Is it April already?

Man. I’d ask where spring went, but looking out my window, there’s no evidence that spring has even taken a peek at Ohio yet. The glaciers that grew to each side of my driveway this winter have shrunk to little mounds about the size of hamsters, but other than that? Gray, rainy, cold. No sweet little pink blossoms in this neighborhood yet.

I spent the last week of March in Las Vegas, which is about as different from Northeastern Ohio (and not just because of the weather) as Bangkok. We mostly speak the same language. That’s about it.

As expected, the sun was shinier than a new quarter and what appeared to be a nicely global sampling of folks stumbled around dressed inappropriately, drinks in hand. Las Vegas casinos are pretty much interchangeable with casinos all around the world, so the sun is irrelevant when you’re playing the slots. Ding-ding-ding! Wheel! Of! Fortune!

Thank you Greg Miller!

Thank you Greg Miller!

That trip was for WORK, folks. Do not assume for one minute that this was a vacation choice for me, okay? Thank you. (Or as Las Vegas Elvis used to say: Thank you. Thank you very much.)

Unfortunately, I’ve spent more time dismantling trips over the last month or two than planning them. No wonder I’m feeling disheartened today, right?

My son’s wedding is cancelled, so I’m not going to Australia next month. I also cancelled my trip to Dayton for the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers Conference this weekend (have fun, you guys!). I won’t go into the details on either account, but I’ll just say this:  it’s much more fun to SCHEDULE a trip than to CANCEL one.

But like Annie, I do believe the sun will come out tomorrow and that I will be inspired to conjure up a new adventure soon. I’d love to meet my buddy Bernadette in Northern Ireland this summer. That’s one idea simmering on the back burner at the moment.

My friend Cindy just got back from a visit to New York City with her daughter, Isabel. Being fans of “Project Runway,” I know they visited Mood. Can’t wait to hear about that trip.

What are you doing in the months ahead? Inspire me!

 

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Heading to the beach?

It is currently 2 degrees fahrenheit (and why don’t keyboards have a little “degree” circle somewhere?) and since the sun is shining, we can expect to reach a balmy 14 later in the day. I know I’m not alone in thinking that a little trip to warmer climes sounds appealing.

I'm thinking of building one of these in the back yard this weekend.

I’m thinking of building one of these in the back yard this weekend.

I know lots of people who love nothing better than a vacation at the beach. Clear blue water, white sand, waving palms. Yeah. That’s the ticket.

If they think celebrities make unfortunate clothing choices, they should get a load of the folks I've seen at Giant Eagle.

If they think celebrities make unfortunate clothing choices, they should get a load of some of the folks I’ve seen at Giant Eagle.

Despite the cold, I never have been one of those people. Admittedly, part of the reason I avoid beaches is that I’d rather ride shotgun with Justin Bieber than appear in public in a bathing suit. Also, I hate sweat. Mine and everyone else’s. And don’t even talk to me about hairy men wearing tank tops. Where are the Fashion Police when we need them?

If unfortunate apparel choices weren’t enough, I just finished watching “The Impossible” the other night. Have you seen it? This movie starring Naomi Watts is based on the true story of a family caught up in the monster tsunami in Thailand a few years back. Watch that and tell me you can’t wait to get to Cancun. I’m just saying.

Scene from "The Impossible." Makes me want to book a package to Sandals. Yeah.

Scene from “The Impossible.” Makes me want to book a package to Sandals. Yeah.

The other problem with warm, sunny places is that spiders, snakes and a host of other creepy crawlies like to call those places home, as well. One thing I’ll say for Ohio, you won’t find any alligators leaping out at you from under a snow drift.

Yes, that's how big those suckers are. That's probably a baby.

Yes, that’s how big those suckers are. That’s probably a baby.

When I was teaching in Melbourne, Australia about 100 years ago, I was introduced to the Huntsman spider. This huge brown, hairy monstrosity can be found not only in the bush (where all creepy crawlies should be confined), but in the city and on one memorable occasion – in my bedroom.

