French speaking neighbors in Spanish-speaking towns

Two nights ago, I had the chance to do more of what I do at bus stations: people watch and make up stories on their comings and goings as a way to reflect and pass the time. I encountered a young man and woman whose language and accents sounded francophone West African to me.  Given their walk down the bus aisle and the French spoken numerals they mentioned as they reviewed the seat numbers at eye Read more…

Volcanos and river rapids in Pucon, Chile

I climbed a volcano spotted with snow fields, sat on a plastic dish and sled all the way down to the bottom in one morning.  I was back in town by lunchtime.  It felt like a full day to be sure and it offered up a chance to revisit a skill base that I used to have — climbing and mountaineering.  I was always a rookie at this skill set and even more so with Read more…

Begging before the overnight bus to Pucon

My worst night’s sleep was on an overnight train from Delhi to Varanasi three years ago.  I rested my head in a coffin-shaped cot at the top of a three-person bunkbed in a semi-private room with eight people in total (three opposite our trio and another two perpendicular to us), plus train passenger traffic passing through the room regularly at all hours.  There was a man selling samosas on the hour through the night, calling Read more…

Cobbled streets and staircases in Valparaiso

It was only day two and I lost my debit card. But it was a funny situation that involved  a crazy British driver, a two-day pilgrimage that closed a major highway, and a wine tasting that needed our prompt arrival by 10:30 in the morning.  So, no debit card and a volume of funny moments that ensued made day two fabulous anyway. We were on our way to wander the winding staircases and cobbled streets of Read more…

Grounded in Santiago

My first day on any trip usually has a few tactical moments that come with the territory: getting geographically oriented without looking like the new girl on the block; familiarizing myself with the subway; gaining a sense of timing (e.g. does Chile follow Argentina’s rule book for the 10 P.M. dinner hour?); suiting up with the right attire for the unseasonably warm day ahead of me.  I’ve already noted that I may never wear that Read more…

an awakening in the women’s restroom in tocumen airport, panama

  Waiting on line in the women’s restroom of Tocumen Airport in Panama City is the reminder I need of this globe’s diverse spectrum of feminine beauty and bodies.  The faux eyelashed woman of color with the brazen red-tinted dark hair washing her ashy hands.  The teenage Latina with stonewashed jeans that remind me of growing up in the 1980s in the U.S.  The middle-aged woman unabashed about her gray roots and jet black ends, Read more…

a road trip in namibia

Traveling in the backseat of a white pickup truck across the Namibian desert with my cousin and her family was one of the marquee travel moments in my repertoire.  This was new terrain for all of us and a new moment to deepen our familial connection and our friendship, which spans decades thanks to the proximity of our ages and geography growing up. I am writing this reflection in retrospect a year later, so my Read more…

a wedding south of toulouse

Chateau de Fajac le Relenque, south of Toulouse. The view from our chateau. Unkept wild flowers of varying heights adorned the chairs on the ends of each row of the ceremony space, while an antique bicycle held the sign for where cocktails and dinner had taken place the night before.  The view from here consisted of white upholstered lawn chairs, hay bales with napkins for sitting, and a horizon of gold, brown and green fields Read more…

Paris, mon cherie

Empty chairs in the Tuileries gardens. I always knew my grandmother, Grammy, was a lady, but I had not realized the depth of her elegance until I spent two days in Paris. My mother always talked about how her parents regularly visited Paris several times a year and over several years.  Grammy and Grandpa had their regular spots to visit, and their go-to hotel, the George V, which is just south of the Arc de Read more…

a pink city in jaipur and copper bowls in delhi

Palace of the Winds in Jaipur. Confession: I am writing this blog having already returned to the U.S. following my last 72 hours in India.  Those hours included a two-day stopover in Jaipur, otherwise know as “the Pink City” for its characteristic terra cotta buildings, and a brief landing in our original Delhi.  Enough time for a thorough wander of Jaipur’s Palace of the Winds, and endless markets in the Hawa Mahal.  Enough time for Read more…