Tag: solo travel

🇪🇸 Historic Saint Augustine

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I traveled to St. Augustine in March of 2025. I have wanted to go to one of the most historic cities in the United States for the last decade or so. I tried last year but as with most winter/spring plans involving an RV, St. Augustine was fully booked.  This time I was well prepared in advance and booked 9 months in advance. St. Augustine did not disappoint. 

I grew up in Wilmington, Delaware and most of my historic lens is built around the thirteen original colonies, the Mayflower and Delaware being the first state (Dover is closer to Philadelphia than Harrisburg; so Cesar Rodney arrived first to sign the Declaration of Independence). Florida and the history of the Americas has never really been in my knowledge base. It’s quite surprising to realize that St. Augustine is the oldest European inhabited city in the United States and that it wasn’t part of the United States until 1819. In fact, it was occupied for 300 years before it became part of the United States.  

In front of the Castillo de San Marco

Ponce de Leon ventured onto what he thought was an island in 1513. He aptly named the island “La Florida” which means the place of flowers and claimed it for the Spanish crown. It was founded in 1565 by Menendez de Aviles. In contrast, the Mayflower sails to the United States in 1620.  The Spanish were here a century before the English. In St. Augustine most of the oldest homes in the United States are here as well as the oldest wooden school house which was built in 1702 and it still exists on St. George St. in the heart of old town St. Augustine.

Castillo de San Marcos was originally built by the Spanish in 1695 and is the oldest masonry fortification in the United States. A wooden fort was built after Sir Francis Drake attached St. Augustine in 1565. The masonry fort was built after an English privateer Robert Searles attacked and destroyed much of St. Augustine and the existing wooden fort. Most of the fortress was completed in 1672.  The Spanish Crown wanted to protect the shipping routes from Central and South America. Touring the fort is easy and it’s located right next to the water in central St. Augustine. It’s complete with a moat and drawbridge. It’s an unusual shape with pointed corners so that any intruder can be fired upon. The mortar is made from coquina or seashells which makes it extremely impregnable. The fortress itself was never breached or taken by force and was only exchanged through treaty or agreement. 

The Spanish held the fort from 1565 until 1763 when the British took over the fort in exchange for the British giving up control of occupied Havana. When this happened, many freedmen left for Cuba since they could not be assured of their rights under the English. In 1783, the Treaty of Paris ceded Florida back to Spain in recognition for their efforts on behalf of the American colonies during the Revolutionary War. Florida and the fort came under American rule when Spain ceded Florida in the 1819 Adams-Onis Treaty.  Quite the amazing history for an impenetrable fort. 

I was able to tour Flagler College which is on the site of the Hotel Ponce de Leon which was built by Standard Oil co-founder Henry Flagler.  It was built between 1885-1887 and it’s a terrific example of the Spanish Colonial Revival style. There are hundreds of homages to Spain inside and outside the hotel with the coats of armor for many Spanish cities. It has an incredible collection of Tiffany windows and many nautical themes throughout what once was a hotel that was only open for four months of the year for wealthy snow birds. It really is stepping back in time to tour the inside of the buildings which now house students for Flagler College.

Right across the street is the Lightner Museum of St. Augustine which is on the location for Flagler’s Hotel Alcazar. There is now a cafe in what once was an indoor pool.  I had lunch in the Cafe Alcazar and it’s wild to see pictures of this pool full of water and folks diving off of what is now a terrace. The museum if full of photos of the hotel from the late 1800’s. 

I was surprised by the beautiful architecture, the swaying palm tree lined avenues, the tiny shops in the historic district, and the mighty fortress that still sits perched on the Matanzas (which mean massacre in Spanish) River. Here the many folks that called this home and then had to either voluntarily or involuntarily move on as one ruler came on and another exited. So much history in an idyllic town which at one point was the north end of the entire Spanish kingdom. 

😳 Do It Scared: Overseas

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I just got back from an eight city, seven-week escapade to Southern Europe. I’m moderately fluent in Spanish but besides that and a structured tour in Rome, I was on my own with my carry-on bag, backpack and my single pair of sneakers. The genesis of the trip was wanting to be in Rome on Christmas. Once I started booking things, it ended up that I was in Athens for Christmas and on a “Road Scholar” tour of Rome the week before. After talking to my world traveling friend Janine, I decided that Lisbon was the best place to start my trip as I recovered from jet lag. So, there it started, Lisbon, Rome, Athens and then on to Venice, Florence, Seville, Tenerife and finally Madrid. My route was set. Leading up to my departure, I started getting pangs in my stomach and started to wonder if I had an appendicitis or a burst gall bladder. I started to get nervous that I would land in Lisbon and then get rushed to a hospital.  It was all for naught. I think it was just like getting nervous before a speech or running a marathon; it was all in my head. I decided it was psychosomatic and pushed through anyway.  I’m so glad I did. 

Doing it scared at the Acropolis

Here are the ways I did it scared:

Carry on only. I had to pack light.  I had a trip a few weeks before to Seattle after my mother passed away and it was a test trip for packing extremely light.  One pair (yes ONE) of shoes, three pairs of pants, one rain jacket, one puffy jacket with hood and 6 long sleeve shirts, 1 t-shirt and 10 pairs of underwear. I had booked apartments with washers except for the hotel in Rome. I purchased a carry-on suitcase that is both the lightest and fits in all European airlines and had two sturdy wheels (no spinners) so that I could drag it for miles on cobblestone streets. I always purchased early boarding so that I wouldn’t have issues with getting my bag on board. I have heard enough nightmare stories of lost luggage that I wanted to make sure I had what I needed once I got my feet on the ground. I could easily pick up my bag and put it in the overhead bin and my backpack was a lower profile so it could easily fit in under the seat in front of me. One snafu to carry on is that many of the airports I traveled to had a bus to the airplane which meant maneuvering the bags on the bus and up a set of stairs to the plane. All of this gave the assurance that I wouldn’t be stuck without my luggage.