I screamed louder than one of those crank-up warning sirens during the London Blitz. My then-husband was not amused, but then, he is Australian and grew up with disgusting bugs and snakes and things. He even yelled at me for screaming. This is just one reason why I had to divorce him. Not the main reason, but it was wrong on every level to be mean to me when I had been traumatized.

Anyhoo – if you want to head to a tropical beach, go for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you get swept away in a tsunami, bitten by a snake, harassed by a giant spider, have the runs from eating fresh mango sold to you by some sad-looking little kid on the beach, a sunburn that results in having to spend half your vacation week in a darkened room, or even the need to seek counseling after being exposed to the sight of a very white, flabby old European guy wearing a Speedo.

You’ve been warned. Go fix yourself a cup of cocoa and stay safe.

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Making (laugh) tracks to Dayton

Nothing makes me happier than planning a trip. To be honest, I can get pretty cheery thinking about going practically anywhere. But I already know that the trip I’m planning to Dayton, Ohio this spring is certain to rate ding-ding-ding over the top of my personal happy-o-meter.

Whoa, you may say. Dayton? Nothing against this small-ish city surrounded by cornfields near the Indiana border, but . . . .

I'm pretty sure this picture was taken in Dayton. Could be.

I’m pretty sure this picture was taken in Dayton. Could be.

Even though by dear brother and his family have lived in Dayton pretty much forever and it’s always great to see them, I won’t be stopping by their Oakwood home on this particular visit. They will undoubtedly be crushed by the news that I’ll be so near, and yet, inaccessible. So sorry, Bob and Donna.

No, I can’t visit the fam, but am thrilled to report that I snagged one of the coveted spots at the 2014 Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop at the University of Dayton! This workshop is only held every other year and when registration opened on December 4th, it was sold out by midnight. People are comparing it to getting the golden ticket from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. These are the same people who also registered in time. I’m not sure if the general population is equally impressed.

I attended the 2012 conference on a whim. After signing up, I pretty much ignored the clever Facebook posts of the other attendees (we all think we’re funny, and we’re all compulsive writers, so you can just imagine the posts and the tweets and the general excitement that will no doubt build to a feverish pitch by April). I was busy with the work that actually pays my bills and was even a little intimidated by the outpouring of some pretty funny stuff.

Oh, the hilarity!

Oh, the hilarity!

Well, not only did I attend one inspiring – and hilarious – workshop session after another, but I also laughed myself sick listening to keynote speakers like Adriana Trigiani and Gina Barreca and Connie Schultz (to name a few). Members of Erma’s family were there and read excerpts of some of their favorite columns. There was even a night of stand-up comedy where brave attendees could try out their schticks on a supportive audience that wouldn’t boo them off the stage. (Okay, so I went to bed, but I heard some of them were seriously funny.)

Irma

In fact, one workshop session on humor and travel writing presented by Dave Fox got me started with this blog. I wish I could claim to be half as funny and entertaining as Dave, but I have to tell you (anybody reading this?) that I’m having a blast writing here – funny, or not so much.

So I can hardly wait to go back and drink more of the Kool-aid in Dayton this spring. This time I’m paying attention to the Facebook posts and have promised myself I’ll try to figure out how to use Twitter again. I’m looking forward to meeting a bunch of new people as well as looking up a couple of others who have become Facebook friends since the last conference, like Kari Lynn Collins whose blogs are hilarious.

I might have to circle back here to give attendees and others planning trips to Dayton some information about the city. I do know there’s a restaurant not far from the university called the Pine Club that grills up what may be the best big-ass steaks in town. (Hint to Bob for my next family visit.)

In the meantime, hey – Merry Christmas or Season’s Greetings or Happy Festivus or whatever you’re comfortable with! And may the year ahead be a great one for us all!

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I’m a believer

So, I went to York and have to tell you – first and foremost – that this is a wonderful, charming, fascinating destination. LOVED it. York is picturesque, full of things to see and do, and is so easy to navigate, you can comfortably walk every bit of it.

