light bulbs!

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Istanbul

Because some places are just worth revisiting; yes we're on the road again!

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Sunny Dreaming

I'm dreaming of a bit of sun and warm weather right about now:

(Temporarily) Living In Luxury

Turn down service for a 4 year old includes stuffed animals
being tucked in and slippers laid out

We are a single income family whose breadwinner is a military officer; therefore we are by no means wealthy. We are comfortable but not rich. We like nice things but understand that in order to have them we must make sacrifices. This means picking and choosing what we spend our money on and this was especially true for our time in Albania. On a day to day basis we drove an old twice-used car and lived rather simply but one of the things we splurged on in the past couple of years was nice hotels whenever we traveled. I chalk it up to the fact we lived in a house that was lacking in many of the creature comforts others took for granted. Yes, we had a lot of living space but it was by no means luxurious. Our house was drafty when the weather was both hot and cold and it was leaky when it rained. Power surges were a way of life and water pressure left a lot to be desired. Our only heat source in our bathrooms was a plug in space heater (and don't even get me started on the lack of air conditioning in the summer months). So yes, whenever we traveled we splurged on our hotels. Glenn developed a knack for selecting nice hotels and even nicer hotel rooms. For us, they were always our little bit of heaven in an otherwise chaotic and often ugly world.

I'll admit, the prospect of staying in high end hotels with a four year old (or younger) often makes me nervous; after all, people are paying good money for their rooms and don't want to be disturbed by rambunctious children. Some hotels have been more welcoming than others; anyone that offers babysitting services (although we've never taken advantage of this), special children's rooms service menus, or other child friendly options is definitely child friendly in my book. Requesting a "child's bed" often proved to be interesting.  In Ljulbjlana, Slovenia we were provided with a newborn sized cradle while in Prague, Czech Republic Sidney had his own queen sized four poster bed. Usually, however, the bed falls somewhere between these two extremes. But regardless of the sleeping accommodations, these hotels welcomed children. Prior to our most recent trip, our favorite child friendly hotel was the Sofitel Chain Bridge in Budapest, Hungary where Sidney was greeted with not one, but two, stuffed bears awaiting him in our room. These bears affectionately became known as the "Buda twins" and are now a part of collection of favorite stuffed animals.

But the nicest hotel we have stayed in to date was on our recent move from Albania to Belgium. While in transit we spent three nights in Hamburg, Germany at the Atlantic Kempinski Hotel. When it comes to hotels we are not brand loyalists; rather we select hotels that are in the right location (for us). And as it turns out, we lucked out in so many ways when it came to staying at the Atlantic. First, as is the case with all Kempinski hotels, they are incredibly child friendly.  But none of that matters at the Kempinski where even the sternest of Germans welcomed Sidney with open arms. Second, there is something to be said for staying in a true five star hotel.  The service is truly exceptional in every way. Even when this travel weary, raggle-taggle family checked in amidst a black tie reception, we were greeted with friendly smiles and warm welcomes.  As we approached the reception desk they already knew our names and the doormen remembered us each and every time we went out the door. (I'd like to think that it wasn't because we made such a spectacle of ourselves). I can't remember a time when I was treated with such respect and called "Mrs. Brown" so many times. And only at a hotel of this caliber do the doormen spin the revolving door for you so you don't have to exert the effort.  From the evening turn down service where even the smallest of guests are treated to robes and slippers to the radiant floor heating in the bathrooms, complementary mini-bar and concierge desk that makes reservations for you and then asks whether or not you enjoyed the experience, this hotel was top notch. And I loved, enjoyed, and appreciated every moment of it.

And now we are back to our new reality. We are still staying in a hotel but this one does not have five star accommodations. Rather this hotel is our home for the foreseeable future until we can move into our new Belgian house. It has neither a concierge desk nor valet service but we do have a coffee pot and a heated bathroom. Our family of three is living in a family suite which is actually a bedroom and a living room/kitchenette space. We are staying in a hotel on a US military base. It is nothing if not utilitarian.  But that is OK. We knew what we were getting into which is why we enjoyed our time in transit so much. You don't know how much you appreciate simple luxuries until you don't have them (i.e. heated bathrooms) so when you once again have the basics you really appreciate them. And when you have the opportunity to experience the luxuries, you enjoy them at the moment then remember them fondly after they are gone.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Winter

Because we are in the dead of winter and I have yet to see any real snow, I'm thinking of snowy winters of past:

Thinned Blood

Baby it is cold outside!  I had always heard that when you spent a significant amount of time in a warmer climate your blood thinned, or at least your body, accustomed to a warmer climate had a harder time feeling comfortable when you travelled to a colder place.  I'm not sure whether I believed it or not but after this past week I can now say that I am a believer.  After living in a Mediterranean climate for the past three winters, our travels into northern Europe have chilled me to my bones.

My roots are deep in New England. Spending my childhood in northern Vermont and coastal Maine, cold weather was a fact of life and I rarely gave it a second thought.  In hindsight it might have helped that I probably never felt completely warm from November through April but whatever the reason, I don't remember feeling cold for extended periods of time during my childhood.  Winters were cold but that was the way they were supposed to be.  If you let the weather stop you from venturing out, you could easily find yourself housebound for months on end. But New Englanders seem to thrive on the cold winter weather.  Although I never participated, I knew many people who jumped right into the icy waters as part of the  polar bear plunges each winter.  Yes, that is how people in the north spend their winter days.  I spent my college and early post college years in Massachusetts, a move "south" where I experienced slightly warmer winter temperatures but cold winter weather none the less.  Much to my co-workers' and husband's chagrin, I spent my first winter living in southern Virginia without donning a winter coat.  While everyone else was bundled up I found the temperatures to be mild and not winter like at all.

Fast forward a few years and we found ourselves living in Albania where winter days alternated between cool and damp and warm and sunny.  On all but a handful of days going outside required little more than a sweater or a light jacket.  A "cold" day might necessitate adding a scarf and heavier coat in the morning but by noon neither was necessary.  (Albanians, however, always bundled up throughout the year, claiming that it was cold and fearing the inevitable "breeze" that would make them ill).  For this New England girl, Albanian winters were anything but cold and no matter how many I experienced, they just never felt like winter to me.  During two separate winters, wanting to experience true winter weather we made forays to both Slovenia and Bavaria only to be met with warmer weather than we had back home in Tirana.  So much for winter weather!

But we left Albania last week headed in a circuitous route for Belgium and I don't think my body has been warm since takeoff. First, we flew from Tirana to Sweden which while beautiful in the summer, is dark and cold in January.  Cold as in it hurt us to breathe and see cold.  With temperatures hovering in the single digits I know they were nothing like the polar vortex that struck the United States earlier this month and I doubt that they would have bothered me a few years ago.  But now, they were too much to bear.  Despite his triple layer LL Bean winter coat, my poor son took hours of shivering and a hot bath to fully warm up after we dragged him out to dinner one night.  Germany wasn't much better; in fact, it felt even worse.  First it was windy. Then the dry cold shocked our systems and had us spending our days hunkering down in the hotel rather than exploring Hamburg. (Now lots of relaxation and down time wasn't a bad thing but it just wasn't how I had envisioned our spending our German vacation time).  Room service took the place of wandering the streets in search of local dining options and steamy showers did little to take the chill out of my body.  We felt as though our hotel rooms never got warm enough but at least the down duvets that are standard issue in hotels in this part of the world mostly did their job.

So today we are heading to our next stop and will be one step closer to Belgium. People have warned us that Belgium is cool and damp year around but never cold. I hope that is true since this New England girl has lost her thick blood.