Embrace the unknown. Each time I was going from one city to the next city I almost always ran into a cab or public transit dropping me off some half mile from my destination due to pedestrian only streets. I had not factored this in the first time it happened in Lisbon. By the time I got to Athens, I would set up the directions to the apartment by getting the walking directions from the airport in my map app. That way, when the cab dropped me off, I would start following the directions of my phone/watch. There were still snafus like the closed park in Venice that I had to circumnavigate and the sheer confusion of massive amounts of shoppers in Athens. I was always my most vulnerable when I had my luggage with me and just finding a space off to the side of a major thoroughfare full of people to get my bearings was intimidating. There is also the fact that elevators start on level 0. I went up and down elevators several times looking for what I though was the second floor on floor 1 instead of going all the way to floor 2. I really had to embrace just being lost and to be OK with circling the block several times to figure out where I was. 

Figure out shopping. My first order of business once I found my apartment was figuring out what I was going to do for breakfast for the next day. I scoped out the coffee situation whether it was a Moka, electric kettle, Nespresso or Dolce Gusto machine. Off to the nearest Carrefour or Conad market I go with empty foldable backpack in hand. Most markets in Europe have self-checkout which is always interesting in a foreign language although sometimes you can select the British flag to get English. I never found oatmeal (Avena) until I arrived in Spain. In Portugal, Italy and Greece, I ended up buying Muesli (like granola) and milk. Fruits and vegetables almost always have a self-service station to weigh it.  You can imagine how intimidating finding a fruit or vegetable is on a foreign scale system. I’m not sure I was accurate but I survived getting a scanner code and was able to check out.  In addition, you scan or pay for each bag you use. I know some states have adopted this but taking along an empty backpack was handy. Every market payment system in Europe had a tap option so I didn’t have to figure out using what little Euros I had. Each time it was a new adventure. When I try to eat mostly vegetarian google translates by taking a picture of a product and was invaluable.

Travel on foot if possible. I ended up walking at least 5 miles a day during my travels. I never wore a headset. I try to be absolutely present and pay attention to the sounds and sights. It’s similar to walking a trail, I have to pay attention to each foot fall especially on narrow cobblestone streets. If something was wet, I’d walk slower. In retrospect the only place I saw folks with walkers and wheelchairs was in Madrid.  The rest of the cities I traveled to had stairs, cobblestones and rarely an elevator. Complete handrails (from top to bottom of a set of stairs) was a rarity. When I solo travel, I really slow down and carefully move forward. I also got to experience each city from the graffiti to the smells of roasting chestnuts to the sound of church bells. Each time I was in a precarious situation I would think about how it could be worse, like climbing up to the Acropolis, well at least it’s not raining and it’s only 60 degrees. Amongst the throngs the week before Christmas at the base of the Spanish Steps in Rome, I thought, at least I’m not shopping or trying to get a cab. Being on foot makes me be present and appreciate each moment.

Each time I plan my travel adventures; it feels like some long-lost dream until it’s behind me. I put a plan together and hope it all works out and figure if it doesn’t, I’ll just stay home. Fear is a fickle thing cropping up at inopportune times and I try to remember to bring curiosity and optimism. Mostly, I’m just grateful to have the opportunity to work remotely, see the world and do it scared.

🤪 Mad about Madrid

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It’s ironic that the abbreviation for Madrid is Mad. Mad is the airport call letters and it’s used in the name of lots of things like restaurant names, “Mad Grill”, “Mad Mad Vegan”, and “Mad Cafe”. In American English, you wouldn’t normally call something mad but in British English it has a primary connotation to be crazy about something. Well, I decided that I’m mad about Madrid. Madrid was in the unfortunate position of being the last stop on my 8 city European tour in the winter of 2024-2025. I didn’t arrive with high expectations.  I had just been seduced by Seville with its flamenco, oranges and history. I had previously been to Barcelona and stayed in the romantic, intriguing Gothic Quarter. I really expected it to be like a Spanish New York City with tapas. Yes, it’s more cosmopolitan than Barcelona or Seville but it’s not the concrete jungle with canyons of tall buildings like New York City.

Taking a cooking class in Madrid and showing that the paella is ready because it is adhered to the pan.

This is why I’m mad about Madrid:

There will be art. I was able to go to three art museums while I was in Madrid and they were all less than a mile walking distance from my apartment. Museo del Prado is the main Spanish national art museum. It has art dating back to the 12th century with works from Goya, Bosch, Rubens, Titian, Velazquez and El Greco. There are countless paintings of the crucifixion of Christ and it’s remarkable to see the interpretation of various artists on this one subject. The Prado is an emotional experience with its mostly dark themes from either the crucifixion to enormous 40-foot paintings of battles and executions. You can also see the advancement of art through the centuries from painting on wood to frescos to canvases with immaculate perspective. I also went to the Museo Reina Sofia which is on the other end of the perspective from the Prado with all its works being from the 20th century.  It’s surprising to be in a museum in Madrid and to see painting from Hopper, Pollack and Wyeth. This is alongside an extensive collection of Picasso, Dali and Mora.  There was a temporary exhibit by Portuguese artist, Grada Kilomba in which she uses words and music in video or dancers representing her words.  It was quite unique. The Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza is another great museum in Madrid which fills the gap between the medieval Prado and the very modern Sofia. The Thyssen has many of the classic impressionists like Monet, Degas and Renoir which are some of my favorites so I really enjoyed it. Madrid has art for every taste.

There will be food. Madrid is a food lovers Mecca with everything from tapas to brunch to Michelin star restaurants. I was really glad I signed up for a tapas and paella class for the first day I arrived. There were only five of us in the class and the other four folks were from Mexico. When the instructor realized I spoke Spanish, she decided to teach the class in Spanish which was a confidence builder for me. I learned some amazing tricks like grating Roma tomatoes instead of chopping which seems crazy but the method effortlessly eliminates the skin of the tomato. We also cleaned cuttlefish which was something new for me. I really appreciate that was very hands on, similar to a class I took with my college roommates (Those Girls and the Blonde) in Paris some ten years ago. I have also found that throughout Spain if the name of the restaurant is in English then the restaurant is an easy place for English speakers like myself to go as the entire experience from greeting to menu is in English.  I also found that most restaurants serve tapas and that the portions are enormous. I received a plate of blistered peppers that were simple yet delicious and that alone could have been a meal. I did not venture into any fine dining places as most places don’t open until 7 PM and I’m not a big fan of walking at. Night. There were also tons of butcher shops and produce stands throughout the city. Grocery stores are amazing places throughout Europe. I would walk up to a Carrefour market and it would look like a simple convenience store until you walk inside the labyrinth which is almost always at least two floors with an elevator. I found that sparkling water is almost always at the far end of the second floor much like milk is always in the back row of Safeway. In Madrid, there are always full Jamons (legs of cured ham) hanging in the store where families will have one parked on a kitchen counter to take a slice whenever needed. There were also plenty of vegan restaurants to choose from as well. I really enjoyed eating my way through Madrid.