On another note, I have to comment further on my last post referring to York’s reputation as one of the most haunted cities in Europe. I can’t speak for the rest of Europe, but I’m here to tell you that yes, York is haunted. And while I wasn’t adamantly opposed to the possibility before, I’d say I wasn’t inclined to put much store in the notion of ghosts, hauntings, etc.

After my visit to York? Well, let’s just say that now I’m a believer.

While in York I had the pleasure of meeting Patricia Ong, owner of tour guide company York Walking Tours. I should point out that Patricia does not conduct one of the spooky nighttime tours in the city (and there are several to choose from if you go to York and seek activities that will scare your pants off).

Treasurer's House, York

Treasurer’s House, York

But Patricia has been leading tours for a while and knows all the folks who work in places like the Treasurer’s House – which she believes is the most haunted building in York. She shared a number of goose bump-inducing stories that I won’t go into right now.

The tale she told that gave me the shivers was about the man who witnessed the Roman soldiers marching through the basement of the Treasurer’s House in 1953. Read my last post for the story, and/or look it up online. It’s been reported many times over the years.

But here’s the thing:  Patricia knows the man it happened to and has talked with him about it personally. Harry Martindale was just a young apprentice plumber working in the basement on a boiler (or something – see – I’ve already forgotten, sorry) when he heard a trumpet call and witnessed a legion of Roman soldiers appearing from one side of the basement and disappearing into the wall on the opposite side.

He was so frightened, he fell off his ladder, but was too scared to move. The men, and their horses, were in living color and appeared so real to him, he was afraid that if he drew their attention, they might attack him. These were no translucent, ethereal ghosties! No, he could see the sweat and the dirt and hear the sounds of the horses’ hooves.

Fortunately, an authority at Treasurer’s House had the presence of mind to have the traumatized young Harry write down everything he could remember immediately after it happened. A couple of details that caused historians to suggest it was his imagination rather than an otherworldly visit included:

Martindale claimed the soldiers carried round shields and wore green tunics. Historians reading his account said that while round shields had been used in Rome, the traditional large rectangular shields were the only kind used in England. The experts also noted that tunics made of a green plaid fabric (and I’m thinking, really? They had PLAID back then?!) were an unlikely sartorial choice.

Guess what? Fast forward 50 years or so and excavations at Hadrian’s Wall, located not too far north of York, yielded long-buried fragments of the round shields not previously known to be used by the Romans settled in the U.K.

Score one for Harry.

And when an ancient Roman burial ground was uncovered recently near York’s train station, some fabric remnants were tested and turned out to be – you guessed it – green plaid.

Score two.

In addition, workers digging between the Treasurer’s House and another site uncovered a substantial road leading toward the ruins of Roman army headquarters nearby. The Roman highway passed just a couple of feet below the basement in Treasurer’s House, finally explaining why the ghostly soldiers were only visible from the knees up.

Ding ding ding!

I also learned from Patricia that while Harry Martindale’s experience may have resulted in the most detailed documentation of the marching warriors, this was not the first, nor the last time that people caught sight of Roman apparitions in York’s spookiest basement. In fact, over the years staff and guests have seen Romans as well as a number of other ghostly visitors in every room of Treasurer’s House.

Cold drafts where no window is open. Doors inexplicably locked from the inside – when no one was home. An overpowering scent of lavender with no flowers or perfume in sight. These are the messages from beyond to those who work at the Treasurer’s House.

Yup. I’m a believer.

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Getting spooked in York

Halloween may be over, but I’m looking forward to taking the high-speed train this Sunday from London to England’s most haunted city: York.

A ghost walk in York

A ghost walk in York

At this time of year the nighttime ghost tours are harder to find. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go on one while I’m there. But on Monday I look forward to meeting Patricia Ong from York Walking Tours. We’ll be covering some of the highlights of York, like the Museum Gardens and The Shambles (former medieval butchers’ street) and the famous Minster cathedral, where she is certified to lead tours.

