When it comes to museums, I am spoiled. Some of my favorite haunts are not necessarily big-gunners like The Louvre or the Met, but I’ll visit the Mauritshuis in the Hague, the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan, or the Art Institute of Chicago over and over again. So, on a recent trip to Los Angeles, the idea of spending some leisure hours at the Getty Center Museum was more than welcome.
I have been to California a few times – San Francisco, Napa, lots of wine country gallivanting and Bay Area exploring. But visiting Los Angeles always seemed, to be honest, a little daunting.
Recently, I took a trip with my husband out to west Texas. He is from San Angelo, which is a “big city” in that part of the state, but we found ourselves farther west than even that. Seven hours west of Houston, three hours west of Austin, is the tiny, one-horse town of Rowena. A town with two gathering places: one a VFW hall and the other, Lord knows what. All the same, two facilities for any kind of celebration or meeting the little town might have, which was confusing to me. Surely, there was no reason for two halls – not in a town this size.
What comes to mind when one hears the words, “Scottish Highlands?” Probably a romanticized version of brave men in tartans and green hills and craggy rocks, perhaps one hears bagpipes playing. It’s a pretty picture. But though the Highlands are romantic and green and craggy … they are also cold, wet, and terribly out of the way.
First of all, when did I become the kind of person who follows sheep-like the bumbling visitors on a tour around a city? Well, when I first went to Mexico, I suppose. The taco truck tour was epic and worth every penny and mouthful. And then, of course, wine tours are lovely, because … wine. And the last time we traveled to New Orleans, the historical ghost tour was informative and interesting and just the right amount of creepy (and the tour guide stopped often so that we could refresh our libations). And so, a food tour on another return visit to NOLA seemed like a good idea. It had received high marks online; my husband and I supposed we could try food from restaurants we hadn’t gotten around to yet, and learn a little more about the culinary culture of Crescent City at the same time.
It’s good to have friends. Well-connected friends? Even better!
Most people will tell you that the gem of Italy’s Amalfi Coast is Positano. I disagree – first, because I like to be difficult, and second, because I genuinely think that there are far too many sandal-making boutiques, tourist restaurants, and people there wearing socks with their sandals. I prefer the city of Amalfi itself, which still has unspoiled areas. But, today’s tale is set in Positano, amidst the lush, purple vibrancy of bougainvillea and bright white and pale yellow buildings that dot the terraced city.
In the Spanish language, and in most romance languages actually, the activity of going to the beach is not referred to as “going swimming,” even if you plan to get into the water. Rather, they call it bathing. When on a beach in Spain, it can sometimes be a tad disconcerting when a local asks if you’re going to “take a bath,” because for Americans, that obviously has a different meaning, and we draw a pretty hard line between the two.
So, Yelapa … it’s a small fishing village located a very uncomfortable, 45-55-minute boat ride from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. I wish I could tell you what hides within its jungles, behind the trees. I wish I could tell you about the beautiful waterfall that waits patiently for intrepid travelers to discover it. I even wish I could explain the joy and relaxation that come from reclining on a chair, just soaking in the sun and the endless, turquoise and sapphire blue waters of the Pacific Ocean as the waves lazily and rhythmically lap the white sand of the beach at Yelapa.
Having grown up in Flint, it has always been easy for me to take Chicago for granted. Next to Detroit, Chicago was the nearest “big city,” so it didn’t seem like anything very special or exciting. I accepted it as indeed large, and home to many worthwhile museums and attractions; but then, I cast my sights farther afield.
There’s a side to vacationing that isn’t all that much fun. Or relaxing. There are aspects of planning a trip that are frustrating, stressful, and sometimes, downright infuriating. They include picking the vacation spot, and coordinating the transportation.