There will be walkways and parks. In a city the size of Madrid, I did not expect to see so many pedestrian walkways and parks. I have to say that even if there are cars on the road, the minute you step within a foot a crosswalk, the vehicle stops in its tracks. I found this to be amazing. I also took an amazing tour of Toledo (the cathedral is the second largest in Spain after Seville and is simply breathtaking) and the bus picked us up two stories below the Royal Palace. We then drove some ten miles underground (similar to Boston’s downtown). I didn’t realize until that moment but you don’t see large trucks or many cars in downtown Madrid. If there are vehicles, they are only taxis and delivery vans. This makes walking around very easy. In addition, they have a metro system as well, although I didn’t need it since everything for me was in walking distance. There are also enormous parks throughout the city with countless statues venerating various kings and conquerors. One of the main streets by the Sofia and Prado is closed to traffic on Sundays (similar to Central Park in NYC). This makes for terrific space for runners, skaters and sightseers like me. 

I found Madrid to be friendly and inviting. Folks sitting next to me at a table on the Plaza Mayor wished me a pleasant meal (buen provecho), and folks walking down the street would say hello (buenos dias or hola). One funny thing happened at the Thyssen.  The man behind the ticket counter asked if I wanted a discount and I said (in Spanish) well, I’m not a student but I am old. The couple in the next cue laughed and said, “Woman, you’re not old”. Probably the greatest gift in life is making someone laugh in another language. I got the discount by the way:). I am mad about Madrid and hope to return.

🧐Exploring Tenerife

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I have always wanted to travel to Tenerife because my children have relatives that lived there and it was a reprieve from the colder temperatures of Southern Europe. Tenerife is the largest island of the seven Canary Islands which is a Spanish province 62 miles off the coast of Morocco. The indigenous people of the Canaries are called Guanches and have been around for 2 to 3 thousand years.  The Romans were there in 100 BC and countless others came through including the Phoenicians, Greeks, and Carthaginians. In 1402, the Castilian colonized the islands, there was genocide and enslavement of the native Guanches, a dispute with Portugal on this advantageous jumping off point for exploration and finally it was incorporated under the Kingdom of Castile in 1496. The Canaries then became wealthy as they were a major trade stop for Conquistadors on their way to the New World and the riches they brought back with them. Sugar cane was the main crop for many years until the New World could produce it more cheaply.  After sugar cane bananas became the new cash crop of choice. Tenerife in current times has almost 1 million inhabitants and the largest industry is tourism with over 4 million visitors a year. I was one of those tourists for a week and really enjoyed it’s topography, history and friendly people.

Mesa del Mar in Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain

The only way around the island is by car and most rental cars are manual transmission.  I was fortunate that when I booked my car rental that I requested an automatic. This proved to be invaluable when I was descending the ten hairpin turns down the side of the cliff into Mesa del Mar which is where my apartment was for the week. My right foot ached from riding the brake all the way down the roadway and I prayed for no cars (or God forbid, busses) in the opposite direction. Once I arrived at the bottom, I was rewarded with a magnificent vista of crashing waves, an Olympic size natural pool right on the ocean and a black sand beach. It truly was mesmerizing to watch the waves crash relentlessly against black volcanic rocks and it was a view I didn’t tire of for the rest of the week. 

My apartment was in a 12-story tower right on the water with a view of Mount Teide, deep blue rolling waves and black volcanic rock outcroppings off shore. Truly amazing. The price of this view was a drive up and down a cliff in order to get groceries or see other sights of the island. I was on the 5th floor with an elevator that did a little dip when it arrived at each floor which was a bit unnerving. The walkway to the parking lot where my car was, was frequently hit by errant waves. As beautiful as it was it also felt a bit precarious with netting to guard the road from rockslides, ferocious wind gusts and the natural pool being inundated each high tide. The weather was terrific for my entire visit with sun and highs in the low 70’s and lows in the 60’s. 

I drove to the largest town on the island, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, which was about 25 minutes away and visited the Palmetum which is a botanical garden overlooking the ocean. It has an amazing array of palm trees and some pretty views of the ocean. I was really surprised to find Monarch butterflies because they are native to Central and North America. Apparently, they first appeared in the Canaries in 1880. Quite the feat from across the globe. 

I took a tour to Tiede National Park. I had initially thought that I would drive around the island but my cliffside road to my apartment, my ability to constantly take the wrong turn and have to be redirected by my GPS, told me otherwise. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to be in a tour up to Tiede National Park. The road to and from is not for the faint of heart. One of the first stops on the tour was to see a 700-year-old Dragon Tree in the town of Icod de los Vinos. It’s the largest and longest-lived tree of its kind in the world with a trunk that’s wider than its height. It looks like it belongs in a fairy tale with its vine like trunk and brush shaped branches.

The next stop was the town of Garachico. This town was founded in 1496 and was a major port on the island until a volcanic eruption in 1706 wiped out most of the town. This caused the port to be closed and operations moved to Santa Cruz de Tenerife. Throughout the western side of the island of Tenerife is evidence of all the volcanic activity on Tenerife with black sand beaches and long dormant lava flows. From Garachico, we headed inland to the small town of Masca. It’s a tiny town with 90 inhabitants at 2,000 feet above sea level that our guide told us was comparable to Machu Picchu. The view from town was magnificent with the sharp drop offs and views of the Atlantic Ocean out in the distance. 