On Patricia’s website there is reference to a walking tour focusing on the Roman history of York. That reminds me of a ghost sighting not that many years ago that I’ll have to ask her about:

In an old issue of National  Geographic Traveler, I ran across an article about York and was nicely spooked by the story of a man who saw a platoon of Roman soldiers marching past him . . .  in 1953.

According to this recent legend, with the blast of a trumpet, Harry Martindale turned from his task of installing a new boiler in the Treasurers’ House basement to witness a column of dirty, tired Roman legionnaires and their horses tramping through the basement, disappearing through the stone wall ahead.

Before bolting upstairs, Martindale noticed the even stranger detail that the group was only visible from about the knees up. It wasn’t until later that the remains of a Roman road was discovered beneath the foundations of the house. The Roman soldiers couldn’t be seen from the knees down, because they were walking on that ancient Roman road . . . .

Bwaaaaaaahaaaahaaahaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaa!

Okay! Time to finish packing and head to the airport. Stay tuned for stories from York, Liverpool, the Lake District and the Isle of Man when I return.

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Your travelin’ shoes

I think the most important thing you wear, and pack, will be your shoes on any trip you take. When I go overseas, I do my best to travel light – but I firmly believe, and recommend, that you always wear a pair, and pack a spare.

You might think, hey – I’m wearing a comfortable pair of shoes. Why bring another pair? When you’re walking a lot, your feet will serve you better if you switch from one pair to another, alternating days. I don’t know why, medically speaking, but I do know it works for me.

Second, if you have an especially wet or snowy day and you’re out and about, your shoes may not be dry and ready to go later in the evening to go to dinner, or even the next day. Don’t wear damp, yucky shoes! Give them time to dry out and wear the alternate pair.

I like to wear slip-on shoes on travel days, when possible. It’s annoying to have to find a place to sit and tie shoes back on after you go through security, especially if you’re already juggling the coat you removed, and the belt, and your purse, carry-on, your book, cell phone, change from your pocket . . . .

Here is my spare pair for England next month:

Mick approves of my shoes.

Mick approves of my shoes.

What will the Brits think of this middle-aged American woman wearing red sneakers? Well, I decided I’d rather be thought somewhat eccentric than wear white tennis shoes and just be dowdy. (Okay, just my opinion, ladies!)

Besides . . . my orthotics fit perfectly in these shoes. Insert smiley face here.

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Oh, those sexy Beatles

I’m going to Liverpool next month. I can hardly wait to “Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey” and take a Beatles tour to catch a glimpse of the landmarks graced by the Fab Four.

If you wondered how old I am, you can easily figure it out now when I tell you that I was 12 years old when the Beatles first hit the U.S. scene in 1963. In the little town where I grew up near Lake Erie, about 50 miles east of Cleveland, Ohio, the strongest signal we received was from CKLW Radio in Detroit. The station apparently had a mega tower just across the border in Canada that allowed them to broadcast further than was allowed with AM stations in the U.S.

I’d listen to my favorite DJ every night, often sitting with my little transistor radio at the kitchen table to hear the music and latest news about the lads from Liverpool. I remember one night I lit a candle and sang happy birthday to George, along with every other Beatlemaniac following the DJ’s instructions.

I loved them all, but was especially enamored with Paul. I luved him.

I was thinking this morning how innocent I was. “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” was about as thrilling a prospect as I could expect. And the later song, “I Want to be Your Man,” fueled my imagination no further than believing Paul would want to hold my hand on a daily basis, perhaps even stealing a chaste kiss now and then.

Photo in Liverpool, circa 1962 - thanks to Paul McCartney WordPress blog

Photo in Liverpool, circa 1962 – thanks to Paul McCartney WordPress blog

When the Beatles appeared at Cleveland Public Hall I was fortunate to go with my friends Cynthia and Janice. Cynthia’s dad drove us and waited somewhere in the vicinity to take us home after the concert. We all had been warned that despite the late night spent standing on our chairs screaming at little mop-topped guys on a stage far away, there would be no excuses not to go to school the next day.

