On the Road Again...Sumertime Vacation Travel

I love to travel!  Whether it’s across the state, across the country or to another part of the world, I love to GO.

I suppose I come by this wanderlust quite naturally.  I grew up in a home where each year my travel-loving mother meticulously planned our family vacations months in advance of the actual departure date.  The build-up was so intense that by the time we loaded the car and pulled out of the driveway, I could hardly contain my excitement.  Growing up, summer meant hitting the road with family and a AAA road map as soon as the school doors closed.

Travel still excites me.  And when it comes to vacations, I’m like a child.  I love to see new sites, to visit places and to meet people.  I’m like a sponge – I want to absorb and to understand the differences and similarities I share with those who live in the places I visit.  The food, the language.  The landscape, the architecture and the local flavor.  The sights, sounds and attitudes.  I enjoy observing how people from other parts of the country or world live, knowing that while we have many differences, we watch the same sun rise and set.

 Last summer I traveled through Europe, seeing sights I’d only read about or heard described on The Travel Channel.  The magnificent architecture and works of art crafted by nameless people hundreds of years ago took my breath away.  I was visiting places where world history had been made – London, the English Channel, Belgium, Germany, France, Switzerland and the Alps, Austria and my favorite, Italy.

This year I will spend time enjoying the water and varied outdoor activities found at Lake of the Ozarks.  Fresh air, sunshine, shady woods, swimming.  Beautiful sunsets, laughter shared and memories made with family and friends.

Then I’ll travel to Middle Tennessee to attend my brother’s wedding on the front porch of a tiny restored log cabin on the family farm.  He and I are the seventh generation of our family to share ownership of this tranquil and beautiful slice of rural paradise.  There’ll be lots of hugs, laughter and great food.

Finally, my daughter and I will travel with friend Stephanie and her daughter to New York City.  Our girls have grown up together, and at ages 20 and 21, are on the threshold of careers and their adult lives.  The four of us have traveled together several times, but this may be our last chance to do so before the girls move on with their lives.  We’ll giggle, put miles on our athletic shoes, take hundreds of photos and probably shed a few tears.

We’ll visit the usual tourist places like the Empire State Building, Coney Island and Broadway, but we’ll also make a somber visit to the memorial built on the site of The World Trade Center.

So this summer I’ll soak up the travel memories like a new sponge in water.  I’ll cherish the special moments spent with family and friends.  Whether your travel plans include a cross-country adventure or a jaunt across town, I wish you safe travels and many memorable moments.  As the words to a song from the 1970s stated, “We may never pass this way again.”

Road Trip!

My husband and I love road trips and this summer we took our longest one, yet.  We packed our suitcases, water bottles, and hiking boots and pointed the car West.  Our destination was Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons.  Some of our family and friends thought we were crazy.

 "You're going to drive there?

"Do you know how long that takes in a car?
"You do realize they have airplanes that go to Jackson Hole, right?"

It's hard to explain the joys of a car trip to the uninitiated.  But Darrell and I love the adventure of driving.  We spend hours talking about politics, religion, and what color to paint the living room.  We stop at any tourist trap that catches our eye.  And believe me there are plenty of them on the way out West. 

We stock up on corn nuts and Dr. Pepper and eat at Mom and Pop hamburger joints.  And best of all we get a real feel for the variety and vastness of America.  And let me tell you that the United States is big.  Really, really big.

Upon our arrival at Yellowstone we were blessed to be joined by dear friends.  Sadly, due to their tight schedules they had to fly out and missed the fun of a road trip.  But we all enjoyed the beauty and majesty of Yellowstone. 

 

I stared in wonder at the steaming Yellowstone Caldera.  Geysers spouted and mud pots blurped.  Mineral hot springs glistened blue, green, and orange.  An old hymn kept echoing through my mind...

          

        

  "Oh Lord my God,

   When I in awesome wonder
   consider all the worlds thy hands have made..."

We hiked through beautiful canyons and watched a moose grazing calmly in a mountain stream.  We even walked the 300 steps down to the lower falls of Yellowstone Canyon and 300 steps back UP.  I had the good fortune to be walking on steel steps that were anchored into walls of granite.  I learned that 100 years earlier tourists had been lowered by a series of ropes and ladders to the base of the canyon.  Then they climbed back out.  The women had done this wearing long dresses and petticoats.

Those first intrepid tourists came to Yellowstone via train as far as the rails would carry them.  They traveled the rest of the way by stagecoach or wagon.  No air conditioning, no CD player, and no McDonalds for bathroom breaks.

We stayed in lovely hotels with sparkling clean bathrooms.  They camped in tents and uhm, well, you can guess about the bathrooms.  Although I'm not sure how they managed that and the petticoats.

The incredible beauty of Yellowstone and the Tetons has been calling to humans for centuries.  Native Americans consider the place to be Holy ground.  Of course, they are right.  Nowhere else on earth has such a variety of geological and thermal features condensed into a relatively small area.  It is a homage to the magnificent work of our Creator.