We left Masca on what our guide referred to as “Ah Ya Ya” road. Being in a full-size tour bus on a narrow winding road with what felt like hundreds of tourists in rental cars seems like a recipe for disaster. There were times the driver motioned drivers to back up, uphill some 100 yards, so that we could navigate the hairpin turns and narrow road. We all clapped when we finally arrived in the Tiede National Park. The park itself is basically a Calderon of the volcano which is Mount Tiede. Apparently, it’s a unique volcano in that it’s located on top of a shield volcano and the second tallest (from the base under the ocean) in the world. Only Hawaii’s Mauna Kea is taller. It’s considered an active volcano since it last erupted in 1909. The landscape is truly amazing with large tower like rock formations, colorful striations and only Canarian pine trees that seem to be able to survive the volcanic eruptions. My Spanish seat mate described the pine trees as “Terrorists” because they burn quickly but have an astounding ability to regenerate. I think of the lava flows I saw near Bend Oregon which was desolate in comparison to Tiede National Park with its Canarian Pine groves. At lunch outside of the National Park I was finally able to snap a picture of a canary, throughout my stay on the island I could hear the birds but they were pretty elusive. 

I spent most of my time in Tenerife just staring out the window at the Atlantic Ocean. There were no screens on the windows and no central heat or air conditioning. Just the natural breeze blowing through the apartment and the sound of the ceaseless ocean. It truly was a nice pause with idyllic weather, a tremendous view and a topography that cannot be matched. 

🍊Seville: Oranges, Passion and History

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I arrived in Seville on the afternoon of January 4th which happened to be the Cabalgata de Reyes or the Three Kings Parade.  Three Kings Day is celebrated on January 6th but the parade is scheduled depending on the day of the week.  I had no idea that this was going on until I couldn’t get an Uber from the airport due to incredible price increases.  I decided to find a cab instead and my driver told be about the parade. It’s a long parade that travels in a big loop through the city dropping candy for children and a spectacle for the adults. Had I known the route, I would have attended but I really wanted to get my bearings in a new city. It seems that being lost with luggage in tow is a norm for me at this point, I was dropped off by the cab about a quarter mile from my apartment because, as is the case in a lot of European cities, my apartment was on a pedestrian only street. I have found in my travels that being on a pedestrian street is advantageous in the ease of getting around on foot and they tend to be quieter at night. The main snafu is that it’s easy for me to get disoriented in a narrow alley trying to find the entrance. I did. The location was great. The cost is 15 minutes of figuring things out.

I absolutely love Seville. The weather in January is highs in the 60’s. I was able to walk safely to every sight of interest. The people are very warm and friendly. There are bitter orange trees everywhere. In January, that means that each tree will be full of ripe bitter oranges. I found this to be amazing and unexpected. In fact, there are over 14,000 bitter orange trees throughout the city. The oranges themselves are the property of the government and are harvested by temporary staff annually to make the famous Seville marmalade. So basically, I was walking through a bitter orange orchard for the week I spent in Seville. What’s not to love about that?

One of the magnificent rooms in the Real Alcazar in Seville

I am moderately conversant in Spanish and I found that practically everyone I met locally defaulted to speaking Spanish with me. I really appreciate this as it makes me feel more self-reliant to be able to converse in basic questions like “does this have onion?” or “is it very far?” In the previous weeks I muddled through with the basics of Italian “Grazie” and “Por Favore” and Portuguese “Obrigado”. It was a relief to be able to understand what people were talking about and for locals to be willing to engage with me in my mediocre Spanish. I compare this to a trip I took with my kids to Barcelona where the language is Catalan and practically everyone started speaking to us in English regardless of whether we tried to engage in Spanish (not Catalan). It’s not that they don’t speak Spanish, the locals default to Catalan or English.

There are probably a 100 flamenco shows within the Seville city limits. It is the birthplace of this passionate dance with Moorish and Roman roots. Most of the songs and dance are that of lament; the wailing and intensity sucks you in. I was in the second row crammed into a tiny tableau with maybe 50 seats. The singers, the guitarist and dancers are just feet away. Each performance is loosely planned and the songs and dance are improvised. There was one woman performer who could snap her fingers so delicately and eloquently, I was mesmerized. The clothing, the music, the wail and pain of the singer, and the incredible speed of the guitar; it is not to be missed.

When I traveled to Lisbon the month before I finally understood that Portugal and Spain were under Muslim rule from 711 to 1492. 800 years has an enormous impact on architecture and culture. “Ojala” in Spanish translates to “hopefully” but that root is actually from an Arabic word “Inshalla” or “If God wills.” The name for the main castle in Seville is Real Alcazar.  Alcazar is Arabic for castle and Real means Royal. This place is not to be missed. It was started as a citadel in the 10th century during the Abbasid dynasty. It had palaces (nine in total) added and enlarged over the next 4 centuries by both Arabs and Spaniards under different regimes. The Alcazar represents the melting pot of cultures with extensive tile from floor to ceiling with Moorish arches and floor fountains in many rooms. It’s surrounded by an extensive garden including the omnipresent bitter orange trees. Ferdinand III conquered Seville in 1248 and it was taken over by Castilian monarchs. Seville is about 60 miles from the coast along the Guadalquivir River. Many explorers including Christopher Columbus, Ponce de Leon and Nunez Balboa passed through the Real Alcazar to either bring back the spoils of the journey or ask for sponsorship on the next voyage. This was the hub for all things American. It’s remarkable to stand in a place so steeped in history.

I also visited the Seville Cathedral which is the largest gothic cathedral in the world. It opened as a Catholic Cathedral in 1507 (it originally was a mosque in 1172) and is an example of Gothic, Moorish and Renaissance styles.  There are countless chapels (there are 80 contained in the cathedral) in this enormous church. The stunning feature of the cathedral is the enormous gold altar piece that is called the Retablo Mayor which is the largest altar in the world with thirty-six relief panels depicting scenes from the Old Testament and the lives of saints. It stands 76 feet high is and is breathtaking to behold. 

There are many places to visit in Seville including the Gold Tower, the Plaza de Espana, and the very modern Setas de Seville (which look like giant mushrooms). I most enjoyed just walking the countless pedestrian streets through old historic neighborhoods with empanada shops, tapas bars and plenty of stores selling Flamenco dresses. I also enjoyed a paella class on a rooftop near the Gold Tower. It was mostly a demonstration instead of cooking but it was interesting none the less. 