As if we had to be forced to go to school . . . .

Who would want to miss the experience of being celebrities ourselves, having worshiped at the feet of the beloved Liverpudlians?

So now I’m going to Liverpool, 50 years later. As I take in the sights I only dreamed of ever seeing as a girl, I picture myself grinning madly each step of the way. Paul! I’m finally here! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Anything else you think I should see while I’m there?

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Souvenirs for everybody! Yay!

Do you like to bring home little gifts for family, friends, your hairdresser, your friendly mail carrier, etc., when you’ve been overseas? I love giving presents. Love it!

If you love to give gifts, too . . . and if you’re watching your travel budget (who isn’t?) . . . here’s my favorite tip:  go shopping for souvenirs in a local grocery store. Not only is it fun to see how the locals shop, but more often than not, you can find the same exotic chocolate bars you saw in a touristy gift shop for half the price in the supermarket.

You’ll find candy, cookies, jams, and all kinds of foods you’d only come across – maybe – in the expensive imported section of a store back home.

Not into sweets? I bought a jar of hot, fancy mustard in a grocery store in Amsterdam for

Dad would have loved this one, I think!

Dad would have loved this one

my father on one trip. He loved it! Generally speaking, I’d stay away from things in jars and bottles for two reasons: the extra weight and the chance of breaking in my suitcase. But in the case of the mustard, I just knew my dad would get a kick out of it – so, what the heck?

But if you don’t mind a little extra weight, you’ll find interesting condiments, spices, oils, even canned foods. If you have ever had canned tuna in Italy, I don’t know why it’s so much better than ours – but it is. (Anyone heading over soon who was thinking of getting me a present?)

Or you could check out the teas, coffee beans, even things like dried soup mixes. I was really tempted to buy some yummy-looking packaged soup kits in a market in Romania, but didn’t. In retrospect, I wish I’d picked a couple up for a soup-making buddy who might have enjoyed the challenge of using the packets, despite being unable to read the directions!

Another place to look for gifts is in a pharmacy-like store. Most actual “drug stores” in Europe really are strictly for medicines and healthcare items. But if you go to a store like Boots in the U.K., you can look for unique cosmetic and personal items that you don’t see at home.

Pick up lip balms, soaps . . . I even found cute miniature polka dot emery boards in a Boots in London. If handing someone a lip balm seems a bit cheap, well, throw a few of your finds in a tiny gift bag when you get home and you’ve created a goodie bag that will make someone smile.

Speaking of goodie bags, my favorite place to load up on gift bags, ribbon, tissue, etc., is the Dollar Tree. Keep a supply of different size bags on hand and you’re always ready to go.

Baci means "kisses" in Italian

Baci means “kisses” in Italian

I believe that even if a gift wasn’t expensive, that’s no reason not to make it look like it’s, well, a GIFT. Tie a ribbon around a couple of Italian chocolate bars or a bag of Dutch licorice and you’ve taken an inexpensive little souvenir and made it look special.

Shop wisely, present attractively, and remember that it truly is the thought that counts. People are delighted to be remembered, and giving gifts should be a joy – not a financial burden.

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One way to entertain yourself on a long flight

You never know when an otherwise fairly useless piece of social media will serve as inspiration. In this case, it was a random post by the brilliant Connie Schultz, Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist, humorist and wife of Senator Sherrod Brown of Ohio. 

Today Connie introduced her followers to a blog called SAD AND USELESS  which seems destined to become one of my new favorite places to visit when I need a laugh. In fact, a creative little video based on the Miley Cyrus twerking episode got me to laughing so hard, I had to post it on FaceBook myself.

Anyway, the  SAD AND USELESS post that is relevant to travel is called “Airplane Lavatory Self-Portraits,” created by Nina Katchadourian.

According to the blog, Nina “whiles away long plane journeys by locking herself in the lavatory and pretending to be a 15th century Dutch painting.” She began her artistic journey during what must have been a particularly butt-numbing flight in March 2010 and continues to express herself a la Rembrandt and Vermeer when the muse calls.