 

It was a road trip well worth taking.  I enjoyed every one of the 3,921 miles of our trip   As a matter of fact I'm busy planning our next adventure.  This time we are heading North!

I Left My Heart in . . . Burano

Is it possible to fall in love with a place? If so, I found my Nirvana -- and left my heart there.

I wasn't looking for this place. In fact, I'd never heard of it until I found myself on the way to visit it. The object of my affections is Burano, Italy, a tiny island considered to be a part of Venice.

Earlier this year, I traveled with my family to Europe. My head was swimming with historical facts and dates, beautiful Baroque and Gothic architecture, and a variety of foreign languages -- none of which I understood. I was still marveling at the beauty of all things old in Venice when I boarded a water taxi (small wooden boat) for dinner. The destination, I was told, was about 30 minutes away on the island of Burano.

If you've never been to Venice, it's like no other place. Venice is a series of islands surrounded by water flowing into the Adriatic Sea. The major transportation methods include boats, bicycles and your own feet. Canals and waterways are everywhere. It's a place where buildings and houses aren't torn down to make way for new and modern. Building are repurposed -- again and again. Some date back to the 1400s and 1500s. Seriously old compared to the United States' examples of "old."

The first thing I noticed as we approached the tiny land mass ahead was a tall, leaning tower. Next I noticed color -- lots of bright splashes of color. As we got closer, I saw that the brilliant colors were the exteriors of houses and low buildings. And the leaning tower was part of a church.

There was no busy harbor here with boats and gondolas crossing paths -- just simple docks with wooden fishing boats.

Finally, and most notably, was the QUIET. No motors, no honking horns, no big-city sounds -- just a gentle wind blowing through the trees, children laughing and conversational voices. Pure, absolute bliss!

We stepped off the water taxi and started walking. It's possible to walk from one side of the island to the other in less than an hour, we were told. Approximately 400 people call this tiny island "home," and it is known for two things -- fishing and hand-made lace.

And upon closer inspection, we saw that the lone tower is indeed leaning. After standing tall for about 1,000 years, age is catching up with the tower and gravity is slowly bringing it down. But there are no plans -- or money -- to fix it, we were told. So what happens, happens. How laid-back is that attitude?

For several hundred years, Burano has been home to a small school dedicated to teaching the art of making lace with a needle and thread. The craft is called needlelace, needlepoint, or punto in aria in Italian. The process is painstakingly slow, but the results are richly detailed works of art. An early 20th-century poster for the Burano Lace School shows a light, airy room filled with white-aproned young women sitting in rows as they work on their lace-making skills. Genuine Burano lace always carries a long thin ribbon with the brand name on it.

Hand-made Burano lace has been worn by European royalty for generations. Take a look at portraits of European royals painted hundreds of years ago. Chances are you'll see large lace panels on sleeve cuffs and around the necks of both men and women. That's Burano-made lace.

Walking through Burano is like stepping back in time. Windlows and doors are open, allowing gentle breezes to blow through. No screens. No locks. People sit outside their tiny two- and three-story homes talking with one another or just watching the world go by.

I passed an elderly women sitting outside her open front door. In her lap was an intricate mass of white threads and a needle. She had no pattern, no instructions, but she was creating a detailed lace panel. I don't know how she knew which threads to move and in what order, but the result was amazing. I enjoy doing needlework, but there's no way I'd ever have the patience to try my hand at making lace!

The use of bold color on the houses and buildings gives the village the feel of a storybook world, a make-believe city. No two adjoining buildings are painted the same color. The mix is random, but pleasing to the eye.

Burano has some modern conveniences. It has electricity, a few market shops and several eating establishments. But the delivery of supplies is done without the benefit of trucks or forklifts. Delivery personnel use simple two-wheel carts and their backs to get goods and services through the narrow walkways and to their customers.

We passed several groups of barefoot children fishing in the island's small canals. They had no adult supervision, and yet they weren't rowdy or destructive. They talked. They giggled. They were --kids. The scene was a lot different from what I saw on a recent visit to our local mall in the U.S.

We ate dinner at a small cafe with just a few tables -- and the food was fabulous! The specialities? Fish. Those of us who enjoy seafood and fresh fish (I do) found plenty to choose from. All had been caught locally. My favorite was a cooked fish pate unlike anything I'd ever eaten. Wish I could enjoy some tonight!

A gorgeous sunset colored the sky with shades of pink and orange. All too soon it was time to board another water taxi and head to our hotel. As we left the dock, I found myself thinking about how relaxing it would be to live in such a place. No bright flashing lights. No cars. No rudeness. Just water, warm breezes, and peace.

How long would I last in Burano? Would I get bored and long for the conveniences of home? Could I live without a car or cell phone? Who knows? It might be difficult, but I'd like to give it a try. Maybe I'll travel back there some day.