I could have spent another week or two in Seville it had such a relaxed friendly vibe and I felt like I was immersed in the history of both Spain and the Americas. I know I will return.

🍝Experiencing Florence

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I arrived in Florence on a train from Venice on New Year’s Eve of 2024. The train station is an enormous hub in the center of the city bustling with activity. As I had found previously in Rome and Venice, there were plenty of pedestrian streets to get to my apartment for my stay but navigating the streets with cars, busses and trams was a bit confusing.  It seems every time I arrive in a new destination in Europe, I get disoriented; but I eventually found my apartment. Since I knew that New Year’s Day was a holiday, I was quick to go to the local market and pick up some essentials assuming that they would be closed the next day.  My experience has been that all museums, stores and monuments are closed on holidays but many restaurants are open.  I had booked a few excursions prior to arriving in Florence and was excited to see what the city had to offer.

View of the Duomo from my cooking class in Florence

On New Year’s Day I walked to my pasta making class which was about a half mile from my apartment. It was supposed to rain that day so I was happy that it wasn’t raining when I arrived at the location. My instructor, Simone, took us up to the rooftop kitchen just 500 yards from the magnificent Duomo. I was in a class that had a mother and her two adult daughters from Connecticut.  The four of us learned to make pasta, bruschetta and tiramisu from scratch all while admiring the 360-degree view from the rooftop. It was nice to get my bearings by overlooking the entire city and all its landmark palaces and cathedrals. Even though I’m an accomplished cook, I learned a lot of new tricks like how to get the best of a garlic clove (i.e. never smash, cut the ends off and remove the heart) and the importance of texture and feel as you knead and roll out the pasta dough. I learned that you roll out the dough on semolina flour so it doesn’t stick to the dough while rolling and cooking. I had had a pasta class in Rome and I have to say that my pasta was much better in the class in Florence. I think the difference was rolling out the dough on semolina instead of 00 flour (which we used in Rome). I also found that they use an amazing amount of salt and oil in food like the bruschetta. It was best tasting bruschetta I have ever had although my doctor might be chagrined. I had selected this experience on New Year’s Day because it was one of the few things I could do on the holiday but I have to say that it was a terrific start to the New Year and my stay in Florence. 

The next day, I went to the Uffizi Gallery and the Académie Gallery on a guided tour of both. Unfortunately, it was raining and the group of us stood in the rain for about 45 minutes waiting to get into the Uffizi. I have been so fortunate to have terrific weather in cities like Lisbon and Venice but I feel like standing for an extended period of time made me appreciate the contents of the Uffizi. There are two Botticelli masterpieces that had been commissioned by the Medici family, The birth of Venus which is an enormous painting depicting Venus rising out of a shell and then there is the Primavera which also features Venus and Cupid above shooting arrows. I was most struck by the Leonardo Da Vinci painting of the Annunciation which is when Gabriel tells the Virgin Mary that she is pregnant. I had recently seen a documentary of Da Vinci and most of his masterpieces were never finished so seeing this rare example of his mastery of contour, shading and perspective where wonderful to experience in person. Then there is the painting Tondo Doni by Michelangelo which practically jumps off the wall with its sculpture like appearance. The Uffizi is an enormous gallery and I wish had more time but the tour was continuing on to the Académie Gallery. 

We waited in a similar line for the AcadémieGallery but at least it wasn’t raining anymore. This is the place for the original David by Michelangelo. There is a replica of David that stands near the Palazzo Vecchio which is impressive but seeing David at the Académie being lit from above it all its perfection is breathtaking  They say that Michelangelo personally picked his marble and he believed that the sculpture was already “alive” in the marble.  To see this statue alongside the various incomplete statues was informative. They included his last incomplete statue called Bandini Pietra it’s a marvel that he completed the David as these sculptures took years to finish.

My last full day in Florence was spent going through the Duomo Museum and the Duomo itself.  The Duomo is a massive cathedral in the heart of Florence.  It was conceived in 1293 and it took over 140 years to finish. Filippo Brunelleschi conceived its dome which is the world’s largest masonry dome. The museum for the Duomo has a lot of the exterior doors and sculptures that were originally on the Duomo but now are protected from the elements. It feels like hundreds of artists and sculptors worked on the tile floors, a multitude of artwork and sculptures. The mesmerizing exterior of the Duomo and its tower is made from white and green marble from around Tuscany. It’s the third largest cathedral in the world.  It’s quite something to experience the inside of the dome and the various religious stories represented high above your head.

I made a short side trip across the Ponte Vecchio. The original bridge was built in 996 and it spans the Arno River in the heart of Florence. It’s been swept away several times over the last 1,000 years but its current form is from 1345.  From the Uffizi Gallery you can see that there is a separate enclosed walkway on top of the bridge which the Medici’s built so that they could walk from Palazzo Vecchio to Palazzo Pitti.  There are stores and shops across the entire bridge.  Apparently, they made a decree to ban butcher shops from the bridge (who threw waste into the river) and to only allow goldsmiths and jewelers. 

Florence is a remarkable place steeped in history and the heart of the Early Renaissance art that exploded in Italy in the 15th Century.  The Medici family backed many artists and it feels like they all left their mark here including Pisano, Giotto, Donatello, Da Vinci. Brunelleschi and Michelangelo. It’s remarkable to see so many beautiful buildings, artwork and sculptures throughout the city some 500 years later.  I’m so glad I got to experience it. 

🥰Beguiling Venice

On By Cathy NoiceIn Cathy Noice1 Comment

I traveled to Venice at the end of 2024. I expected it to be interesting but I was beguiled. It is a world apart from anything else I have ever experienced. I arrived by plane and took a shuttle out to the main island of Lido di Venzia. I wasn’t in another vehicle for the rest of my stay. I’ve been to islands where there are no cars, Mackinaw Island in Michigan comes to mind, but there are golf carts and bicycles.  In Venice the only way to get around is by boat or on foot.  After a few days I realized that there is a peace that comes from not having to dodge taxis like I did in Rome. There is a quiet outside of the multitude of travelers dragging their luggage on the cobblestone streets. 