It was impossible to actually choose a favorite among these masterpieces, but here are two I’m sure you’ll enjoy as much as I did:Dutch impressionist

To see the collection, go directly to the Airplane Lavatory Self-Portraits post.

On another travel-related note, our hero Rick Steves also posted on FaceBook today, announcing that he will receive the first-ever “Outstanding Friend of Europe” award from the European Union’s Ambassador to the United States. The presentation will take place this evening in Seattle and there’s a live podcast, if you’d like to see Rick Steves accept his much-deserved honor.

Rick will talk about the history behind his successful travel business, from his student back-packing days to the present, and discuss how “thoughtful travel can broaden every person’s perspectives, challenge outdated assumptions and create a force for peace in the world.”

Amen to that! Wish I could attend the ceremony. And since the flight from Cleveland to Seattle is so long, I could even devote a little time to making creative self-portraits in the bathroom on the way.

P.S. SAD AND USELESS also posted about a new trend of putting eyebrows on your dogs. Mick already has little tan eyebrows, but I think Richie might be a prime candidate for a makeover.

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So, you’re the first to hear

I have been noodling around with the idea of starting a niche travel company for years. I bought an online tutorial on how to set one up and occasionally daydreamed about how I’d actually do such a thing.

I didn’t get far until I mentioned it to my dear friend, Ginny Carmichael Schneider, last spring. Ginny liked the idea as much as I do, and we quickly came up with several ideas for themed tours to Europe.

I’m happy to announce that our first tour will take place in England next fall! I’ll be going over for a site visit to work out the logistics on November 1. We have a company name that fits us to a tee:

PrintThat’s French for “two peas,” or — two peas in a pod. Which we are. It’s like that sappy line from the movie Jerry Maguire, “You complete me.” I know, I know. But it’s true in the sense that we bring complementary skill sets to the enterprise. (Well, true in lots of other ways, too, many that make us laugh like lunatics). But for Deux Pois, our first venture will show you what I mean.

Ginny is an artist who works with wool and has become very interested in felting, which is

A felted top from Ginny's Pinterest board

A felted top from Ginny’s Pinterest board

kind of a hot craft topic these days. Here’s a link to her Pinterest board to give you an idea of the fascinating and gorgeous art and apparel that are being made using this craft.

We agreed that Ginny would search for and select a European felt artist who has been published and also teaches. She found a craftsman in Yorkshire, England who has agreed to conduct an exclusive two-day workshop for our group.

So who will “our group” be? Our tag line of “Live large. Travel small.” really speaks to our objective. I would describe our traveler for this tour to be someone who is passionate about felting and wool crafts and would love the chance to learn from an expert. This also is someone who has probably done a fair amount of travel (and loves it), has most likely visited London and other popular attractions in Europe, and is intrigued by the idea of going to places that are just a bit off the beaten path.

Traveling small refers to our group size, which will be no more than 10 people. We’ll give our participants the kind of personal attention and concierge services you don’t usually find in a large tour group.

I’ll be writing more about our philosophy and why we are creating trips and conducting them in a way we’d like to experience travel ourselves on our Deux Pois blog.

So that’s it in a very tiny nutshell. In November another dear friend, Bernadette Knight, is going to take the ferry over from her home on the Isle of Man and join me on my research through Yorkshire, the Lake District and Liverpool. The Isle of Man is going to be an add-on to our tour, since Bernadette has contacts in the wool craft community on the island. How’s that for a different destination?

And since I haven’t seen Bernadette since visiting Ireland some years ago, I’m thrilled we can spend some time together.

You’ll be hearing more, and I’ll be creating a Deux Pois blog, of course, that  I’ll include here when it’s ready for viewing. This site will not be about Deux Pois, by the way, though I will no doubt mention it now and again.

I just wanted you to be among the first to know about this exciting new adventure in my life. Thanks for joining me here!

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