Gondolas in Venice

Here are some the things that made Venice beguiling:

The Republic of Venice. Venice was founded in 687 as a Byzantine Territory and was a republic for over 1,100 years. There was no “Italy” (which was unified in 1861). Venice was ruled by 120 Doges over a 1,000.  Doges were elected by the aristocracy and ruled for life.  Each Doge lived in the Doge’s Palace which is right off St. Mark’s Square along the waterfront (but isn’t most of Venice waterfront?). I toured the palace and was struck by how the Doge lived in the same building as the courts, the parliamentary rooms and the prison. Eventually, they moved the prison across a canal which then created the “Bridge of Sighs” which is where the convicted prisoner would get one last glimpse of the outside world before being imprisoned. Apparently within the Palace and in other spots on the island there are Bocche dei Leone (Mouths of the Lion) where any citizen could slip a piece of paper into the mouth to denounce another citizen for illegal activity. It’s sort of a suggestion box on who to arrest. I found this to be fascinating. 

It’s Swampland. The islands are built on wood pilings from trees in nearby Croatia (which at one point was part of the Republic).  They are buried deep into the clay beneath the water and then topped with stone, brick and mortar. The bricks are made from nearby clay and the bricks themselves are smaller than bricks I’m familiar with in the US. It’s all an engineering marvel although I did get a little freakout when the floor of the Doge’s Palace actually moved. It was like walking on the Golden Gate Bridge, there is some give and flex to the larger buildings in Venice. There is also high tide and low time every six hours so the landscape and docks and boats are constantly rising and falling. The crazy thing is that it’s all very shallow and there are special channels made for the larger boats to go from one island to the next. So, it’s all really just floating. 

The Labyrinth. The main island of Lido di Venzia is one massive labyrinth. If I did not have cell coverage and Google maps, I’m pretty sure I would still be lost down some nameless dark tunnel. As I’ve said, there is no getting around the island except on foot or by boat.  If you are on foot there are at least five canals to traverse to get to any destination. It’s disorienting because most of the streets are sunless alleys and you can’t see any reference points (in NYC I think of the Empire State Building as a reference point).  I rarely knew if I was headed east or west and I know that although I walked to Saint Mark’s Square four different times from my apartment, I never went the same way twice and was lost or off track each time. It was so comforting to see the same cannoli or mask shop to know that at least I had been there before.  I also gave myself lots of time to arrive at a destination because I had to factor in getting lost. Regardless, being lost really makes me be present and pay attention to all available information.

Islands. There are 118 islands that make up Venice.  Some are abandoned and small, some are privately owned and two of the most interesting are Murano and Burano. Murano is where they make handcrafted glass works. I saw a very interesting glass demonstration where a master glassworker made a glass horse in under two minutes. It was amazing to watch this artisan effortlessly create this masterpiece in minutes standing feet away from an 1800 F degree oven that runs 365 days a year. All he used was a big pair of black scissors and snipped, tugged and gently pulled forth a masterpiece.

Burano was a multitude of colorful buildings and a tower that is leaning precariously. Burano is a fishing village and the fisherman painted their houses different bright colors so that they could find their way home (adorable, no?).  There is also the art of making intricate lace works that many of the women of the island are masters at. I saw table cloths that were so intricate it would take two women four months to create. Lace making is a dying art as the lace making school closed down in 1970. There are seven different types of lace styles and most women only knew one or two so it would take several women to complete even a small work of lace depending on the types needed. Truly beautiful works of art. 

I ate on the island of Burano and I had the best risotto of my life there. I found food in all of Italy to be perfectly seasoned and impeccably prepared. Risotto is only creamy if you take time and care to develop the rice over a long period of stirring, the risotto I had was creamy (without cream) and perfectly seasoned. 

I am so fortunate that I was able to visit Venice during beautiful weather.  It was sunny each day and the highs were in the mid 40’s. Every time I went over the enormous Rialto Bridge (which spans the main waterway Grand Canal) the steps were not wet. It’s almost always crowded with tourists (like me) taking photos and stopping on the steps which makes navigating the steps more difficult.  I can’t imagine if they were slick from rain. The fabulous weather also had the added benefit of beautiful pictures. Every corner and turn from the immense St. Mark’s Square to the tiny canals threading ancient buildings is photo worthy. I was absolutely beguiled

🧭Southbound on the Alaska Highway

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The Alaska Highway (or Alcan: Alaska Canada Highway) runs 1,387 miles from Dawson Creek BC to Delta Junction AK.  On my trip from North Carolina to Alaska and back, I took a ferry from Bellingham, WA to Skagway, AK.  I decided on Skagway as my final port on the Alaska Marine Highway (the ferry system) because there was a road that connected to the Alaska Highway. That meant I could return down to mainland United States via the roads.  This part of my trip was by far what I was most apprehensive about before departing Durham, NC. Going solo in a 25-foot RV on some of the most remote roads in North America without a copilot, a spare tire or cell coverage is intimidating. In fact, I got about 3 hours sleep before ascending the Klondike Highway which originates in Skagway and travels up 15 miles with an 11% grade to White Pass. I was so fortunate on the morning when I departed Skagway because it was calm and foggy.  Wind, a high-profile vehicle and shear drop offs are not a good mix for me, so being shrouded in fog and stillness was actually a good thing; out of sight, out of mind.  I hooked up with the Alaska Highway in the tiny town of Carcross originally called Caribou Crossing (population 301).

Part of the Alaska Highway in the Yukon

This is what I found after traveling 855 miles on the Alaska Highway:

Wildlife. The minute I got on the Alaska Highway out of Carcross YT, I saw a moose on the side of the road.  I have waited my whole life to see a live moose (including several trips to Maine) and I was taken aback by the size of her eating along the side of the road. Just outside of Watson Lake YT, there was an entire herd of bison on both sides of the highway.  I would guess upwards of 40 bison eating along the side of the road. I saw a fox, bighorn sheep and caribou as well.  In fact, if you drive the Alaska Highway, I challenge you NOT to see wildlife. I was on high alert for most of the drive because they mark the areas where there may be wildlife present. 

Highway. I would loosely call this a highway.  There was never a section of divided, fully marked, four lane immaculately paved road.  There were sections for upwards of a mile or two where the entire width of the road was gravel due to construction.  I would bet that, especially the roadway in the Yukon (the entire population for the territory is 40,000!) and northern British Columbia, that 40% of the road was unmarked; So, passing vehicles in the opposite direction is a game of trust. I would guess that it’s about 50% trucks and 45% Recreational Vehicles on the road with motorcycles, SUVs or even a brave bicyclist for the last 5%. There were almost always ample gravel shoulders but who wants to drive 55 miles an hour on a gravel shoulder. It’s not like there was much traffic, especially in the Yukon. Canada uses completely different road signs to indicate rough road, wildlife ahead and so on. The funniest one is of a metal bridge which shows the person being rattled. There are also random box trucks left to decay but have an advertisement plastered on its side.  The highways are a unique experience. 

Services.  If I saw a gas station, I filled up.  Sometimes the road would have a warning that there weren’t services for the next 133 KM, sometimes not.  If I saw a gas pump and I still had 3/4 of a tank of gas, I still filled up. When you might see only a handful of vehicles while driving all day, the last thing I wanted was to run out of gas. I saw maybe 4 businesses (i.e. restaurants, gas stations and lodges) that were actually open between Carcross and Watson Lake. I assume that COVID wiped out a lot of the businesses up here but I ended up eating in my RV for the first two days on the Alaska Highway.  I can’t imagine not having at least a tent on this trip as I only saw a handful of lodges on the entire route. There were several businesses that hung a “closed” sign out front and most were dilapidated. I kept thinking, thank god I wasn’t depending on that place to be open.

Metric. Being fully versed in the metric system before driving the Alaska Highway would have been very helpful.  Sure, I’ve been to Europe but I have never driven in Europe.  All the signs are in kilometers which I basically just divided by two even though that is not accurate.  I was fortunate that my speedometer has metric although it’s small print.  The km per hour were constantly changing depending on the condition of the road. In addition, and probably the most startling is when a bridge would put that limit of weight in grams.  I had no idea how many grams my 11,000-pound RV was but I had to assume that the gas tanker I passed an hour ago must have gone on the same bridge.  I was definitely doing it scared. And then there were the gas stations.  I can tell you have absolutely no ideas how much gas I purchased and if I paid $2.00 a gallon or $100 a gallon.  Between liters and the Canadian dollar and the fact that the price was irrelevant if it was the only station for the next 150 miles. The metric system had me flummoxed. 

Views. I was amazed by the sheer beauty that was around each corner.  I was very fortunate that the weather was great on the four days I was traveling on the Alcan. Whether it was glacier lakes, meandering wild rivers, wildlife, miles of aspen and pine trees or the stunning views of long-lost mountains, each turn was a gift. Some rivers were bright turquoise and some were black, some groves of tress were decimated by fires and some were deep green and endless.  It’s a fascinating journey that a good portion of the world never gets to experience. I would think about pulling off on a random side road but since they were all narrow and gravel, I demurred.  The last thing I wanted to do was end up on a dead end and unable to turn around. I think of all the pictures I wanted to take but sometimes I just needed to experience regardless of whether I was able to document it.  

Dawson Creek is the end (or in most cases the beginning) of the Alaska Highway.  It’s definitely where I saw my first McDonalds in several weeks.  There are traffic lights, divided highway, neighborhoods, and the roadway is clearly marked.  All the things I take for granted back home. I am happy to report that my GPS worked for the entire route although I did have the Alcan bible, “Milepost” (a book with every highway and milepost detailed for Alaska and Western Canada). In retrospect, I’m glad I took on the journey with my RV, Abeona, because I’m so much more self-reliant.  I know that so long as I am prepared, calm and focused, I can accomplish almost anything. 

😟Do it Scared

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This has been my mantra for the last two months.  I struck out alone for the west coast to attend my mother’s 90th birthday in my RV, Abeona (goddess of the outward journey), in May of 2024.  I’m not mechanically inclined, I am skittish of heights, not a fan of enclosed places and really like a good night’s sleep. This journey would have been a lot easier by just booking a plane ticket instead of driving some 4,000 miles to celebrate my mother’s landmark birthday.  But instead, I have embraced doing it scared.

Abeona arrived on the Pacific Ocean after a cross country trip

Here are the things I faced doing it scared:

Rain in east Texas.  As I was headed to Rusk Texas (look it up, it’s in the middle of nowhere) there were all kinds of warnings on my map apps that the roads could be flooded.  It was a torrential downpour as I drove on desolate route 84 to my campground and out the next day. I saw whole fields inundated with water, rivers out of their banks but never any water across the road. I figured that the campground would have alerted me that it was underwater (and it wasn’t) but the drive was intimidating because of the unknown. 

Big Bend. Big Bend National Park is in the middle of nowhere on the border between Texas and Mexico.  I drove over a hundred miles without seeing a gas station from Fort Stockton down route 385 which enters the park from the north entrance.  I didn’t see one car as I drove down from the north entrance to the park headquarters.  This is rare for a National Park in May but when it’s 112 degrees outside and no cell coverage;it appeared to not be a popular spot in the Spring. When you are driving an RV by yourself and know there isn’t much of a safety net if you break down; you do it scared.

Boquillas Mexico. When I get nervous, my stomach twists in knots. I had a morning planned to cross the border at the edge of Big Bend NP where there is an official entry point into the United States. I knew that it was possible to take a very short row boat ride across the Rio Grande into the little town of Boquillas. I didn’t sleep well in anticipation of crossing the border and back.  I was imagining something going wrong. It’s hot, dusty, no cell coverage and my Spanish was rusty.  As with most uncertain things, I was looking for things to control.  I texted my kids letting them know that I was crossing the border without cell coverage and that I expected to be back to cell coverage in 3 hours. The town itself, my guide and burro ride into town were a step into a whole other reality with this small-town dependent on brave Americans to take a chance on seeing another way of life. I’m glad I did it scared. 

White Sands National Park. I’ve been to over 30 national parks.  I had been to White Sands as a newlywed with my husband, Orlando, in the mid 80’s.  I do not remember the road, about 3 miles into the dunes loop, ending into what was essentially sand dunes for some 10 miles. This mistake, in that I didn’t have all wheel drive on the RV, was something I’m glad I did in retrospect but had I known, I’m sure I would have skipped. Getting my Abeona stuck in the sand and the rattling of the dual tires in the back was unnerving. I turned around as soon as I could but I can tell you to pay more attention to park maps and advisories now.

Tehachapi Pass. This is an infamous road that skirts Los Angeles through a mountain pass.  I have been over it several times in a car although I probably wasn’t driving.  When driving up from the south there are over 4,500 wind turbines which, immediately alert you to the fact that “there will be wind.” On the day I came up the pass from the south there were signs alerting high profile vehicles.  My campground was on top of the pass.  I went anyway. Gulp.  It felt like hurricane force winds, I was clenching the steering wheel and maintained a 45 mile an hour pace.  I was fortunate that there weren’t may trucks and gratified to see other folks with trailers going over the pass (if they can do it, I can do it). After 4 camping days in Tehachapi, I came down the other side of the pass which is longer, steeper and full of curves (it forced me to learn how to use manual gears).  I kept thinking to myself, Rick Hanson’s “Are you alright right now?” I was.

Glider Ride. When I was camped in Tehachapi, it was right next to a glider plane airport.  After the first two days of watching gliders take off attached to small planes, I decided that, if I don’t do this, I’ll regret it. I had every afternoon free and why not just walk over and get in a glider. I was going to tell my daughter but she was occupied so I just went over and did it.  In retrospect, I think that because I was by myself, I couldn’t be talked out of it.  Perhaps someone else would have discouraged me.  Maybe I thought I had survived the trip thus far, let’s go for broke. I was shocked that all you had to do was pay and that I didn’t sign 5 pages of waivers.  Perhaps it was because I didn’t sign waivers, I decided it was safe.  My pilot Cam was great.  They wheeled the glider into position. There was nothing but manual signals between him and the pilot of the guide plane.  The glider itself was airborne before the guide plane which was freaky.  Did I mention that I was in the front of the glider with all the controls to fly (but didn’t).  When the tow rope releases, we were gliding above the Tehachapi Valley at 6,500 feet.  Outside of the wind and the conversation with Cam, it was silence. It’s incredible that this little plane, that is shorter than my RV can glide through the air without any technology and land safely on the ground.  I’m glad I did it scared.

I find that, traveling alone as a woman over 50, I get a lot of folks opining on my choice. Mostly it’s from women over 50 saying “I could never do that”, “So you are alone? Driving by yourself?” I’m always flummoxed as to what to respond with.  And then?  Then there is Lucky Lu (her license plate).  I was departing Joshua Tree and at a stop light in Yucca Valley when I hear a car honking at me. I turn to the left and see a woman beaming and giving me the thumbs up.  I rolled down my window and she said” You have the toy I want!  I love it!  Are you by yourself?”, I answered yes, and she responds “YOU GO GIRL!”  That moment?  That was worth it all. There is also my co-pilot, my inspiration, my dearly departed father had wanderlust in spades and he would drive 4,000 miles just to see a view.  Daddy is always riding shotgun.

🏖️The Mysterious Driftwood Beach

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I visited Jekyll Island, Georgia this past February and found it to be a mysterious and inspiring place along the Golden Isles of the Georgia barrier islands.  It has quite the history and an incredible Driftwood Beach which should be on everyone’s bucket list.  I was on my maiden voyage with my RV, Abeona, and we were on our way home from Florida. We camped for a week at the campground on the northern end of the island. 

Sunrise at Driftwood Beach, Jekyll Island, Georgia

I didn’t have a tow vehicle or a bike with me on the trip, so being within walking distance of the beach was a high priority (I didn’t want to pack up everything to go see the sunrise). The Jekyll Island Campground is the only campground on the island and I had no idea that it was just a mile from Driftwood Beach when I booked the campsite.  Imagine my surprise when I found that the beach was an easy walk each morning to photograph the sunrise. Serendipity. 

After arriving at my campsite, I decided to venture out to the beach during the daylight so that there wouldn’t be any surprises when I walked to the beach in the morning for sunrise. Arriving at around 4 PM on a Saturday afternoon after the mile walk to Driftwood Beach, I was astonished by how many cars were there and therefore, people on the beach.  This is not an umbrella and beach towel type of beach.  This is a photographer’s (re Instagram) Mecca. It also happened to be high tide. 

Driftwood Beach is a maritime forest that has been slowly overtaken by the sea.  There are hundreds of trees standing, fallen, eroded and sometime petrified, covered in barnacles on the beach. They are all driftwood, just most are full size trees as driftwood. Some stand as sentinels at attention with no branches, others are on their sides with their root structure solidified in an intricate web. Some look like they are trees on stilts with roots that grew long and straight in order to stay above the salt water.  It is mesmerizing to walk along the several hundred yards of what looks like a waste land of gray figures strewn haphazardly along the beach. 

The trees of Driftwood Beach stay on the beach because it’s very shallow for hundreds of yards off shore.  The waves are never high enough to pull them out.  In fact, when I first arrived, I thought I was in a bay because the water was so tranquil. Due to the shallowness, the trees over the last century have stayed where they have fallen. 

Jekyll island is a state owned and maintained island.  This means there aren’t any big resorts or towers along the beach. There were plenty of photographers each sunrise.  This was quite the contrast from when I recently stayed at a North Carolina barrier island of Ocracoke, where I was the sole person on the beach at sunrise.  Each morning at Driftwood Beach there was a minimum of twenty photographers each time I went out. Most with chairs and tripods, patiently waiting for that perfect shot as the sun slipped above the horizon. 

The real key to sunrise on Driftwood Beach is to know where the tide is and whether or not there will be clouds.  Some clouds are magical; when it’s fogged in, not so much.  If the water was high enough there were pools around some of the fallen trees making for a terrific reflection or you could capture the sun “caught” amongst the branches of the trees.  I had a ton of fun wandering up and down the beach looking for the magical combination of sun, tree, waves and cloud.  

It all seems so mysterious.  Like you are walking amongst fallen statues after some catastrophe. Like some civilization left these corpses behind.  The shape, the beauty and the serendipity of light, water and wood was amazing.